Links - Political Rants - Philosophy - Music - Quotes - Movies - Random - Worst of the Web - Guest Writings - Ratings

In the Room Behind a Bookcase

By Kati Frazier

Wisk me away my lover

And hole me against the moon

And each aching breath

And blade against my throat

A sweet momento of you

I think it was his eyes that dazzled me the most, so stern and protective. How he came in the middle fo the night. I lay in bed, so alone, and he came in through my window, nearly silent. His large worn hands covered my mouth as I tried to scream.

I was so naive then. I was afraid. I realize now that we do not need words. That was the beginning, the first thing his love taught me: Words were unimportant. A lesson I am still learning. His hands could not hold my mouth forever, so now a bandana covers my lips. I think I am learning, I want to learn so badly.

I feared his hands at first. The way they slipped under the sheets of my bed. He lifted me out and wisked me off into the night, bound and gagged.

I was so afraid. I didn't understand then. Now I do. Then I did not know how blind I was, now I do.

He loved me enough to take me away form my old false loves, to enlighten me.

He loves me.

He had been reaching me in my dim life, my mock happiness. I thank him each day, wordlessly, for taking me, in so many ways.

I was so afraid then. I lay in the darkness of his trunk, on that bumpy road and when we stopped, so did my heart.

His rough hands, hands of a man, took me out and into his home and his heart. He tied me with rough ropes to a bed and moved my gag only to pour water down my throat.

I understand now, that this is where I belong. I love him. He saved me, and these ropes protect me.

There was a camera in the room. He would record me as he playfully cut my legs, my arms. Holding his knife against my neck. That cold steel teaching me to live without fear. That even though I am flesh, I need not feel pain when that flesh is opened.

When he touched me I cried. In my ignorance I could not comprehend. Nightly he came to me under the chilled blankets, pressing his lips against my gagged mouth. He took me. I would cry and bleed and scream at first. I tried to break the ropes, how silly of me. For now I beg him with the words I cannot say to take me, to remind me that I am not my own. I cannot survive when empty of him.

I take in every part of him. The touch of his skin, the scent of his breath and his sweat, the taste of him.

I ache for him. I need him to come and fill me, to make me whole.

He had taken to making promises to me. Promises I still beleive. My love would never dream of lying to me. He has brought me only truth, so much truth.

"They can never take you from me. You are mine and they cannot have you. Mine and mine alone."

In the past month he has said such things often. The camera is no longer in our room. His face has been drawn and worried. He must sense my doubt and worry. I should not doubt him. It is my greatest transgression. I am still learning to speak without words, but it is hard.

How does one beg for forgiveness with no sound?

I would ask my love to teach me, but I cannot ask without words.

I have so much still to learn. So many things he must teach me and show me. I am so stupid, so dull. how dare I sin against him! Where did I find the gall to wrong him before I knew how to make things right?

Perhaps I cannot learn how.

In the past month he has become rushed and his eyes wide. Sweat rails down his back and his face. I tried so hard to calm him. But my sin had already been commited. I doubted my love and now I have a penance.

I will pay. He is testing me, I know. But only he knows the true extent of my punishment, and not knowing makes it all the more trying for me.

So I shall wait for him.

Being without him is the worst punishment man could devise. I cannot hear his footsteps, the most belssed sound. His bittersweet breath can no longer scathe me. I ache for the sound of him. I ache without the taste of him. I am left a barren wasteland, without him to complete me, to fit within me.

I can survive this.

I know that I can.

Though I ache wihtout my love, I know he will return. He left so loudly, with screams and panic throughout the house. Voices unkown to me, voices that are unneeded. Now there is an overhwelming silence. In my hidden room, my sanctuary, the silence is cracking my bones and drying my ears. I crack and ache, I am brittle. He no longer pours water down my throat.

I can survive because I know he will return.

No one could keep my love from me, could they?

Back Home!