“Don’t scream or it will be your last,” warned a low-pitched voice.
Marlena Evans jerked awake; she could feel the ice coldness of the knife on her neck. Sheer panic jolted her to full alert.
“I’m not going to scream,” she said dry mouthed. In the line of her work she had dealt with unexpected, and had learned to control her fear. Lightening flickered, glancing off the silver of the surgical sculptor. She swallowed hard against her will, “Please don’t hurt me.” Her voice broke but didn’t waver.
“Lady, that’s up to you. Just do as you’re told and nobody will get hurt.”
Do as you are told, she hated that statement, and anyone who knew Dr. Evans knew that was the last thing that should’ve been said, but she also had two small children to think about. “Who are you and what do you want?”
“Who I am is the man holding this sharp instrument. What I want is for you to get up and come with me quietly.”
Thunder pulsed in the distance, echoing the thud of her heart. She forced herself to keep the waves of terror at bay as she tried to figure a way out of this.
“Well, get up I don’t have that much time until the next round starts.”
His statement confused her, “What next round?” For the first time she tried to look around her instead of the glistening blade at her neck. The room was dark, but the lightening was enough to show her this was not her bedroom, her office or any other place she knew. The room was small, with white sheets and the smell of hospitals. She knew those smell; a perfume of doom or refuge which ever might be the case at that moment. Why was she here? Where was she? And why did this man want her to leave with him?
She tried to look at him, beyond the arm, she couldn’t make out anything but the intruder’s dark shape. A sound of monitors drifted down the hall. Think, think, think. Maybe she could alert a nurse or an orderly.
The blade jabbed more at her neck, making a line across her delicate skin, “Get your things, you are coming with me.”
She jerked the covers up to her chin, belatedly noticing she was in nothing but the hospital gown, “I beg your pardon.”
“You’ll be begging for your sorry life if you don’t get a move on.”
The threat in his voice struck like a whip. She didn’t argue. “Turn your back while I get dressed.”
“That’s is pretty lame, even for a lady doctor,” he muttered. “I’m not fool enough to turn my back on you.”
She was momentarily shocked by his admission. “How do you know I am a doctor?”
She could feel the cold, heartless grin that formed on his face; “I have ears Dr. Evans. “
She felt her anger rise, here she was being abducted by a stranger who knew about her , “Any man who bullies people is a fool.”
“Funny thing about bullies,” He said calmly, using his other hand to ease of the cover down her body. “They always manage to get what they want. Now move.”
She could sense the tears that have built behind her eyelids, she could feel her heart that was beating franticly and she was damned if she let on that he had scared her like no other before.
She got up, too fast causing her to get dizzy for a second; her eyes went blurred as she tried to gain back control, at least over her won body. She felt a hand reach out and steady her. It felt warm so unlike the voice that belonged to it. And it felt kind…somehow.
She broke away from his grasp, and reached for her dress that he had tossed on the bed. She touched the white bandage that was surrounding her head like a very ugly hat she imagined. “Do you mind?”
He hesitated for a moment, then closed his eyes, she would have seen the smile if she were still facing him, “Don’t get any funny idea’s lady, I have a killer sense that needs no eyes.”
She didn’t doubt him, his voice was cold calculated and without any trace of fear or emotion. Nothing but cold hard facts that he was relaying to her.
Her dress was midnight black, which would help in the escape she was sure. She turned around to slip it on, her body aching all over. Again she wondered what had happened to her and who this mysterious man was.
He reminded her of someone, someone who turned her blood into ice at the mere thought. A shiver ran down her body. He was dead; she had killed him. And this man was not he. His voice was softer, and yet more alarming. He was also desperate which was something Stefano Dimera never was. He needed her; she could sense that. For what, she was not sure, but he needed her, like no one ever had.
“Are you finished psychoanalyzing me?”
His voice made her jump, and she turned around to face him. The lightening struck to show a few days old unshaven face, and a head that was bandaged. “I was…I was not…” she saw the blade again, and without wanting to drew in a breath. “I was not psychoanalyzing you.”
“Lady, I can read you like I can read a map. Now get a move on before we get caught,” as if he sensed the momentarily relief in her he added, “That would only delay us, and cost a few bodies that would be on your conscious since I don’t have one.”
For clarifying his statement, he slid the blade down her throat; she became motionless “I don’t want to hurt you. That is not my style. But if you don’t do as I say and put me in danger, then I would have no choice. Don’t make it harder that it is, “His voice was an iced whisper in her ear, she could feel his hot breath on her skin, her heart hammered hard, painfully. Will she ever see her children or the man that had given her a reason to feel again? Will she live to tell about this? And yet somehow her thought came back to the stranger that held her life in his hands, who was he and what had made him this way?
In the beginning he cried every day. Every night. During the days he tried to hide his tears. He knows how I do not like a boy that is soft. He is finally mine. Mine to do as I please with. He is perfect. The most intelligent child I have ever encountered. He should have been mine. As you should have been. What do you think fair Annabella about this now? A wondrous irony don’t you think so my sweet? That the very thing you tried to shield him from, will be his one salvation. I shall make him an image of me. He will do as I bid him, and will be an asset to this empire I have built. My son Anthony is fine, but he doesn’t have the strength this child has. This boy has what it takes to become one who the world would fear. And he will do my empire justice. There is something that I have to get out of him… he is such a sweet boy… his big blue eyes remind me of you Annabella, so trusting and loving. I have to teach him to find this trait in others and use it, but I have to destroy it in him. He will be…
The rest of the entry was cut of, but he didn’t notice that it ended there, because he was 8 again, just like all the other times he had read those same words.
The little boy with bright blue eyes, looked out the barred windows of the basement. And like every other night, he tried to picture his mother, to will her to come to him, to sing to him, to take him where everything was bright and soft and comforting. At the beginning she came, and then she started to come less often, then one night she didn’t come anymore. And He started to forget. Forget everything beyond these walls of the castle and the room in the basement. He wanted the little boy to forget. He has made that clear. This was his home now, and he — the man with the phoenix ring– was the only person who cared about him. But no matter how hard he tried. How hard he pushed and willed and punished one thing the little boy never forgot… a teardrop falling from an eye….
Coming atop on the deck, standing in a scourge of rain and wind, while the boat rocked about the merciless waves, she started to relive her first moments arriving on the dingy old wooden thing, he called a boat.
The twin masts creaked in the whipping wind. She shivered and climbed down the ladder into the belly of the boat. It was dark and damp; she stood at the foot of the ladder refusing to take another step, “You got away from whatever you were trying to get away from. Now let me go.”
He smiled coldly and pushed her a step forward into the dark hole, then in an infuriating drawl he said, “I guess you didn’t understand that you are coming with me!”
A chill ran over her body, but she did her best to hide her fear, “I cannot come with you. That is out of the question.”
“Listen to me and listen well Doctor. I need someone to tend my wounds and you are it.”
Fury flamed her face, “If you had stayed in the hospital, they would have tended to you just fine. I am not a magician and I have nothing to tend to you with. But I do have patients and children who do need me. I cannot possibly come with you.”
He sneered and she wanted to wipe it of his face, “You don’t understand do you? You are my hostage. I am not giving you a choice here. And if you don’t stop that smart mouth of yours from talking, I make sure you’ll never see anyone you care about ever again,” jabbing the surgical knife under her chin he icily stated, “I hope I made myself perfectly clear Doctor.” Pushing her atop the bed there, he stormed out.
“DO SOMETHING,” Marlena shouted to the man who was lost in thought, in another place and time to her. She didn’t care. She just didn’t want it to end like this. Not liked this.
The sound of her frantic voice jolted him out of his trance. He shook himself, then realized he hadn’t. The boat was rocking hard beneath him, the waters around him. The night had turned dark and cloudy, and the lady doctor was looking at him like a lost child. He knew that look; he had just seen it in the mirror on the basement wall.
The waves crashed. The thunder roared. The lightening cut the sky. The water lashed against the boat. The boat tried to survive.
“Grab the Rudder, and hold on to it as tight as you can, try to keep it in the straight line with the middle of the boat,” he instructed as he held firmly to the steering wheel, trying to keep it on the course. All the time not knowing if it was the right one.
She stood there, shivering under the slash of rain and the harshness of the wind, her strength draining from her with every second that passed, but still determine to do what it took to survive, ” What in the world is a Rudder?”
Her voice was lost in the rain, all she could hear was the wind circling around them trying to engulf the boat. She lost her control, and the tears fell out of her eyes for the first time since he had seen her, “I don’t know what it is, I don’t know. I don’t know!”
He knew he was not going to die like this, he had a score to settle with the devil. And he didn’t want her to die, he didn’t understand why, but the thought of her not being there scared him, something he had vowed to never be, scared. “It is the tail of the boat, just grab it,” and before the words were out of his mouth she was holding on to the rudder, like a lifeline.
He turned around, and gave his full attention to the ocean in front of them, to the nature that was trying to take them, and to the place beyond this storm that would be his salvation.
No matter how hard he tried, image of her and the sound of her voice came back to him. He didn’t know what her words made him feel; it wasn’t what she said, but how she said it. It was the face that was now crumpled and vulnerable. A face that reminded him of something beautiful, something that he had held onto all his life, something he did not remember.
” What is your name?” she asked after a few moment of silence.
“WHAT?” he shouted back, taken of guard by her sudden question.
“I thought if we are going to face death together, we should be properly introduced. Since you already know who I am. It is only fair to tell me who you are.”
He blinked fascinated. They might die any moment, becoming shark food, and she wanted to be properly introduced. He decided to humor her, and yes tell her the truth, the real truth, “The Prince of Darkness.”
She let out a laugh, it was rich, and beautiful, a song that had a heartfelt melody to it, “And I am the Queen of Fairies.”
How did she do that? How did she make a joke at a time like this?
He looked back towards her, and again wondered what made her so fascinating to him. She had climbed the rocks; she had walked in the rain, and fought him to leave. She had not trembled when he put the spatula at her throat. For all she knew, he could have, would have, and still might kill her. She had remained strong. And now she was afraid. Afraid of the ocean, of the angry waters, of the nature and yet she knew how to stride in the face of problems. She did not know him, or she would have every reason to be afraid of him, much more than the nature.
He looked down at his blood stained bandages, and touched the cut on his head. The pain was becoming too much for him to think straight, and he wondered how she was possibly dealing with her wounds, how she was sounding so relaxed. He turned his attention back to the raging ocean, she was occupying his mind way too much, “Let’s survive first, and then I might just tell you my whole life story.”
“Are we going to?”
“Are we going to what?”
“Are we going to survive. You don’t honestly think this excuse of a boat is going to outlive this do you?”
Man, she was infuriating. Just when he was starting to tolerate her company, “Would you just be quiet and let me concentrate?”
“You are more of a fool than I thought, if you think you can battle nature with this and win,” she spat out. Anger rising in her at him. How could he do this to her? How could he ensure she would die without ever seeing her family again? It just wasn’t fair. She had nothing to do with his battle, his agenda, and his life. With each thought her anger doubled, until she exploded, “I hate you. You miserable…”
“Shut up. Just shut up or I’ll make you quiet myself. One more word out of you and I will throw you overboard. Do you hear me?” his voice was so loud it carried through the storm, and night.
The Blood was soaking through the wet bandage on her forehead. She was tired. She wanted to just let go, to sink into the oblivious darkness of her subconscious, and her memories. The warm and welcoming place where her children would run to her, welcoming her home, where a man’s arms would engulf her in their warmth, and where a kiss would be all she needs to survive. And as her thoughts took her mind off the storm, the sound of the crashing waves became distance, and finally disappeared into the space around her. She felt warmth surrounding her. And she was finally content.
No objection from her made him turn around to gloat. He had finally managed to make her stop arguing. The moment he saw her, he knew she was going to fall before her eyes closed. He could feel her drifting into that dreamlike state just before the darkness took over. Without hesitation he let go of the wheel and dashed toward her, hoping to catch her before she hit the hard boards of the floor. So his arms swept her in.
Holding her tight, he wondered if he had done the wrong thing by taking her. She wasn’t part of this, part of his battle, part of his revenge. She looked so fragile in his arms that it felt he might break her by gathering her too tight.
He thought about how he might have done thing differently. Maybe he should have let her go once they reached the boat. Maybe he would send her back once they reach the shore. He felt odd. He had never had regrets. They were foreign to him, to his nature.
‘The prince of darkness’ that was what he told her his name was. And He was dark, as dark and ugly as a human being could get. And yet he wanted to make sure she was safe. Yes, he would send her back, when the time was right.
He was so lost that he didn’t see the waves rising high, higher, and higher still. When he looked up, the water circled in, and he wondered if he would live long enough to experience a more undesirable feeling than regret– guilt.
The sun’s rays softly caressed her face and their warmth against her cool skin, made her open her eyes for a few moments. The moon was sharing the sky with the sun, one of the few miracles of life, when day and night joined to make a perfect sunrise. She smiled as she visualized her children fast asleep under the same sky. She didn’t know what ached more, the injuries from the wreck, or the pain in her heart from being apart from the family she cherished beyond words. Then the darkness took over, and she drifted away in the arms of the happy memories.
The water was a pool of liquid gemstones shimmering in light. A ragged line of rocks thrust out of the water, gathering height and power until they finally became a headland braced against the seductive wash of waves. The waves that were now just soft lullaby, a view of graceful dance of sand and water from the shore. The trees tall and strong could be seen for miles, and the land lay bronzed in the late summer splendor. The water a restless blue, the picture a true meaning of paradise.
Pain chose to send tidal waves of red-hot lightening bolts firing through him at the worst possible moment. Wincing from the pain and the scratchy sand that was rubbing against his cheeks, he lifted his head and realized he had been denied freedom. He had survived. There was no escape from the pain. No escape from the nightmares. The ghosts that chased him with offerings of hope. Offerings that faded away in the harsh light of day. Turning his head away from the visions, he choked harshly on the salty waters that washed around him.
He could see the shards of the ship floating up on the shore, pulling himself to a sitting position he suddenly remembered that he was alone. She was nowhere to be seen. Gingerly, he rose to his feet. The pain ran through him like a knife, but his mind was on something else. A feeling grasped his heart and wouldn’t let go. A Heavy feeling of being captured inside a cage– too small to move or breath; being held so tight that the life squeezed out of him. He tried to catch his breath, hard and deep. But his lungs wouldn’t let him take that easy step. The pressure built each moment his eyes scanned the beach, and didn’t find what they were looking for. Why did he feel lost? The image of the tear falling from the eyes… He reached out to catch the drop before it mingled with the salty water of pacific, only to find that it was just a mirage.
He hadn’t seen that image so clearly since he was just a little boy. He remembered the feeling seeing that image would provoke in him before. Now, somehow without his knowledge the eyes had grown more beautiful, more piercing, and more real than ever before. The teardrop falling from it meant more than it had ever in his life. He shook his head to free himself from another assaulting memory, one he could not place, one that made him uneasy, and yet one that always had driven him to strive and survive. He suddenly spotted a figure floating on a piece of wood in the water.
She was floating on her back, her hair fanning out and gently flowing in the water; a faint smile curving her blue tinged lips. Pale as the moon, cold as the ice, and yet he desperately wanted to feel the warmth.
His hand reached out and gathered her in the arms that were bleeding, without pain now. The droplets of blood decorated her skin, as he pulled her to the shore with him. The sand was warm and welcoming. He stood up with her in his arms, and let the sand weave through his feet, mixing with the source of life that was left in him.
He gently placed her on top of the blanket of white washed sand, hoping some of its warmth would seep through her and make her whole again. With one arm still beneath her head, he knelt next to her as a servant praying to his creator. He could feel his heart exploding with a mixture of emotions he was not used to, did not understand. And yet at that moment, its pain was more cutting, more unbearable than the wounds that were oozing with blood. He bent his head, helplessly descending it to her lips. Without wanting to his lips softly brushed hers. They were lifeless and cold, and yet he thought he knew how they should feel, warm and welcoming. Delicate and soft. He suddenly looked up to the skies, an animal like cry leaving him as he shouted from the agony that was rocking his body.
Then he did the implausible. He brought his hand down upon her broken body in a fist. And he hit her where he was hurting, right there on her heart. He hit her harder and harder each time his fist made contact. And then he blew his life into her, as his lips captured her blue with coldness ones and poured all the air from his lungs into hers. He didn’t have time to think what all this meant, he knew CPR was too late and yet here he was beating a broken doll, trying to hold on to something so desperately.
Nothing had ever looked more beautiful to him than she coughing up water and sand; her body heaving and trying to survive. She looked perfect, her skin white and pale against the sand, and the black shreds of her dress. The gash in her head was springing blood down her forehead into the sand, and she was black and blue, and alive. He looked at her, and with each passing moment, as she finally stopped spitting water and started to breathe naturally, he became angrier. She had made him desperate. And that was one thing he had never been. He turned his back to her sure she would open up her eyes, the color he wasn’t sure of, and look at him and see things he did not want to share. He didn’t want to share anything with her actually. She was just like a disease that had crept into his system and was taking over all his senses. Fool.
She felt as if she was lying on top of bed of nails, with her limps being stretched in opposite directions. She was being pulled apart, by pain, and emotions that were tearing at her being– physically and psychologically. She summoned a smile at the last thought, she was a shrink, and she should know what to do, how to handle this, but how do you handle being apart from your heart? And yet she felt better now that she had opened her eyes and seen his receding form, than she had when she last opened them before. His presence was both comforting, and frightening. It was a totally irrational feeling, he was the reason she was in this situation in the first place, and yet, she was glad she wasn’t alone. Fear of dying alone. She concluded as she quietly laid back on the sand, her head getting too heavy to hold up. She had no energy to start another argument with him right now, though she wanted desperately to know why he had saved her life.
He looked around him for the first time. He froze. Nothing could have prepared him for this. How could fate hand him yet another losing hand? But again, wasn’t the first rule of poker, knowing how to bluff? The island had changed, a lot. The trees were now non-ruling and had grown and were leaning into each other. The water was still as beautiful as ever, a sign that freedom was in reach, and also a barrier to that freedom. It was the rocks that had not changed. They were still there, letting the waves crash and break against them, into millions of droplets, and shimmer as they rolled back into the ocean. That has not changed, that relationship between ocean and the rocks; that dream that he can break free, and the knowledge that he will always come back to where he started before. And here he was, back to the place where he had sworn he would never come back to, after his eighteen’s birthday.
“Are you serious? I can go where I want to and do as I please?” the young man looked at the only man he had ever known in disbelief, after years of dreaming about this, this could not have been happening.
The older man smiled and nodded his head “I told you, you could when you are 18, and here you are, a fine young man, and ready to explore the world. You can try it on your own, and then we try it together, so I can show you what I have been preparing you for.”
The young man finally smiled, secretly promising himself he will never come back, “Sure. I can’t wait to see what is beyond this island.”
The older man grinned as he looked at him, and then looked away.
“He knew I would come back to him. He knew, and yet it seems he didn’t know that much,” He turned back to the woman that was threatening his sanity. She had lain back and he could see her still breathing. He wanted to go and see the place for the first time in years- alone. But the thought of leaving her there, and the tide coming up in a few hours, wasn’t sitting pleasantly with him. He walked toward her, and bent his knees, his fingers brushed her sandy hair out of her face, as he reached under her, and held her in his arms, standing up.
With her breath soft and warm on his neck, and her blood hot and alive dripping down his chest, he walked toward the past he had escaped for the first time in years, somehow knowing he was holding the key to his future in his arms.
“One more step. Just one more.”
Move.
“Take it dammit. It is just a house.”
Walk. Not slowly! Why are you hesitating? It is not like you didn’t live here before.
“But that was before I knew.”
So what? Now you know. Move it.
“I can’t. I can’t move.”
Just one push and the door will be open. All you need is one more step.
“But I can’t. Why can’t you understand?”
There is nothing to understand. You are a free man now.
“Free. Free? Who are you kidding? I will never be free until I destroy him.”
Then move and destroy him.
But he couldn’t take the step. And the fact that he was arguing with himself was utterly ridiculous.
Then do it for her.
“Who?”
The one in your arms. Do it for her.
Do it for her…
He looked down at the almost lifeless figure in his arms; he would do it for her. He owed her that much. She needed a rest; she needed her wounds to be attended. She needed a warm place to sleep in, out of the rain. She needed all he could give her. He owed her that. After all, if it wasn’t for him she wouldn’t be here.
Without knowing, he had walked into the house and up the stairs to the master bedroom. By the time he looked up from her pale face, he had already done what he hadn’t thought possible. He had stepped into a nightmare by his own will, but unlike what he had always imagined, he had not done it on his own.
He placed her on the mattress, so tenderly. He was afraid she might break even more than he had already broken her. Correction, he hadn’t broken her, the storm had. He had never seen anyone as willful as this woman. This strange and fascinating creature that had walked into his life in the middle of a stormy night. Wrong again, the one he had stolen in the middle of the stormy night.
For the first time he looked at her, really looked at her. Although pale, her complexion was perfect- a flawless face, with strong angles, and visible softness around the eyes and mouth. He reached out and brushed her hair out of her face, the gash at her forehead was visible and the trails of blood drying on her skin. He touched, and she winced. But didn’t open her eyes. It must hurt.
He stood up abruptly and headed out of the room. He moved around like he was one with the place and yet as detached from it, as a person could be. He had to go there, in that dark place with mirrors and bars and the smell of… He discarded that thought and focused his mind on his mission. First Aid kit, something to wash her wounds with, something to put on them, bandages, and tapes? Maybe some fabric from one of the sheets? What would she wear? She needed something to put on, one of his shirts, if they were still there.
He walked down into the basement without seeing the place. Walked through the doors passing the mirrors and into the bathroom. He opened the sink covers. The kit was there. He opened it; everything was still in there, amazing. He stood up, and walked into the large room, avoiding the bed and the barred windows, he turned and walked right in front of the closet. Opening the doors, he took one look at the extensive collection of suits and shirt. He bent down, pulled out the drawer on the top left side, and took a night shirt out of it. He moved back; closed the doors and walked through the basement just as he had done a few moments ago. Up the stairs, and more stairs, up to the master bedroom.
He sat next to her taking her clothes off with deliberate tenderness and without touching her skin. He tried and succeeded at not looking at her as a whole person. Taking her body in parts made her less of a woman, and more of something that needed to be fixed. He covered her with a comforter that was on the bed, it amazed him how there was so little dust covering everything. He walked into the bathroom, and filled the hand bowl with some water. Warm. But the water was always warm in this house… the result of the temperature of the outside world.
He walked back to her, and sat down beside the Sleeping Beauty. Funny how the name fit her so perfectly. He remembered reading the tale once when he was just a boy. The old man wanted him to see how others see the world, so he could use their views. But he had always been transfixed with the part of the prince fighting the dragon and kissing the beauty out of her eternal sleep. For an instant he became the little boy again, with the reality of that tale a dream in his heart. He bent his head and lightly touched her lips, but unlike the tale she didn’t wake up. The little flame of the dream candle was blown out.
His face empty of any emotions, he continued with his task. Washing her wounds one by one, and applying whatever he could find to them. Then bandaging them up, and moving to the next. There were lots of bruises on her arms and legs. The contrast of black and blue against her ivory skin was stunning. It was like he had already put a mark on her. He hoped it wasn’t permanent.
He finally put one of his shirts he had brought from the basement on her. It should do for now. Leaving her in her dream world, where she was sure to be more content than with him, he silently left the room.
Marlena looked around, and her eyes came to rest on a little girl on her bed, “Hello there.”
The little girl smiled, “Hi.”
She grinned back at her, she was a beautiful child, large blue eyes, midnight black hair, her lips curved in the warmest of smiles, “Who are you?”
The little girl shook her head, “You know Mommy.”
Mommy? She must be lost. She was mistaken. “Honey, I don’t know you.”
The girl smiled, “Yes, you do Mommy.” Her voice trailed into a firm whisper, “You do.” With childlike concern she added,”Does your head hurt?”
Marlena wasn’t sure what to say; she would find her Mom for her later, “Yes, it does a bit.”
She slid a little closer to Marlena, and touched her forehead, “It will be OK. He took care of you.”
Marlena looked lost, who took care of her? Then she remembered her kidnapper from the night before, they had survived, she hadn’t thought they would, “He did?” but why would he?
The little girl nodded in agreement, “You helped him too.”
Marlena looked at her in shock, “I did? With what?”
The girl moved away from Marlena now, sitting at the foot of the bed, “He’ll tell you when he is ready. Mommy, I am so glad you came back to take me home.”
Oh baby, I am not your Mommy, Marlena thought smiling sadly at the girl.
The little girl circled her arms around her knees and looked back at her, “I always knew you would come back. Go to sleep Mommy. You need it.”
Marlena was about to argue, to ask more questions, but she found herself drifting back to sleep, “Before I do. Would you at least tell me what your name is?”
She smiled, “Pandora. Sweet dreams Mommy.”
He hadn’t been able to leave the room. The moment he had walked into the hallway, his lungs shut out on him. He wasn’t able to breathe. His lungs refused to expand, the air supply cut from his blood stream. He gasped for air, like a fish thrown out of the water. So he had turned back into the room, and the moment he stepped inside he could breathe again.
He leaned against the door and watched her sleep in the white king-sized bed, with gold trimmings, and a canopy. She did look like a sleeping beauty, her golden hair fanned on the fluffed pillow, her skin now gaining back its peachy color. He had put woods in the fireplace, and started the fire. After spending the night under the assault of the rain and wind, he knew the heat was needed. She looked peaceful, and it had let him to take a long look. Her cheekbones were high, she didn’t have full lips, but they were tempting ones, her nose strong and perfect for her face. She had a small face, delicate features, and yet every angle showed she was a fighter. Her lashes had creased a shadow on her skin, her closed lids hiding her eyes. He still hadn’t seen the color of her eyes, blue? Brown? Maybe green. It didn’t really matter. The fire was playing across her skin, and the dance of flames on the velvet of her body had him mesmerized.
He forgot where he was.
“Hello Marlena. It’s been a long time,” He sneered, approaching her.
She backed up, “You can’t be here, you are dead. I killed you.”
He laughed his trademark evil laugh; “You can’t possibly believe that. I warned you not to look into the past, but you wouldn’t listen.”
She took another step backward; the hard cold walls of the room came into contact with her back. She didn’t dare show him her fear, but it was hard to hide the hatred, “What past? Why would I search into the past?”
“The one that is mine. Forget Pandora Marlena.” He took another step forward, his breath touching her skin.
She flinched. He grabbed at her, his fingers pressing into her flesh. His hand inching up from her waist, she screamed. “Let me go Stefano! No!! Don’t touch me! Let go of me! Let go!!”
He jolted out of his daydream, and ran to her side. Her cries were loud and heart wrenching. He shook her desperately, “Wake up, you are just dreaming. Wake up!”
But she wouldn’t.
His hand rose, and descended on her soft skin.
Her eyes flew open, and her terror-filled pools of green looked him right in the eyes.
They were green, they were brown, and they were the most beautiful eyes he had ever seen.
He let go of her suddenly, as if she burned him.
Her hand flew to her face, and touched the tender skin there.
He saw the imprint of his fingers had marked her. “You wouldn’t stop screaming.”
“So you decided to hit me?” she hissed back. Her face throbbing where his hand had struck.
“I had no other choice. You just wouldn’t stop screaming.” He didn’t tell her how calling out Stefano’s name had scared him. How her screams had tore at something inside he didn’t know he possessed- a heart to be clawed from within.
“OK let me see how this work. I won’t come with you and you put a knife at my throat. I won’t wake up and you decide you just slap me out of it. What is next?” She retorted angrily. He had hit her. She didn’t know why, but that had hurt more than everything else she has been through. It felt wrong. She felt violated.
He looked at her in amazement, and to think he was feeling sorry for her. This woman didn’t know when to stop that smart mouth of hers. “Have it your way! I did what I had to do, to achieve what I wanted.”
“Oh great, let me see. Next you’ll get an itch and if I don’t comply, you are going to ra…”
“STOP IT. Don’t dare say another word,” he shouted, then he whispered in a voice as cold as an arctic breeze, “I am not Stefano dammit.”
Before she could reply, he turned on his heels and left the room.
Touching the now numbing mark on her face, she felt the tears start to burn her eyes.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~`
July 1999
My prince of darkness thinks he has won this time. So like him and so unlike the reality. But again, he seemed to always have a hard time telling the real apart from make believe. He and fair Marlena have disappeared. Resuming their romantic honeymoon I presume.
He grinned wickedly, moving a piece on the board then continued with his entry; he had yet another move they did not know about.
I wonder what Marlena would think of her sweet John, if she knew what he had been doing the past few days. I will cherish the moment I tell her about it, but not now, I have better things in store for her. That shall be my last move. Also I have to regroup to make my plans work. I always thought I own his soul. At least one of them. But alas, even my prince of darkness was planning on escaping me. I still cannot believe he stabbed me. Oh well, no dueling on the past. That is what has just handed them a losing game. It doesn’t matter now. I make all the moves; I am always one step ahead in the game. My last, best, and most unexpected would be the ultimate revenge, and victory. Pandora.
He closed the journal and moved one more piece on the board, “Checkmate.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Overlooking the Pacific Ocean, he stood on top of the rocks that once was the only place he allowed himself to dream. He dreamed again, this time holding a price in his hands. Her freedom, for his.
“We see those we love in every sunrise, and in every sunset, in every tree and in every flower.”
John Black, known to those around him as The Prince of Darkness, couldn’t remember who had said that. He didn’t care as there was something in the beauty of the rustling palms behind him and crashing waves below him that continually repeated a pattern over and over, not caring that time went on, and that life went on. The colors of sunset, that mixture of shocking pink against the pale blue. This was truly a paradise and all he could see in it was Stefano. The roaring waves drowned out the sound of his heart. His mind could almost let go of all thoughts but the beauty around him, yet there was just something blocking it. Unlike the waves, that eventually wear down the rocks, there was nothing to wear down the thoughts in his mind.
He threw the branch he was holding down the cliff. “Damn you Stefano.” He took a few steps back from the ledge, and sat down on a rock that overlooked the ocean. Stefano had been the only constant in his life. The part he remembered. He’d been there through stages when John needed guidance, someone to talk to. Stefano had been helping him get through life and had shown him how to survive. And what had John done to repay him? He’d stabbed Stefano with no remorse.
~~~~~
She stared after him for minutes on end. Her face throbbing where his hand had hit. Tears gathered but were not shed. Her eyes stung.
“STOP IT. Don’t dare say another word,” he shouted, then he whispered in a voice as cold as an arctic breeze, “I am not Stefano dammit.”
The words rang in her ears, as the scene kept on playing over and over again. Her heart hammered against her chest. A caged bird- a frightened bird- wanting to be set free. How did he know Stefano? Why did he compare himself to him? Why did it hurt to see him storm out on her so angry and hurt?
She tossed the silk creamy comforter away from her. The breeze from the open window beside her brought her back to life. Her cheeks burned red– embarrassed, furious and gracious. She looked down at her bare legs, pulling them up to her chest as her fingers touched the bruises that ran up her thighs and rested on a bandaged wound just below her waist. She blushed again, furiously. ” That arrogant unethical pervert.” He had undressed her to her bare skin. He had touched her body, he had seen her naked. All the while she was out of this world. “How dare he.” She was wearing nothing but a male shirt and various bandages. She looked at the fine work on her wounds. They were clean, and masterful. They were done with so much care and patience.
The thought of his hands moving on her body, like the hands of a father on his child’s injured flesh, made her heart ache. She sighed in defeat. “Who are you?” He was a mystery; complicated and unsolved. One moment he looked as if his heart was breaking for what he has done to her– for taking her. The rest he shouted and yelled and was as cold as the ice coving the mountains. Hard, tall, cold and out of reach. Damn that man for turning her insides upside down, and making it so confusing. She didn’t care. She didn’t want to care.
~~~~~~~~~
John shifted uncomfortable on the rock. The sharp edges were digging into his already bitten flesh. “Damn you Stefano. Why did you have to show up and ruin everything?” John wanted out. Stefano knew that. “All I ever wanted was to be able to leave without you finding me. I need to find… I need to do something” . Stefano didn’t know that, but he had shown up and disturbed all his plans. Gina, stupid Gina was the reason he stabbed Stefano. He throw a ston down into the waters, “I don’t hate you Stefano. How can I? You are all I have. But I had to pretend that I do. I am sorry.” Hating Stefano was the only reason he was able to get Gina to help him. That and telling her he loved her. How stupid women were. All he had to do to get them to do his bidding was to tell them a few lies… screw their brains out, and they would believe everything.
Love, what a meaningless word. There was no such a thing as love, not the way people dreamed about it. He’d learned at an early age, how to lie, how to take without giving anything in return. “You thought me those Stefano.” Women were there to please him, and get rid of his needs. Not for him to please them. And Gina had played right into his hands. He needed her to make sure he could escape without a trace. Then he would have done something about dispensing of her.
Now John was going to make amends with Stefano. If Stefano still wanted Marlena. He could have her, and that way he would be paying the man back for stabbing him. “I’ll make it up to you Stefano. I promise.”
******
Marlena pushed the lace away from the sides of the bed, the act so familiar that she suddenly felt cold. Her body shivered uncontrollably. She could feel her blood losing heat. She swung her legs down the sides of the massive bed, and stood up. Her head felt heavy and her legs felt too weak to support her. But she managed to stand up straight. Strong. She ran her fingers through her silky golden hair. She looked about the room for the first time. The floor was in shiny wood panels, covered with a massive Persian rug– beautiful patterns in vibrant yet subtle colors. The rug seemed to be the only piece in the room that was not white. The bed with its lace canopy was the prominent furniture in the room. A love seat in white and gold was just to the side of the marble fireplace. The fire blazing within it gave the cream and gold wallpaper a hue of warmth. There was a door to her left. Mirrored double doors and to her right an open mini hallway. She could see the ceramic tiles from where she stood. The bathroom she presumed. The rest of the room was decorated in beautiful antique finery. Two bedside tables that were carved pinewood. An antique white and gold dresser with real jewel trimming at the top of the frame. The walls were decorated in soft, misty painting with the same colored pattern for their frames.
Marlena walked toward the closet, slowly sliding the doors to one side. Her eyes caught the hem of a pink dress in the darkened space. A chill ran through her. Turning her head she focused on the fire, willing her legs to take her there. “Please.” She needed to get close enough to touch it. To hold her hand in its warmth. The thought of getting burned never entered her mind. “What is happening?” She needed the heat. She was so cold. Frozen. All feeling was leaving her body, her flesh. Marlena felt almost like an empty shell. Drained. Ready to be preserved.
******
John closed his eyes. A silent dream swam just beneath the surface of his mind. His fingers moved through the air, then rested at his sides. He wanted to be held, like a cup held warm water. A tear dropping from an eye. His hand moved in the dark. The tear fell before his fingers reached it. Just like always…
His eyes snapped open. His breathing was rapid and shallow, a fish again out of the water. He tried to regain his composure. He ran his fingers through his black wavy hair that was damp from sweat. He winced at the pain the simple act cost. “Oh sh*t.” The cold sweat of fear and death. His death. Pain. The pain that remembering those eyes always brought to him. “Why don’t you just leave me alone.” A dull, quiet pain that he had always lived with, and embraced almost all his life. A pain that told him he existed one day– he used to matter. A pain and a sorrow that had become a part of him. Driven him all his life. The awful pain that meant life. A life that was taken away from him… a stolen promise…
~~~~
The breeze from the slightly open window ruffled the curtains; those too were white and gold. She needed the fire, but instead her legs moved toward the window. Away from the heat and the fireplace on the other side. She tried to turn. Her body refused to cooperate with her.
Marlena was now standing in front of the high windows with their white trim; the curtains pulled back to allow the sun in.
Her eyes registered the beautiful sunny sky, before her vision blurred. She saw the clouds gathering and the sun disappearing beneath them. The wind, that horrible strong wind, forcing its way through the trees, bending them, breaking those that refused to surrender. The leaves falling. The lightening sounding louder and louder as it approached the mansion. And then the rain, those sharp needles that penetrated the skin. The pain of assaulting nature.
~~~~
John stood up and looked at the setting sun once again. It was the marriage of ocean with the sky– two entities, one engulfing the other. The surreal surrounding the real. He wanted that and he wanted the dream. He wanted the feeling of being held in the nothingness that was everything. The feeling of being surrounded without being trapped. The feeling of being safe. The magnificent waves rolled atop each other racing to the shore. The colors of rainbows and the beauty of nature. But he saw none of that… for some strange unfathomable reason all he saw was a pair of eyes. A pair of eyes in the face of a woman that in a short period of time had come to consume his thoughts just when his nightmares pledged to suffocate him.
John shook his head. “Why do you have to always creep into my mind?” He almost hated her for consuming him like this. He hated to feel. It was dangerous to feel. To survive he had learned not to be human. He had succeeded. The dream of eyes had become so rare and infrequent he had forgotten them…until his pass crossed with the Lady doctor.
Everything had changed in the past 24 hours… his life, his plans, and his future. “Why did it have to be you?” He could have taken anyone from that hospital and yet he hadn’t. He had to go and take her. “I can see why you want her Stefano.” She was a picture of contrasts. Delicate and strong. Vulnerable and proud. He smiled. He had just solved to problems in one. “It’s the only way to get you out of my system lady.”
~~~~~
She shivered again, willed the sun to come back out. But the day just became colder and colder, harsher and harsher.
Then her world stopped turning.
The pair of hands tore her dress apart, the rain slid down her ivory breasts, a painful sharp repeated abuse. She felt none of that. One rough hand grabbed her breast in a painful hold. “Tell me!” The voice demanded. She heard herself whisper, “I love you. I want you.” The hand moved up grabbing her delicate face, crushing it between his fingers, “You are a liar.” The cold hatred and rage rang in every word he spoke. He looked down at her again. His eyes roaming over her body. She felt sick, but her eyes where focused beyond him. She didn’t even feel his hand grabbing for her, finding her dry, unwilling, and resistant.
She was trying. With everything she was she tried. Willing her body to lie, to pretend, but her heart was shattering, and she could not.
“You lying b*tch.” He spat, pulling his hand away. He looked behind him in disgust; “She is all yours Caesar.”
Her legs buckled beneath her, her voice rang out in an agonizing scream, and the tears fell unnoticed. She heard herself pleading with him, “Please no. I wasn’t lying. I do want you, Stefano. Love you. Please don’t do this.” Another scream torn the night, then another, but she couldn’t tell whose it was anymore.
Marlena slipped to the floor. Her hand possessively over her stomach. Her body heaving with so much ache, her heart threatened to explode. She sobbed one word over and over, “No, No, No!!!!!!”
The breeze blew inside, moving the lace curtains softly, brushing against her hair, like a caress of a child. The sun was setting in the horizon just as always, the waters were calm and shimmering. The birds were singing. Marlena was aching, longing, hurting, and falling.
******
The wind softly danced among the tall palm trees. They rustled, almost whispering. His back stiffened as he heard a voice, a small voice at his side, “You won’t give her to him. You two need each other.” John shivered when he felt a little hand gripping his fingers. His heart knotted in a painful sense of loss. He glanced down. There was nothing there but the waves crashing into the rocks, and wind blowing towards the shore. Nothing but ghostly impression that he had lost something infinitely precious.
As John turned around ready to walk away, the same small voice whispered from somewhere among the trees. “Hurry, Mommy needs you now.” He ran. He was a man without a clear past, or future, and only today to cling to. He ran as fast as he could towards the only thing he knew was real.
“Thumpthumpthumpthumpthumpthumpthump.
Thump.thump.thump..thump..thump..thump…
Thump…thump…thump…thump…thump…
Thump… thump…
Thump…
Silence.
There was no more sound, not even a whisper of air through the halls. His heart still beat fast. He was stone still. His hand reached out to open the door. His body took a step back instead. He leaned against the walls and closed his eyes. “What the hell is the matter with you?” He could almost hear Stefano, his face angry as he’d always been when John had done something wrong, or shown weakness. It didn’t matter now, Stefano wasn’t there and John wasn’t ready to face the lady shrink yet. He admitted that to himself. She terrified him. When she looked at him, he felt she could read his mind. He didn’t want her to read it now. He took a deep breath and slowly turned the knob.
The creak of the hinges as the door opened was the only sound penetrating the deafening silence. His eyes roamed the room in one sweep and rested on the figure of a woman he dreaded to see- for the decision he had just made. “What are you doing out of bed?”
She didn’t turn around. If not for the way her body jerked to a taut upright position he would’ve thought she hadn’t heard him. I am giving you to him. Do you know that? Is that why you are afraid? Can you read my mind now? “You should be in bed!” he stated harshly.
She half turned, but then changed her mind and kept her eyes on the last evidence of the sun’s existence. The darkness had almost engulfed the light. She’d heard his footsteps as if he was running. Running to something. From something. Towards something. Do you also have nightmares? The sound of desperation in those steps had jolted her out of her memory, or was it just a sick waking dream? It didn’t mattered. She wasn’t going to let her captive see her vulnerable. Alone. She still wasn’t sure she had her rattled feelings under control. She took a quiet deep breath and continued to look toward the ocean.
“If I hadn’t already experienced your sharp tongue earlier, I might have believed this mime act.” Before the sentence was out, he marched up to her in three long strides. His hands closed around her shoulders, and held her firmly. He felt her muscles tense beneath his touch. Recoil. Disgusted? He didn’t care. Until this moment she was just a captive, but if he had to look at her body’s silhouette beneath his white shirt and her long shapely legs almost bare to the waist one more second he’d have gone crazy.
He turned her around jerkily. “I asked you a question,” he hissed through clenched teeth. Touching her was most definitely the wrong move.
She glared at him. Her eyes blazing with fire- no sign of her earlier state of mind present. “I heard you the first time. But I decided it was none of your business to know.”
He pulled her closer to him. His body touching hers. His breath hot on her face. “Next time you decide on something, maybe you should remember who gives the orders around here at the moment.” His body twisted in anger, objecting to handing her to Stefano. His mind saw no other way to be free– from both her and him.
“Oh we’re back at this are we? You want something and I…” The cold warning in his eyes, made her stop mid sentence. She wasn’t sure why every time he was close enough to touch, she feared him in that way. The nightmares! No matter who he was, he wasn’t going to force her. That knowledge, the naked truth in his vibrant blue eyes, made her relax.
He heard the release of the breath she was holding. He felt her relax in his hands. He’d been staring at her, daring her to say the words. The notion that she believed him capable of rape was eating at him. It actually bruised him when she thought so little of him. Now as her eyes lost some of their cold fire, he found himself lost in their hazel flame. God her eyes are beautiful. He was tempted to just lean over and kiss her eyes, her lips, her…
With a suddenness that took her completely by surprise he picked her up and roughly tossed her on the bed. Alarm bells went off as she landed on her back. He saw the look in her eyes change. She glowered at him with both fear and spite. He swore under his breath and pulled the covers over her with such a force that she protested in pain.
John let go. He stepped back from the bed and turned on his heels to leave, “Go back to sleep and don’t get out of that bed until I say so.” Tossing her on the bed proved to be a bad idea. It reminded him that it wasn’t just her healing. The pain from his cuts and bruises made it loud and clear he also needed some rest.
She snapped back at him, “just because you’re a bully doesn’t mean I have to listen to you. And I HATE this room.”
He was ready to break that pretty neck of hers. But her last statement made him spin to face her in surprise, “And what exactly is wrong with this room?”
She hadn’t meant to tell him that. But the idea of being alone in this room intimidated her. She was not about to tell him the truth, “I don’t like the colors.” What a lame excuse, couldn’t you have come up with a better one.
He looked at her astounded, “This is the best room in this house, and it doesn’t have colors. It’s white.”
“I know what color it is. I just don’t like it. White isn’t my color.”
“Well that’s too bad your Highness. This is it and you’re stuck with it.” He turned back to leave.
“John,” she whispered. Belatedly realizing she had hurt him earlier. Somehow more than he had hurt her during the past few days. It was hard to imagine anything could. “I am sorry.”
He froze.. How did she know his name? He could have sworn he hadn’t told her. Why was she sorry?! If anything he was the one that should be sorry. Why did hearing her voice utter his name in that tone –as if she cared– make him ache? Who are you to me?
He slowly faced her again, his eyes falling on his beaten angel– because she made him regret all the sins he had committed and all the ones yet to come. She was a paradox and he was beginning to gather, a magnificent one. “How do you know my name?”
She gazed at him, for the first time with no sign of fear or anger. “I don’t.” She tilted her head to get a better look. The fire, now the only source of light in the room, had created shadows that covered half his features. She couldn’t make out what he was thinking or feeling. But he wasn’t cold anymore. She remembered hearing his footsteps earlier. What were you running to? A dream? Do you have dreams? Were you coming to see me? Had you seen me by the window earlier. What was I doing? She didn’t remember much after looking into the closet. She thought she saw a slow smile curve his lips, but maybe it was just a twitch of muscles. He had devastating features even in the dark.
“After you’re finished psychoanalyzing me again. Would you mind telling me why you called me John?”
Her cheeks burned. He was charming when he wasn’t demanding or frightening. She could fall easily if he wasn’t her enemy. Her heart ached- for a promise her mind wasn’t ready to contemplate. “Usually when we don’t know someone’s name, we call them John Doe.”
He arched his brow, “Oh.” Why does that sound familiar?
She studied him for a moment longer, “What is your name?”
“John.”
“Your last name doesn’t happen to be Doe. Does it?”
She looked so serious that he couldn’t help the crooked smile that touched his lips, “No. It doesn’t.”
“Oh! Well then John, I am sorry for earlier.”
“Which time?”
“Both. You deserved everything else I said. But not that.”
“Apology excepted.”
“John?”
He liked hearing her say his name. And he knew what she wanted. ” Why don’t you rest a bit and then you can go around and chose any room you want in the house.”
“Thank you.”
He was about to leave when his eyes befell the slightly open closet. He walked to it, and opened it wider. It was filled with woman’s gowns. I didn’t know Stefano had females here. He ran his fingers on the pink silk dress… it was torn. Why would he keep it then? He closed the closet door, “There are some clothes in here, maybe you should go through them and see if they fit.”
John didn’t receive an answer. He turned around. She had her back to him. He could see her shivering beneath the covers. He stepped closer. Her face was buried in her hands. He leaned over and touched the side of her face, “Marlena?”
She didn’t look at him, “I don’t like gowns either.” She sounded so much like a lost child, he wanted to hold her in his arms, and chase her monsters away. He had always had a soft spot for children…like Greta.
“Ok. I’ll go through them. If I find something comfortable, then I’ll leave it out for you. How’s that?” he spoke gently.
It hurt to hear him like this. She wanted so much to ask him to hold her… he felt safe… and that unsettled her. She nodded her head. Still refusing to look at him.
Gazing at her something primitive flared in his eyes. The temptations were too much when she wasn’t fighting… when she looked so fragile and lovely… when…
He straightened and lighted the oil lamp by her bed, closed the window and the curtains. Then he walked away. She heard his retreating steps. She remembered her nightmare again. Was it a nightmare? Or a memory she’d forgotten? She looked up at last. There was something else that had been gnawing at her since he stormed out earlier. She summoned her courage to ask, not entirely ready to hear the answer.
Her next words stopped him in his tracks, “How do you know Stefano?”
The Jarlena Journal 