Page 35 of Run

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“Honey, I’m home!” I exclaim as chipper as can be as I jog down the steps into my basement playroom, excited to see my girls.

It’s odd coming home in the evenings from the office and not having my best bitch leading the pack following my bike, but I’d rather she be down here doing her new job, watching and accompanying Lily while I’m gone.

“Where’s my best girls?” I ask, rounding the corner from the stairwell, stopping in my tracks when I see the bed and the room empty. “Lily?”

Following the chain from her bedpost to the bathroom, I knock on the door that’s ajar just enough for the bind to fit through. Just because she’s my captive, and I own her, doesn’t mean she can’t have her privacy when needed. I’m not that much of a dick.

“Lily?” I ask again, rapping my knuckle in the wooden door. “Princess?”

The sound of sniffling and the tags on Magnolia’s collar jingling waft through the opening. She’s crying.

“I’m coming in.”

“No. Don’t.” She calls out, her voice strained and shaky.

“Why?”

“Because. I don’t want you to.”

“There has to be a reason, and a damn good one too to keep me from you.” I say, hardening my voice, reminding herwho is really in charge here, even if it is all just an illusion of power.

She’s the one who holds the power, but I can’t let her know that. She has me so enraptured that I would do anything for her, well, almost anything. Letting her go is the only thing I refuse to do. She is mine, forever, whether she likes it or not.

Waiting in the silence that’s only broken by the occasional sniffle has me itching to bust in there, and after a couple minutes my decorum flies right out the proverbial window, and the door slams against the tile wall behind it.

Sitting on the toilet, naked, with her arms wrapped around Magnolia’s neck, she weeps into the dog’s cheek. There’s blood trickling down her ankle from under the metal cuff, pooling on the floor under her feet. Her hair is a mess, and the room smells like old sex and body odor. For most men it would be repulsive, but for me, and my fucked-up-ness, it’s pretty, except her tears.

She’s broken, her spirit has finally cracked and spilled, and she looks up at me with red rimmed eyes and a blotchy face that tells me just how shattered she is.

“H. Let me go.” She weeps, holding tightly to the dog, resting her chin on her head.

I take a step forward, and something I never imagined would happen, happens. Magnolia stiffens, her ears perk up, and when I reach out for Lily, she snaps at me, raising her lips at me, baring her large teeth. Her body language is defensive, and it’s a wake-up call that she’s defending Lily from me. Her, the dog who kills with an excited wag of her nubby tail at my command is standing her ground and telling me, her master, no.

“Whoa.Easy girl.”

Am I afraid of my own dog? Never. I’ve trained her good enough that I doubt she would ever truly rip into me like she does her prey, but she’s an animal and animals follow thousands of years of evolution more than any conditioning from a human. I would hate to have to destroy her for her lack of obedience.

“I’m not going to hurt her.” I say to the dog more than to Lily.

I would hope that they both would understand that, but with the amount of time they are spending together, I may have set it up for issues. I never thought my girl would become attached to another human besides me. It’s almost heartwarming though, almost. I’m not sure if I have enough niceness in me for that to really happen, maybe one day though.

“Lily. Princess, call off the dog. You know I’m not going to hurt you.”

“Aren’t you though?” She cries out, her words shrill and pained. “I’m a prisoner here, in this dank room, chained to a fucking bed like I’m not better than my only companion. A fucking dog.”

Seeing her so upset does things in my chest that are foreign to me, raising feelings that I haven’t felt since my mother was alive. It’s the same way I would feel when my father was beating her, hurting her, making her into just an empty shell as he killed the angel inside of her.

“Let’s go for a ride. Some fresh air will do you some good.” I say before I can stop myself.

“A what?”

“A ride. When I’m not feeling good, I ride the bike. It’s the most freeing thing in the world.”

“Yet I won’t be free. I’ll still be your prisoner.” She wails, grabbing the dog tighter, pulling her between her legs, making her chain jingle and the blood flow freely again.

“Trust me.”

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