One in a Million: Schrödinger’s Doll

– Not suitable for children under 18 –

The numbness waned gradually, still clinging to my skin here and there, partially paralyzing me but inviting the cold air to greet me mercilessly. The sour taste in my mouth made me gag involuntarily, a nauseating sensation rising in my stomach as I tasted bile on the roof of my mouth. Had I thrown up? My eyelids were leaden, my muscles tensed in a way I did not entirely fathom just yet, seeing that the numbness still held its sway. I was coming to, but my senses lured me into a trap of delicious beliefs that I had just fallen asleep on the steps leading to my front door. The air wrapping me up sure seemed like that of a chilly night.

But it was not so. Terribly not so.

I tried to move but it appeared that my arms were in some way blocking any further movements. My head, spinning with dizziness strained to lift itself, and only as I did I felt the horrific shock settling inside of me. My arms were tied up; as a matter of fact my entire body weight was held by my sore wrists. I guessed they were sore, I could not feel them at the moment, and judging from my present state of being, I wouldn’t be able to do so either in the future. I couldn’t detect the quality of material though. It was sleek but whether it was rope or chain, I had no clue. All I knew was that I was hanging in my own wrists and the parched sensation in my mouth originated from an incredible thirst mixed with whatever stomach contents I had had to let go of earlier when I was still not conscious.

I was now, however, and I began speculating what had brought me into this very position when a bright light made my eyelids flutter. It burned and I shut them tighter, not really straining this seeing that they were already as good as closed. The light followed the click of a switch. It was not a small switch, judging from the thud against the plastic in which it was set. It was one of the larger switches, an industrial switch perhaps, which led me to another question of where the hell I was.

Over the stench of vomit, my nostrils detected a mouldy, wet smell, and my ears caught the sound of water dripping down on stone in one place, and another place into some sort of steel tray, sink or whatever it could be. The coldness could for all I know be due to an open space, but the lack of natural sounds suggested that I was stuck in a basement. My heart dropped to my knees when I heard the footsteps approach. How come I did not hear them before? Had there been someone in here, watching me as I had been unconscious and only now as I’d begun stirring, signaled his presence?

The answers to the questions held back from a moment of realization, and for a while all I felt were shivers down my spine with the thoughts of where I was, what had happened and what was going to happen to me.

She hung there, such a sweetness, a blessing from the world to the world itself. Her flaxen hair cupped her cheekbones and swayed but a little against her shoulders. The position in which I had suspended her showed off the muscles perfectly, running along the thin, bruised limbs with the skin grey from the cold. Only thin wisps of breath escaped her dry lips. I had cleaned her up as well as I could when the poison had begun its ascend into her veins.

She had been one of the easy ones. A proud woman walking home alone from a party; her self-image of strength and preparedness against any assault had not stood up to her expectations, and by the curb of her darkened home, I had waited, quietly, lurking in the shadows with the van parked down the road. The street lamp had caught the sparkling tip of the syringe as I had plucked it into her neck, silencing her with one hand over her mouth where the scream was caught in a gasp instead of audible sound. The heavy body had been easy to lay to rest in the shadows of the magnolia as I had gone to fetch the car and loaded her into the trunk and taken of.

My basement was the only security I had for fun in silent surroundings. The walls I had sound-proofed, the ceiling secured with rafters and the plumbing was finally working although the water was only cold. I needed no heat down here. This was a natural environment for me, and how I struggled not to laugh as I now approached her with a cloth in my hand to rinse the last traces of bile from her chin and chest. She was spindle this one, like a spider, and as I lifted her face I realized why I had stalked her now for so long. I saw the potential that had dawned upon me the first time I had seen her in the cafeteria, serving coffee and taking orders. A well-mannered girl. She’d soon learn her place. Illuminated by the light bulb swinging in its lonesome cord, I marveled at the princess from my dreams of late.

“Good morning, lady Patricia,” I said, rubbing the cloth against her dry lips to give them just the slightest hint of moisture while removing the yellow trails spattered on her pretty skin. “Slept well, I suppose?”

The cold was indescribable as he touched my face. It went right through me, a prickling sensation to my numb skin, but I sure felt it. Cold like the hands of a man who sits by a desk all day and comes home to watch tv all night. A dead cold, an icy cold. The cloth was harsh against my skin but I welcomed it gratefully although I had no intentions of giving this man whatever he wanted of me. Unfortunately I had the feeling that I would end up having to agree with his demands no matter how much I wouldn’t. I was in no position to bargain, he probably had me where he wanted, and there was nothing I could do about it. A tear trickled down my cheek as I shuddered and tried to shy away from his touch, but his firm grasp was demanding like that of a king forcing his mistress to obey his every need.

“I-I’m cold,” I stammered and tried to pry open my eyes. The world was a haze and I felt dizzy just looking at him. The light burned my eyes and threatened to make me vomit again. But I could see his shape in front of me, tall and dark. I imagined he was handsome, I couldn’t tell, but as long as I imagined it, I felt just a tiny hint better than previously. And then there was the voice. There was some familiarity to it that I could not place. Was he a friend? An acquaintance? A family member?

“Yes, unfortunately I don’t do well in hot environments,” I replied sadly and drew away the tear on her face, wondering where it came from. “But you’ll get used to it in no time, darling. Trust me.” I smiled reassuringly at her and watched her eyes swim, bloodshot from the intoxicating drugs and the poison which was still searing through her. For just a moment I pondered letting her off. She couldn’t possibly identify me, not when she’d lost her sight already. But I dropped the thought. She had come this far, then the transition would progress as planned.

I tossed a strand of her hair away from her face, enjoying how the light played on her skin. She was cold, goose bumps spread on her quickly. Or maybe it was his touch? How could she not enjoy it, now that she had longed for it, now that he had prepared it all for her ascension to become what he called himself a goddess of power?

“You, my love, are beautiful beyond comprehension,” he whispered in her ear, noticing how his breath almost became a mist on her icy cheek.

“P-p-please, let me go,” I stammered and tried to pull away from his touch. His breath was warm though and it gave me a momentarily soothing feeling to feel something just slightly warmer than the air surrounding me. However as quickly as my skin had heated, just as quickly did it cool down and I shivered once again, trying desperately to find myself and my strength. But there was none. My mind would not make a bargain for me this time, and my eyes hurt more and more as did my very bones. But the touches from his fingers became a reviving sensation in me, like they removed the pain from my body. It was an excruciatingly horrific feeling building up, but I slowly realized that the more I wanted to feel and the less pain I wanted to be in, the more I had to stay within his reach. It was like another mind pressed on mine, beckoning me to do this, to follow the instinct of survival. I would die if I did not comply.

“There, there, Patricia, you don’t know what you’d be missing if I let you off the hook,” I said and slipped my hand down her cheek and to her clavicle, running along the pumping veins; my nails scraped against the skin and the red lines adorned her like ritualistic body paint of the ancient tribes of Mesopotamia. A sign to the gods that the sacrifice was ready to be received by them. “We could have so much fun together. You and I. Like we’ve had in the past.” I let my gaze wander her body, following the curves, the lines, the structure; her very figure intrigued me. Spindle, yet strong, a delight just to look upon her. My hand slid down to her breast, small and firm, just out of the maturing process. I tickled the skin evilly, pinching the nipples just enough to almost feel the pulse in them as blood came rushing forth. The cold had already made them hard but a slight warmth surged through them also. It would not be long, oh no, it surely wouldn’t.

I tried to speak through the shivers of his touches but only a deceitful gasp escaped my lips. It was as if my heart strained to beat faster and I regained some warmth, a delicious warmth that I wished would never stop. It eased the pain and helped my mind regain itself in the blink of an eye. But then the nausea took over again and I had to swallow hard not to vomit once more.

“W-who are you?” I muttered, giving up on the thought of escape. It had already dawned upon me that I wore no clothes, the air enveloped me treacherously, threatening to strangle the blood supply to my limbs, especially my arms and hands on which I had already given up.

“Oh, Patricia, now you embarrass yourself.” I shook my head despondently as I glided my hands over her body with slow graceful movements. “I sure thought you’d remember me. All the time I’ve come into your cafeteria these past weeks, ordering the same thing, smiling back at you as you hand me the cup and the cake.” I leant closer to her face, smelling the cold sweat from her body, like a salty, cold ocean. “And all the while I sat there watching you I just imagined whether the coffee could taste just as good as you, and whether your flesh would have the same soft texture as the muffin.” My fingers circled her buttocks, their silky, firm feel sent thrills through me that even Heaven would be jealous not to invoke in its followers. “And you always smiled back. You always did. You learned to catch my eye, and you saw that gleam, you always did. You always did. You knew my plans. It was a mutual understanding. You said you were ready to go to Heaven and that I should lead you, you always said. Always.”

His voice was rapid as he spoke, perhaps in some sort of fantasy, exploring all the imaginary scenarios of his world wherein I had seemingly been for a while now. My heart sure beat fast now, both from the undeniable but horrible arousal as well as the fear. The fear of what would come next. I had prayed – although I had tried to resign to the option I had learned at conflict management when dealing with an assault or a robbery, to let the criminal have his way without question – that he would not put me through this. The thought had never occurred to me that I would lose my virginity to a psychopathic stranger, but as I hung there, his hands all over me, I knew resistance would be futile. Tears streamed down my cheeks and my parched throat conjured sounds resembling sobs but not quite like them.

“Please, sir, I won’t tell anyone, I swear. I promise,” I begged quietly, hoping my frail voice was audible to him as well as to me. It sounded distorted though, like it was not my own and I swallowed hard again. “Just please let me go.” I raised my head and battled the weight of my eyelids to look at him as directly as I could. My arms shook somewhere above in their bounds, and a dull sound reached me. I was chained up.

But just as futile as it was to resist, just as futile it was to beg. He did not hear me, or he would not hear me, and the fingers’ play caught me off guard, invading my privacy violently. My muscles weren’t  working and I somehow fell into a soft, dreamy haze as a little pinprick against my skin signaled a needle being pressed in. The blackness engulfing my mind was such a sweet relief that I probably released yet another tear before my head dropped heavily against my arm and my eyes closed once again.

As I came to he was upon me and had probably been for a while. The slippery, wet feeling between my legs gave me a good clue to what was happening, and the force with which he thrust into me was like being beaten with a club. My entire body shook and wavered. There was no pain, but neither no pleasure, and as I tried to reach out and sense myself, connect with my limbs, I realized I felt nothing. I had no limbs, or I had, I just couldn’t feel them anymore. I was no longer suspended but lay on a table, no bounds kept me down, but seemingly I lay there of my own free will. It was a bed of sorts, soft and deceitfully comfortable.

I felt like I was trapped in a body which wasn’t mine, and it was being invaded and used for a purpose I neither enjoyed nor felt disgusted by. I looked down myself and saw my body. A transformation had come over it and I wanted to scream but all I could hear were childish moans escaping my throat, delicious wet moans to him, probably, but odd sounds that rang shrilly in my ears, to me. What had happened? What was going on?

His hands steadied my hips as he sped up, his face came down upon me and I closed my eyes as I received his kiss, but it was like there was no kiss to receive at all. The touch was there, certainly, but in a way, it was not done onto me. It was done onto whatever I had become. Whatever I had been transformed into. My fear and my sanity began shaking. I felt like I was covered in plastic, a living doll. As he drew away again I could look at my clothes and I saw the neat ribbons on the little girl’s baby blue dress. I felt like hammering on the inside of the skull, begging to be set free, to be let out, but the words I heard were not quite like that.

“Yes, please! More, I beg you, use me more!”

The thrusts accelerated as did my screaming. I was wild with panic and positively fuming with anger for what fate had had in store for me. I felt everything on my body and yet there was a dimension between me and him, a material, physical aspect which I did no longer belong to. I felt the warm semen spill between my thighs as he came and watched as he climbed off me. Only now did I see the mirror above and see my reflection. What had once been a teenager fighting to get into maturity, had now become an underdeveloped girl with golden hair in pigtails, a porcelain complexion and eyes like a doll.

I felt dead and alive at the same time, and there was no way I could undo it.

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