It should have been a mountain. A mountain on an island surrounded by ocean. Maybe that’s where Mariah Boucheron should have had her honeymoon. Where her husband, not Kayden, had taken her to her bedroom, had bedded her, over and over again.
Instead, they had elected for a cabin in the woods. It had a lake, anyway, so there was that. But what a crapsack experience despite the environment. Waking up to light shining from outside through closed windows. Not knowing who shined them though. Getting sick, spending the week and weekend vomiting and emptying her bowels over and over again.
Ironic. She was now in an environment that stank of piss and shit and vomit. Blood and whatever other fluids were mixed in. This damned factory was insanity’s sick joke. This was a sadist’s twisted brain. Yet, at the moment, it was just a room with four walls, a floor and a ceiling.
It had a computer but no TV. It had a sink but was no bathroom or kitchen. It wasn’t their bedroom, it had no bed, but the man and the woman within it only needed the sink for what they did.
The only scent was sweat, glistening between their bodies, and the stenches beyond were lost on Mariah. The floor was cold beneath warm skin. She welcomed it. Lying naked on the floor with Kayden, cold but not alone, safe in this save room, they just looked at each other side by side, eyes into eyes.
“We have to leave soon.”
Mariah broke the moment, regretted it in an instant, denying her own lies, that fantasy might be the same damn thing as reality, but that was a pathetic fallacy.
“We’ve got flashlights, a machete, a crowbar. I found a flip knife. Got a keycard.”
She didn’t mention the key. She didn’t know why.
“And lips that won’t quit.”
They both grinned. Maybe that was ironic. Maybe that was the madness.
“All right. I’m in. I’m with you, woman. We’ll get dressed. We’ll open the door. We’ll shine our light in the darkness, cloak in shadows, and get the fuck out of this piss-shit pit.”
“Now you’re speaking my language, man.”
“Thought I was speaking it some moments ago when I made you moan.”
They kissed. Maybe a moment passed. Maybe moments. Time meant nothing in this safe space, though. So, whatever happened next, maybe seconds became minutes, and they did it all over and over again. East of the sunrise, west of the sunset, south of hell. Behind a steel door. In the real north.
Instead, they had elected for a cabin in the woods. It had a lake, anyway, so there was that. But what a crapsack experience despite the environment. Waking up to light shining from outside through closed windows. Not knowing who shined them though. Getting sick, spending the week and weekend vomiting and emptying her bowels over and over again.
Ironic. She was now in an environment that stank of piss and shit and vomit. Blood and whatever other fluids were mixed in. This damned factory was insanity’s sick joke. This was a sadist’s twisted brain. Yet, at the moment, it was just a room with four walls, a floor and a ceiling.
It had a computer but no TV. It had a sink but was no bathroom or kitchen. It wasn’t their bedroom, it had no bed, but the man and the woman within it only needed the sink for what they did.
The only scent was sweat, glistening between their bodies, and the stenches beyond were lost on Mariah. The floor was cold beneath warm skin. She welcomed it. Lying naked on the floor with Kayden, cold but not alone, safe in this save room, they just looked at each other side by side, eyes into eyes.
“We have to leave soon.”
Mariah broke the moment, regretted it in an instant, denying her own lies, that fantasy might be the same damn thing as reality, but that was a pathetic fallacy.
“We’ve got flashlights, a machete, a crowbar. I found a flip knife. Got a keycard.”
She didn’t mention the key. She didn’t know why.
“And lips that won’t quit.”
They both grinned. Maybe that was ironic. Maybe that was the madness.
“All right. I’m in. I’m with you, woman. We’ll get dressed. We’ll open the door. We’ll shine our light in the darkness, cloak in shadows, and get the fuck out of this piss-shit pit.”
“Now you’re speaking my language, man.”
“Thought I was speaking it some moments ago when I made you moan.”
They kissed. Maybe a moment passed. Maybe moments. Time meant nothing in this safe space, though. So, whatever happened next, maybe seconds became minutes, and they did it all over and over again. East of the sunrise, west of the sunset, south of hell. Behind a steel door. In the real north.