Read Online The Decimation of Mae (The Blue Butterfly) by D H Sidebottom - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: D H Sidebottom
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the darkness with only hatred and despair to keep me
company in the previous two days of solitary, punishment for my outburst, I had
recognised some astonishing facts about myself.
What did I have worth fighting for? The end was close;
too close now. There was no one who would be there for me, no one who would
hold my hand as the angels heralded my arrival. No one who would mourn the end
of my existence, not a single person, apart from maybe Spud would watch me join
the many others in the field of graves.
Maybe Daniel would grant a swifter passing, stop the
debilitation of my illness and offer the end to my anguish. I was ready for
death, maybe even hungry for it. Peace and extinction were welcoming; the
finality of them comforting and euphoric.
“Why spoil such perfection, lamb? The marks you decorate
yourself with are nothing but masks hiding the real you that begs to be seen.”
I didn’t answer, I wasn’t expected to. It was the first
day of my ‘education’ he’d told me as I’d scrambled to my knees before him in
the bedroom. He’d led me to the ‘correction centre’ as I so aptly named it; the
room I had begun this adventure in. The room with the cross, the room with the
chains, the room with the many instruments lined up orderly along a wall. The
dark, damp chamber that fed the sinister in my Master and nourished his need
for control and order.
“Do you relish in the pain of your torture, Mae?” he
continued, giving me permission to answer him with the use of my name.
“Yes, Master.”
I had learnt quickly, his furious belts across my cheek
had encouraged it. His venomous words of instruction had engrained his conditions
swiftly into me. He’d made me recite the alphabet time after time, and every
single letter had to be accompanied by ‘Master’ – ‘A, Master. B, Master. C,
Master….’ And so on. Each time I slipped and forgot, his palm connected with my
cheek. Although I was grateful it hadn’t been his fist, it was still something
that had quickly soaked into my mind until it became second nature to answer
him with ‘Master’.
I hated myself for surrendering to his wants, but pain
had caused my instinct to defend myself to kick in. And if calling him Master
halted that pain, then so be it. I was all for easy right then, and although
fight still flowed amidst my blood, my mind had found the easiest route
possible through this nightmare.
“Tell me how it makes you feel when you cut.”
His demand triggered an involuntary tremble through my
blood, firing up my internal need for release and calm. I swallowed hesitantly,
wondering how to word the unique sensation that empowered me each time the
blood spilled from my veins.
“Do not hesitate at my questioning, Mae.” He tugged on my
hair, whipping my head backwards painfully until his face was upside down in my
vision. The hold on my wrists from the chains provided a sharp pull with his
blunt movement. “Truth comes with urgency. Indecision brings on lies.”
“It…” I gulped and blew out a slow breath. “It helps me
heal, Master.”
He was silent, his eyes narrow but clear as he traced
them over my face. His expression held both understanding as well as curiosity.
He nodded in reply as he released his harsh hold on my hair.
I startled when his breath heated my cheek, his mouth
against my ear. “Do you need release, lamb? Are you begging for the comfort of
pain?” He seemed almost pleased with me, happy that I welcomed pain and
suffering. I assumed this made my training easier, my spirit already spoilt and
eager for discipline.
“Yes, Master.” I answered him as quickly as possible as a
trickle of hope spread through me, excitement kindling my need for stimulation.
His hand slid down my back, his palm sweeping softly over
my buttocks. I gasped when he glided further, the whole of his hand now
pressing over my sex. This was the first time he had touched me sexually. I was
surprised at this. The first time, three
company in the previous two days of solitary, punishment for my outburst, I had
recognised some astonishing facts about myself.
What did I have worth fighting for? The end was close;
too close now. There was no one who would be there for me, no one who would
hold my hand as the angels heralded my arrival. No one who would mourn the end
of my existence, not a single person, apart from maybe Spud would watch me join
the many others in the field of graves.
Maybe Daniel would grant a swifter passing, stop the
debilitation of my illness and offer the end to my anguish. I was ready for
death, maybe even hungry for it. Peace and extinction were welcoming; the
finality of them comforting and euphoric.
“Why spoil such perfection, lamb? The marks you decorate
yourself with are nothing but masks hiding the real you that begs to be seen.”
I didn’t answer, I wasn’t expected to. It was the first
day of my ‘education’ he’d told me as I’d scrambled to my knees before him in
the bedroom. He’d led me to the ‘correction centre’ as I so aptly named it; the
room I had begun this adventure in. The room with the cross, the room with the
chains, the room with the many instruments lined up orderly along a wall. The
dark, damp chamber that fed the sinister in my Master and nourished his need
for control and order.
“Do you relish in the pain of your torture, Mae?” he
continued, giving me permission to answer him with the use of my name.
“Yes, Master.”
I had learnt quickly, his furious belts across my cheek
had encouraged it. His venomous words of instruction had engrained his conditions
swiftly into me. He’d made me recite the alphabet time after time, and every
single letter had to be accompanied by ‘Master’ – ‘A, Master. B, Master. C,
Master….’ And so on. Each time I slipped and forgot, his palm connected with my
cheek. Although I was grateful it hadn’t been his fist, it was still something
that had quickly soaked into my mind until it became second nature to answer
him with ‘Master’.
I hated myself for surrendering to his wants, but pain
had caused my instinct to defend myself to kick in. And if calling him Master
halted that pain, then so be it. I was all for easy right then, and although
fight still flowed amidst my blood, my mind had found the easiest route
possible through this nightmare.
“Tell me how it makes you feel when you cut.”
His demand triggered an involuntary tremble through my
blood, firing up my internal need for release and calm. I swallowed hesitantly,
wondering how to word the unique sensation that empowered me each time the
blood spilled from my veins.
“Do not hesitate at my questioning, Mae.” He tugged on my
hair, whipping my head backwards painfully until his face was upside down in my
vision. The hold on my wrists from the chains provided a sharp pull with his
blunt movement. “Truth comes with urgency. Indecision brings on lies.”
“It…” I gulped and blew out a slow breath. “It helps me
heal, Master.”
He was silent, his eyes narrow but clear as he traced
them over my face. His expression held both understanding as well as curiosity.
He nodded in reply as he released his harsh hold on my hair.
I startled when his breath heated my cheek, his mouth
against my ear. “Do you need release, lamb? Are you begging for the comfort of
pain?” He seemed almost pleased with me, happy that I welcomed pain and
suffering. I assumed this made my training easier, my spirit already spoilt and
eager for discipline.
“Yes, Master.” I answered him as quickly as possible as a
trickle of hope spread through me, excitement kindling my need for stimulation.
His hand slid down my back, his palm sweeping softly over
my buttocks. I gasped when he glided further, the whole of his hand now
pressing over my sex. This was the first time he had touched me sexually. I was
surprised at this. The first time, three
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