Page 115 of Iris' Lying Eyes

My fingers twitch, but it’s more of a trained response than anything. Still, I don’t move, and he searches my gaze, his eyes wide before barking, “Grab the fucking rope, or you’ll stay another night.”

After a moment, in which I run the soil through my fingers, he pulls the rope up and stalks off.

Later, I lay against the cool dirt and stare at the sky, but the twinkling stars are a blur. And eventually, I close my eyes and sleep.

∞∞∞

In the morning, John appears. He tosses the rope into the hole, and I roll over to stare at it.

There’s a distant sort of acknowledgment in my head that I’m supposed to comply, so when he stands over the hole with a scowl, I sit up.

“Get your ass up here before I beat it.”

My limbs are completely useless, but I grab the rope anyway. When I try to pull my body up, I immediately drop. The effort is too great, and I lean against the wall to recover.

Above me, John sighs. “You think the retard was bad? She’s next, Iris.”

His words barely penetrate the haze, and I think I doze before his face looms above me.

∞∞∞

“Sit up,” John says, and I roll my head to look at him through fuzzy eyes.

There are three of him, which under normal circumstances wouldn’t be good, but flying high, I don’t fucking care. With a giggle, I flip forward. When he grabs my hair, I stretch my mouth wide.

With a grunt, he pushes me to my knees on the floor. Absently I wonder if they’ll be bruised tomorrow before I sag.

“Fucking nuisance,” he mutters, and I giggle again.

“Nushance,” I slur, waving my hands in front of my face. They bend and weave to music that dances in my head until he slaps me, and it pops like a balloon. Or maybe that’s my eardrum.

Keeling over, I exhale when my head hits the floor with a dull thud. I think that hurt.

“How much did you take?” he barks, but I can’t respond because a whoosh fills my ears, and I start to tremble.

My vision blurs. I hear the vague sound of his voice behind me, but my eyes roll back in my head, and I choke.

Before everything goes dark, I reach into the void, but there’s nothing there, not even the round, rosy faces that haunt me in my dreams.

∞∞∞

“Get up.”

Squinting against the light, I meet John’s impatient gaze. The dissonance between the memory and his current angry countenance messes with my head.

It wasn’t so long ago that I was his rag doll, and he carried me around like a toy. But his need to keep me tethered created a monster who burned for the drugs that danced in her system.

I’d kill for them now, and I think I mean that literally. Oblivion. I crave it even as I acknowledge I don’t deserve it.

John pulls me from my thoughts when he grabs my chin. I nod dumbly when he says, “I’m going to push you up. Grab the fucking rope and pull the rest of the way.”

He pushes me toward the wall, and I stumble before reaching for the rope. His curses fall on deaf ears as he wraps the twine around my wrists and pulls from the other end.

The rope shivers, and I start to move, but halfway up, it stops. His makeshift pulley has failed.

“Fuck,” he grunts, shoving his shoulder under my ass and heaving. Despite my small frame, I feel him tremble under my weight.

It's a dichotomy because the man is strong enough when he’s beating me, but all in all, he’s ridiculously frail.

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