Seduction--Part Eleven

The frightful, twisted nightmares of his tortured youth rose up to meet him like ghastly demonic lovers. Writhing and swirling all about him, they hungrily encircled and impressed his consciousness with their dreadful, nauseating images. His soul fled thankfully from Téa and sank into the safety of their hateful, smothering embrace. Eagerly--licking his wounds like an injured animal--he returned to the yawning pit of hell where he had been conceived in sin so long ago...

“Love,” he grunted derisively, snatching a random image from the vast, hideous assortment suddenly arrayed before him. “You want me to tell you what I know about love...?” His eyes locked menacingly with hers as his grip tightened around her head...

“Okay...picture a little boy, Delgado... See that little boy loves his mother... He loves her so much he can't stand it. She's beautiful, she's smart, she makes him feel great, makes everyday fun. Love is good, right...? Right...” he said sarcastically, shifting his eyes away from hers. She could see the muscles in his jaw working, the slight tremor around his mouth...

“Then one day the little boy comes home...and she's gone,” he continued, his voice fading away to a soft whisper. “She's just...gone... And then... there's this note, see... She... She couldn't even stick around long enough to say good-bye...so she leaves him this...this damn note.” His fingers twitched convulsively around Téa's face, as he forced the words out bitterly. “And, and the little boy, he...he just doesn't get it... He can't believe it... Why...? Why did she leave? So, so he goes to the man, right? He asks questions...” He paused, suddenly reluctant to continue. Téa saw his eyes change--a horrible, vacant deadness welling up in their depths...

“But the man...the man doesn't like questions.” Todd continued, his voice falling into a chilling, lifeless monotone. “No, he tells the boy to shut up, to leave him alone. But he's just a little boy...and his mother's gone... He doesn't understand...so he keeps asking and then he starts crying...

Then, when the boy's not looking, when he's got his head down, this big hand comes out of nowhere...bang!” Téa flinched as all the muscles in his body suddenly went rigid against her. “And the boy goes flying across the room, all the way across the room and into the fucking wall...

But it doesn't stop there, no... No, the man comes after him, just to make sure that the boy gets the point... He comes after him, taking off his belt. He takes off that belt and starts to beat the boy.” Todd's breathing became agitated, rapid and shallow. Téa felt his heart pounding against her again...

“He doesn't care where he hits him, doesn't care when he sees the blood, he just hits him again and again--screaming at the boy to shut up, to stop crying, to act like a man... And, and the boy tries, he tries to shut up, he really tries... But he can't... he can't--so the hitting just goes on and on and on and on...”

Todd's eyes closed slowly, the muscles in his forehead tensing, as the ugly scene replayed vividly in his mind. “Then somehow, somehow the boy finds a way...a way to turn his mind off, so he can't feel it... He just goes away in his head...and it works...it works... He makes himself quit crying. His heart feels like it's gonna explode, he can't breathe...but he quits crying... Then he waits...he waits...and the hitting starts to slow down a little...and a little more...‘til finally...it stops...”

Todd opened his eyes and shifted his gaze to Téa's face once more, a childlike innocence suffusing and softening his features in the candlelight. Slowly, secretively, he touched his fingers to his lips, signaling the need for quiet. “The boy can't make any noise... No...no noise...” His voice dropped to a furtive whisper. “He has to be careful... ‘Cause you see, if he makes a noise, he knows the beating will start again... He knows the man is just waiting for that... So, so he stays there, up against the wall, hugging his knees, trying not to make a sound. He squeezes his eyes shut, bites his lip ‘til it bleeds just so he won't make any noise...”

Todd's hand dropped slowly to the pillow beside Téa's head. She felt the tips of his fingers trembling against her temple. “The man yells at the boy... He tells the boy never, never to talk about his mother again...never...” A look of deep anguish momentarily crossed his face, cruelly twisting his handsome features. “He orders the boy to get upstairs. Then he grabs his briefcase, says he's going back to the office to work late...”

Relief spread gently over Todd's face, relaxing and smoothing the taut, strained muscles. “Then the boy hears the door slam... He starts breathing again... He starts to relax ‘cause he knows the man's gone away... He knows it's okay to move now, but when he tries to get up, he can't stand--his legs are like, like rubber...and there's blood...” He wet his lips nervously and swallowed, looking at Téa imploringly. “So, so what can he do...he starts to crawl, right? He crawls to the staircase, crawls up all those stairs to his room. He doesn't know what the hell is going on, but he knows he's got to hide...in case the man comes back. He's got to find someplace to hide...

He makes it to his room, but he still doesn't feel safe. He grabs the blanket and pulls it, pulls it all the way off the bed. He picks up his favorite stuffed animal, a little lion that his mother gave him.” Todd searched Téa's eyes, a desperate, frightened expression haunting his face. “He looks around--he's scared...so scared--but he doesn't know where to go. So he drags the blanket and his lion to the closet and crawls inside. He crawls in--way, way back--and curls up with his lion in the corner. He pulls the blanket over him and tries not to cry... He tries to think...tries to figure out what happened...

Of course, he figures it out real fast... It's obvious...” he continued, bitterness lacing his voice again. “The boy knows it was him... It had to be him... He must have done something really bad. He must have done something so awful that it made his mother want to go away...and made the man hate him. He couldn't remember what it was, but he must have done something. So the man was right to punish him, the man was always right... The boy deserved to be beaten...he deserved worse than that, he deserved to die for making his mother go away...”

Sympathetic tears escaped Téa's eyes as she tried to touch his face, tried to give comfort. “No, no quérido... No child deserves that kind of punishment. You didn't do anything, you know that it wasn't your fault...”

“No, the boy deserved it--he, he brought it on himself,” Todd stammered, his voice cracking with emotion. “He wasn't good enough, smart enough, he didn't make her happy.” He pushed Téa's hand away, blocking her attempt to caress him. “If he'd been good enough, she would have loved him more...she would have loved him enough to stay...”

Todd's eyes, deeply shadowed with pain, fixed on a point in space to the right of Téa's head. “The boy just lies there in the closet, figuring it all out,” he continued, his consciousness firmly locked inside the devastating memory. “He squeezes that little lion and thinks about how his mother doesn't want him anymore. He thinks about never seeing her again...never hearing her voice...never having the warm softness, the sweet smell of her all around him again...

He thinks about how stupid, how disgusting he must be...to make his mother leave, to make her want to go away like that... And the boy starts to hurt deep inside...way down deep, like someone's ripping out his guts... God, he hurts... He hurts so bad he can't believe it... It hurts...” he whispered shakily, feeling the agony tear through him again... “It hurts...”

Tears formed in Todd's eyes, his face twisted up, clearly registering the shattering pain and sorrow. “The boy can't stand it...can't stand it...he's got to change it... He's got to make it go away... So, so he gets mad, he lets the hate come... He lets himself feel it burning inside... It makes him feel stronger, safer... Hating feels better than hurting... So he lets himself start to hate her, to hate the man...to hate everyone... But most of all he starts to hate himself... He hates himself so much...so damn much...that he wants to die...he just wants to die...”

Todd stopped, trembling, momentarily unable to continue--a single tear rolling slowly down his cheek. “Then the boy starts crying again--but it's too loud...too loud,” he continued, haltingly. “No, no...he can't make any noise... He's scared again, afraid the man might come back, might hear him--so he stuffs the blanket in his mouth... Then, he cries and cries and cries into that blanket until there's nothing left inside of him...nothing...nothing but emptiness...

For hours and hours after that...he just hides there...alone...hurting...hating...clutching that stupid lion, rolled up in a wretched, pathetic little ball in the darkness...”

He continued to stare past her, completely lost in the memory for several seconds. Then he shifted his eyes slightly to look at her--a faint, wistful smile stealing slowly across his beautiful face. “That's what love means to me, Delgado...” he murmured softly. “Love is pain...suffering... It's a belt cutting welts in my skin...the smell and taste of blood... It's just a little boy crying, alone in the dark...” The cold deadness returned, invading his eyes once more. “So don't expect me to get all misty eyed and sentimental when you tell me you...love me... Don't expect me to feel a God damn thing...”

*  *  *  *

Cold, nauseating fear gripped Todd's inner consciousness as he looked past Marty and Nora, focusing on Téa's tear streaked face. Recognizing what was obviously going on, he was stricken with revulsion and guilt. Instantly he realized that he was hurting her. He forced his hands to ease the murderous grip that he had on her skull. She was speaking about loving him, about giving herself freely to him. He tried to respond to her, but he could find no way to communicate other than his feeble attempt to make her more comfortable...

Now that his head had cleared of the bewildering fog that had surrounded him since he began to make love to Téa, he was able to grasp the true nature of his predicament. He was now fully aware that he had been pushed aside again, that he was no longer in complete control of his actions. He felt Téa's soft body under him, felt her tears on his skin. He was acutely aware of the warm, inviting wetness between her legs and the urgent, aching contact that he had with her there. He could see everything clearly, could hear all that was being said, he just couldn't seem to make anything work right, managing--with extreme effort--only the smallest amount of motor control...

There was a resistance inside his head, a barrier separating him from the events occurring in the Cabana--a shimmering construct of alien thought and perception. As he touched it gingerly with his own thoughts, he felt his consciousness merge with something powerful and frightening, yet oddly familiar. Instantly a series of dark, distorted images splashed themselves luridly across his inner landscape--visions too complicated and terrifying for him to process all at once...

After the briefest moment of confusion, he recognized the telltale identifying signatures within the barrier. The intensity, the black rage--laced liberally with an all consuming lust for revenge was the first clue. The drive towards violence--the deep, malevolent compulsion towards brutal, aberrant sex--confirmed his initial assessment. He knew exactly where he was...

This was the nightmare, the incubus--the cruel, cold-blooded part of himself that had taken over--that had defended and haunted him ever since that horrible night so long ago. This was the tormentor, the keeper of all the secrets--the hellish repository where every painful memory and suffocating fear was jealously stored and nurtured. Here, locked away, was all the naked hate and violence, all the wickedness born of abuse and neglect that seethed and festered in his soul...

This can't be happening...he thought wildly, fear gripping him. I can't be here... I can't...! Before he could even complete the thought, his mind began to flash back, hideous suppressed visions rising up to scroll unbidden past his mind's eye. He struggled desperately to block the sights and sounds, the rising horror, as the torture that was his life began to unfold before him. Seconds ground past like hours as he grappled for control, for a way to deal with the sudden onslaught. Slowly he managed to restore some order, to pull out of his downward spiral, to block his own mind--shutting out the painful parade of scenes...

He tried to control his fear enough to sort out what he was experiencing. This had never been possible before--that he could pass inside, that he could become one with this horrible thing that had always played such havoc with his life. He had always thought of it as a demon inside him--unassailable, all powerful--something totally separate, evil--that simply took over and ruined everything. He was amazed, as he carefully opened himself to it once more, that he could find no monster at all, that what he saw was merely the massive obscenity of his own miserable existence--the mangled, ugly chaos of his desperate, lonely life...

Always before, contact with this entity had produced disorientation, a brutal usurpation of his identity--followed by a dreamlike, floating impotency. He had always been pushed away to some remote place outside of it where he felt no emotion or pain, where he could only wait and watch helplessly as it did its awful damage and then disappeared. Only occasionally had he been able to resist it, to push it aside, to block its overwhelming power...

But the thing seemed different now, almost unrecognizable. It was passive, it wasn't pushing him away. There was no stuporous haze clouding his thinking now, no drug-like sensations anesthetizing him. He wasn't fighting it from the outside, he was actually a part of it, fully aware of everything--and able to sustain some control within the experience. He was shocked that it was possible for him to blend his own feelings and thoughts into it as he was doing now--without being totally consumed or destroyed...

The intensity of the contact was awesome, filling him with the same omnipotent, hedonistic impulses and reactions that he had experienced and enjoyed earlier in the evening. His fear subsiding, he looked down, focusing on Téa through his newly blended vision. Suddenly, he was seized with incredibly strong, conflicting emotions--wanting to love her, wanting to destroy her simultaneously. He shuddered with an intense pleasure that he couldn't suppress as he felt himself slide slightly inside of her...

For a moment he struggled with the deep desire to continue, to give in to the powerful feelings and slide in fully. But the adamant desire to hurt her was also pulsing vividly around him, beating against his consciousness. He felt uneasy, suddenly afraid of what might happen if he gave in to his longings and didn't try to stop this. He immediately countered the fierce compulsion to satisfy his lust with thoughts of loving respect and gentleness, with a firm refusal to force her. Amazingly, his body responded to his will and pulled back...

He was shocked that his attempt to protect her had worked, that he had been able to exert that much influence over the situation. Wanting more power, more influence, he tried to blend further into the entity, feeling for something to hang on to, for something to anchor his position. But, he found nothing solid he could latch on to and was forced to retreat to the outer edge again to regroup...

Pulling back slightly, but still partially blended with the construct, he began to study it closely. As he felt his way around inside, he immediately sensed that all the answers, all the keys to his problems, were here--and that all he needed to do was let go of something--alter his understanding, his acceptance of something just a little--and the resistance to his entry would drop...

In the past, he had never wanted real contact with this frightening, powerful part of himself. He had avoided it at all costs, preferring to play psychological cat and mouse games with its ruthless power. But now, he realized that his only hope of getting control again was to get over his fear and deal directly with it. He had no clue what the “something” was that he needed to let go of, but he intended to figure it out as quickly as possible...

How do I play this... What do I have to do...? he wondered, searching the contents of his mind for any useful information that he could use. In the midst of this intense concentrated search, his mind suddenly tilted crazily, staggering under a disorienting wave of vertigo. Frigid little stabs of icy pain began to pulse along the edges of his mind. He was being sucked down again into a cesspool of noisome feelings and thoughts, things he never allowed himself to think about. He struggled to keep his consciousness stabilized and aware, fighting against the devastating compulsion to let go and simply black out...

Very much against his will, he began to relive the night of his mother's departure from his life--the vivid, terrifying images coming from out of nowhere all around him. He heard his own voice intoning the whole disgusting, embarrassing story--while he could only stand by--helpless to stop it. Sick with humiliation, he watched as tears of pity rolled down Téa's face in response to what she was hearing...

Mercifully, he didn't have to suffer long. The painful narrative quickly came to its desolate conclusion and the nightmare memory slowly faded away into the dark recesses surrounding him. He breathed a deep sigh of relief and tried to regroup. That was just a taste of what this is going to be like...he thought to himself grimly. Gathering up his determination, he turned his attention back to solving the puzzle, to discovering the secret that would enable him to once again enjoy complete dominion over his own body...

The thought of that made him ache suddenly for Téa, to be able to communicate with her again. The only thing he wanted right now was to regain control of himself, to be able to release her from the hell that she was enduring...even though he knew she would never forgive him...that he had lost her forever...

He tried to straighten his thoughts out, hunting desperately for the right key to unlock the barricaded door in his head. For some time he could think of nothing helpful--but then, finally, something occurred to him. Just as he was about to put his newly discovered idea into use and make his first attempt to gain passage through the barrier, he was suddenly interrupted. Again, he was overcome almost to the point of unconsciousness with sickening feelings of horror and dread... But this time it was worse...much, much worse...

“You worthless little piece of shit...! Turn around and look at me when I'm talking to you...!”

Still locked up tight within the confines of his own mind, trapped with no possible means of escape, Todd's awareness whirled to face the leering visage of Peter Manning...

To be continued...

Part Twelve

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Back to Remember Roger Howarth