Page 8 of Fallen Petal

Chapter 3

Petal

He is not a bad man.

I keep telling myself that when his lips find mine, claiming me with another kiss that I never consented to.

Or maybe I did? I didn’t shy away, I didn’t try to fend him off or phrase any vocal protest when he pulled me closer, wrapping his arm around my upper body and lifting me up on my feet while our lips are closely connected in another intimate moment. I don’t squirm or sway away when he uses his other arm to gather my legs, carrying me as if I was weightless while my arms drape around his neck on instinct.

He is not a bad man.

He is not the devil I thought him to be. He didn’t kidnap me, and he didn’t do anything against my will. He never lied, he never betrayed, and he will most likely never hurt me in a way that could leave me destroyed beyond repair.

He is not a bad man.

But I may be the most rotten person on the planet.

I’m the person I should be afraid of. Not him.

I’m the one with the depraved mind, the sick and twisted psycho who causes havoc on other people’s lives, his included. I’m the one responsible for all of this.

I asked for this.

The girl in the video told me. She looked me in the eyes, speaking in a clear voice and concise sentences, not wasting a single breath.

The girl in the video was me. She was wearing the exact same gown I woke up in, her face bright and her hair freshly brushed. It was me, not long before I was put to sleep.

It was me before my mind was erased. The person staring back at me on that small display, telling me that everything was okay, that I could trust him and that I wasn’t going through anything that I wasn’t capable of handling—that person had the answers to all the questions I’ve been asking ever since I woke up.

But during the few seconds I was allowed to listen to her, she only shared a handful of them, shedding light on the most important issue only.

“You’re safe,” she said. “You are exactly where you want to be. You are experiencing exactly what you asked for. You signed a deal with him, because you needed him. He is helping you.”

He is helping you.

But with what? What is he helping me with? And why didn’t she tell me anything else? My real name? My story? Her words may have helped to get rid of the very profound fear for my life. I have not been robbed and locked away like a random kidnapping victim. Nothing about this is random.

“You can trust him,” she said.

She, the person who is me.

At first, I didn’t want to believe any of it. I looked for signs that would weaken her credibility, drugs, a gun to her head, some kind of other force that may have been used to mess with her. But the girl in the video was sane and in full possession of her mental faculties. She was stern and empathetic, eager to bring across an important message to her future self.

Because she knew what was coming. She had a pretty good idea about the situation she would find herself in. That’s why she recorded that message.

She was trying to calm her future self, without ruining the effect of whatever it was she decided to put herself through.

By only giving me half the answers I seek, she still leaves me surrounded by a heavy cloud of mystery. And that’s exactly what she wanted for me.

To feel safe, while still being ignorant to what exactly brought me here.

She wanted me to take joy in this twisted ordeal.

And since she knows more about myself than I do right now, I decide to take her video message as a word of advice.

I will try to make the most of this strange situation.

But I won’t stop asking. I won’t stop wondering. I won’t stop trying to gather all the pieces of this scattered puzzle that is my life now.

And I won’t be silenced by pain or threats—only by kisses. Kisses like the one we’re sharing now. It tastes sweeter than any before, sugared by my decision to listen to my past self and to trust him.

He is not a bad man.

But he is a strange man, deranged and unique. No ordinary man would do such things. No ordinary man would sign a deal with a girl like me. No ordinary man would even be capable of pulling off such a contract.

I float in this man’s embrace, entranced by the way our tongues intertwine and his strong hands dig into my skin as he carries me across the room.

I thought he’d carry me back to the bed and spread me on top of the soft mattress like he did before, playing my body like a musical instrument to evoke sounds from me that may sound like music to him.

But he’s taking me somewhere else. Somewhere we’ve never been before.

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