Page 38 of Wallflower

Richmond’s excited gaze meets my exhausted one, silver eyes glinting in the fluorescent light. “These are really mucking up my masterpiece,” he says, slipping his fingers into the waistband of my blood saturated shorts. Slowly, he peels down the last layer of protection I have. He plops them into the pool of red, letting them absorb the carnage. Then he stands to his full height. Raising the dripping garment above my head, he wrings out the blood.

I snap my eyes shut, protecting my vision, as the chilled viscous fluid soaks my hair. Red drips off the strands, weaving another pathway of crimson across my skin.

Richmond repeats the process twice more, waiting with bated breath for me to beg him to stop.

I won’t.

He huffs, dropping the shorts with aplop.A tiny seed of satisfaction takes root, sprouting too quick for me to control. A smirk pulls at the corner of my lips.

Cool air moves across my cheek, giving me enough warning to brace for the strike before it connects.

Richmond’s ginormous palm collides with the left side of my face. He’s slapped me so hard it’s sent me spinning. The chain winds up, tightening the binds around my wrist. The tension pinches and rips my skin, sending new trickles of crimson down my arms.

My hair whips around me as the chain unwinds. “Hmm…” Richmond purrs. Patiently, he waits for my tether to stop twirling, then he approaches.

He drags the cold blade across my cheek.

My breast.

My thigh.

What the fuck? He’s supposed to stop.

“One more, Maxxy boy. Just one more,” he murmurs to himself, slicing me across the abdomen as he crouches. Grabbing onto one of my knees, he holds me still.

His finger drags across my frozen skin, an annoyed huff shooting out of him. The hot air warms the apex of my thighs, and I tense in terror. “Don’t flatter yourself, I have no interest in tainting myself.”

I should be insulted, but I’m relieved.

Richmond’s touch vanishes, and I listen to the unnerving sound of plastic crumpling. My eyes refuse to open even though I need to know what’s coming next.

“You’ll have to look sometime, it makes no difference to me when. You can’t avoid it.” His steps carry him back to me, the sound ratcheting my fear impossibly higher. I try to heave in a deep breath. Anything to ease the speed of my racing heart.

Standing behind me, one of Richmond’s hands ensnare my throat. The fingers of his other hand push into the slice in my abdomen, making the wound flow with renewed vigour.

“Shhhh…” he whispers as I cry out in agony. “Don’t move. You probably only want me to do this once.”

He moves around me like liquid, his finger sliding easily this time as he writes filth upon my skin. Taking his time to make every letter known to me, even with my eyes shut. Following the flow of his finger, I know “worthless” is written down my leg. “Slut” is scrawled across my groin. “Trash” is written across my hip.

As he holds my jaw firmly in his grip, “Toy” is written across my throat.

I force my eyes to open, witnessing Richmond seemingly entranced.

Stepping back, he observes me, an air of pride swirling around him.

When my vision refocuses, I crumble ever further. Behind Richmond, lining the length of the wall in front of me, is a floor-to-ceiling mirror. The tarp that was concealing it now lies in a crumpled heap on the ground.

Other words mar my pale skin, and I wonder if I blacked out as I don’t remember half of them, or the smiley face upon my abdomen.

Pulling out his phone, Richmond snaps picture after picture, the shutter sound echoing through the room.

“You may be my best work yet,” he says.

I don’t reply.

Slowly he circles me, recording the state of my body.

“Now, Richmond.” Maximus’s voice booms through the room. Clearly displeased with his order being ignored.