Torture to Her Soul

"History repeats itself," she says, "first as a tragedy, second as a farce."

Karl Marx.

Time waits for no man. The world won't just roll over and take it.

She can purge her aggression, lose herself with me, and I'll never begrudge her for it.

Because I know the feeling.

Clothes are tattered and bodies are battered as we strip away every stitch of fabric separating us. There's nothing gentle about it, nothing loving.

What am I supposed to say?

Before I can come up with something, Naz stands. I think he's going to leave, that he's going to walk away, and his name is on my lips to stop him when instead he turns my way.

All that escapes is a gasp of surprise.

Naz drops to his knees. No, to a knee. Just one. Right there, beside the bed, completely naked in the darkness. The man gets on a single knee beside me. My thoughts are a hellacious blizzard I can't see through to get a grasp on my surroundings. I don't know where I stand. I feel like I'm floating, hovering, my feet no longer on the ground. Knocked on my ass by this man for the second time today.

"Naz," I say, my voice with a panicked edge to it. "Oh God, Naz, what are you…?"

"Just be quiet and let me do this, okay?"

"But—"

"Please, Karissa."

Please. The man said please.

That alone silences me.

"I've been thinking about doing this all day," he says. "All fucking day it's been pestering me. Should I do it? Should I not do it? I didn't know what was the right choice. I still don't know. But I can't think about it anymore. So I'm doing it, and hoping like hell you know the right choice, because I don't."

I'm speechless.

Fucking speechless.

Naz opens his hand, and in his palm is a ring. I can't see it in the darkness, not really, but I can tell it's modest, not at all like the ring he gave me once before. That ring was gaudy and extravagant. This ring looks nothing like what he'd choose.

and one for them. I've buried them all, disposed of bodies and left a trail of charred remains in my wake, and now all that's left is my own grave. And I dug it, all right… dug it so deep there's no fucking way out of it.

No way out of it, and I'm seconds away from dragging a woman I love into it with me yet again.

"Go." The word is from my lips without a second thought. I can't give it a second thought or the selfish monster inside of me will stop it, with stop this moment of weakness. "Go. Now. Before I can't let you go again."

"What?"

Her voice is tear-filled and full of confusion. I open my eyes, looking at her. The sight of her distress hurts.

I have to look back away.

"Leave, if you want. If you want out, go. I won't come after you."

"You won't?"

I try not to be hurt by the hope I hear in her question.

Try, and fail.

It fucking hurts.

"I won't," I say. "If you want to leave, I'll let you leave."

She stares at me, expression blank, as she tries to come to terms with what I'm saying.

"I don't want you to," I tell her, the words spilling out of me, a hitch in my voice. I've never felt so vulnerable in my life, cracking myself open for her. "Letting go of you will kill me. So I'm asking you to stay… to stay with me. It's my turn to ask you to stay this time. But it's up to you. I can't make this choice. You're going to have to make it. Stay or go."

She slowly pulls herself to her feet and takes a step back. One step. That's all it takes. My insides break.

tell me, because I'll do it for you. Whatever it is. It's yours."

She stares at me in contemplation. "I'll think about it."

Leaning down, I kiss her softly. "That's a start."

She takes some more pictures before we stroll away, just walking through the streets with no real destination in mind. We stop inside a few shops and I buy her some gelato, watching with amusement as she takes the first bite. Her eyes roll in the back of her head as she sticks the spoon back in the small bowl, getting a scoop of the messy tan-colored gelato.

"Here," she says, holding the spoon out to me. "Try some."

Hesitating, I shake my head. Chocolate Hazelnut. "No thanks."

Shrugging, she takes another bite.

And another.

And another

Faith.

Trust.

Pixie Dust.

The words shine bold, written in gold, on the colorful old poster. I saw it a few times in the past, hanging in Karissa's dorm room, but I haven't seen it since she moved out of there.

Until now, anyway.

The big eyes of the little blonde fairy glare at me across the bedroom, from where she's now affixed to my wall, haphazardly tacked there. The poster is crinkled, and crooked, the bottom right corner torn.

It looks like it belongs in a trashcan, not hanging beside my bed.

The sight of it makes my skin crawl from anxiety. I want to tear it down... or, hell, at least hang it up straight, smooth out the wrinkles and make it presentable. But I don't. I do nothing but stand in the doorway, irritated, and stare at the goddamn thing in the dim lighting.

Shaking my head, I turn around and head downstairs. I'm too exhausted to deal with its sudden appearance right now. I spent all afternoon dealing with things for Ray, handling business, and I just want to be able to unwind for a bit, put that all behind me and relax.

The only light on in the house is the den, the sound of the television filtering out when I head that way. More cooking shows, I assume. Always the goddamn Food Network. Stepping in the doorway, I pause again from surprise when the same little blonde bitch from upstairs greets me on the screen.

a bite mark earlier, as he presses himself against me. He's hard. "You want that, baby?"

I shiver, running my fingers through the hair at his nape. "Uh, yeah, but I meant I want to get married."

He pulls back, raising his eyebrows. "Get married? Now?"

"Yes," I whisper. "Tonight."

"But—"

"Be quiet," I say, cutting him off, covering his mouth with my hand as I laugh. "You want me to pick a date, right? Well I pick one. Today."

He looks stunned, but he doesn't argue, a small smile tugging the corner of his lips. He leans down toward me, leaving a light kiss against my lips. "Anything you want, Karissa. It's yours."

Hours later, after the sun has risen, Naz and I stand in the small chapel at the MGM Grand. There are no guests, no friends, no family, just strangers as witnesses and a man licensed to marry us. I don't wear a wedding dress. Naz doesn't even wear a suit. Just me, and him, and the simplest vow.

I promise to love you forever.

It's the only promise we've got.

After the man declares us husband and wife, Naz grabs a hold of me, yanking me toward him, and kisses me deeply, nipping at my bottom lip. I pull away, blushing, as Naz starts to tug me toward the exit of the chapel.

"Come on," he says. "We have a marriage to consummate."

"Is that right?"

"Absolutely," he says, his voice low, gritty. "I think I'm going to fuck you outside the Bellagio, in front of the fountain, somewhere where the whole world can see."

it's not the darkness that's terrifying, it's what you might find in it.

I