My Anathema

                I wasn’t all that surprised when he bowed to my demands; after all the years of interacting me, he was still surprisingly naïve—he truly believed that I would keep my word on all counts, despite the countless times I had demonstrated otherwise. He had stridden up to the door of my fortress, banging on the wood paneling. It, of course, dented—that was rather regrettable.

                I pulled the doors open with verve, anxious to see my beloved doll once again. It had certainly been a while—the last time really didn’t count, seeing as all I had done was to steal my soul back from him. So, that would mean… I hadn’t seen him properly in nineteen years… of course, he had been dead for fifteen of those years, but still…

                My mouth almost fell open in shock. Death had been very kind to him… a good thing for me, yes? His blonde locks blew in the slight breeze, unfathomable sapphire eyes fixated on my chin. He didn’t dare look me in the eyes—I had him trained too well for that, but I suddenly wished he would. Sometimes he was a little too submissive… but que sera sera, as they say. He was still as thin as ever, lanky form hidden behind baggy clothes. Well, we would certainly have to get that fixed.

                “I’m here to negotiate your…ah…terms,” came the soft, musical voice, shaking me from my stupor that had consisted of gaping openly at the man.

                “Of course,” I replied silkily, stepping away from the door so he could follow me. He shut the door behind him, trailing me as I traipsed my way down the halls. Sentries stared at him as we passed, wondering at his effeminate beauty; I winked at all of them, smirking. I was oh-so-lucky compared to my lackeys who, along with having to deal with my ever-occurring violent mood swings, also did not have such a prize as I did!

                Before too long, we had reached a sort of den. The plush furniture beckoned to me; I hopped onto the couch, gesturing to the cushion beside me. He glanced around uncertainly, only sitting as far away from me on the couch because of his good breeding—otherwise, he probably would have settled for the farthest chair away from me. Sad, yes, but it was entirely my fault. Oh, well.

                A servant walked in, bringing a tray with a teapot, china cups, and biscuits on it. I took the tray from him, quickly excusing him; the way he was looking at my doll wouldn’t have been tolerated for long, and I had no intention of scaring the poor boy more than I had to.

                I then gestured to the tray, catching the eye of my doll. He looked scared, having made eye contact with me (a big no-no), and quickly stared at the floor, bracing himself. He flinched when I rested my hand on his shoulder.

                “It’s fine, I’m sure you didn’t mean to,” I said, patting his shoulder lightly and giving him a small smile. “Now pour us some tea, if you please.”

                At this, he relaxed a little, reaching out for the teapot. I watched him intently as he poured the steaming liquid into our matching cups, long sleeves slipping over his hands in a cute manner. He passed me my cup, our hands brushing. I felt as he tried to stop himself from flinching away at my touch… such a delicate flower, and so eternally afraid… He was like a bleeding angel; it was almost sad, really…

                He sipped at his tea delicately, lithe form pressed against the far end of the couch. I could tell that he wasn’t too keen on starting a conversation—if left to his own devices, he would drain his teacup, and afterward, sit there shaking. I sighed; he certainly was difficult, but it was worth it.

                “Do you like the tea?”

                “It’s nice,” he replied quietly, obviously only to humor me.

                We were getting nowhere with this, I could tell. I placed my teacup on the table with a thump, stretching out on the couch, my head landing conveniently in his lap. I raised my arms up, slender fingertips cupping his chin, pulling his face down to look at me.

                “Please don’t do that,” he pleaded, shutting his beautiful blue eyes in pain.

                “You shouldn’t be so terrified—I’m not going to hurt you,” I reassured, rubbing along the silken skin of his cheek with my thumb. He shivered under my touch, obviously wanting nothing more than to be left alone. His hands clutching his teacup were turning ashen, knuckles white.

                I raised my hand higher, ghosting across the scar under his left eye. He gasped, eyes shooting open, before whimpering and struggling to get away. I was slightly shocked by his behavior. Usually, he was completely subservient, letting me do as I wished. But with only one touch of his scar…

                Ah. That must be it… because truth be told, I wasn’t the one to get to him first, when I met him at the tender age of fifteen. No, someone had already claimed him, in fact, long before I had even known of the boy’s existence. The man no longer remembered, of course—he had blocked it out, the only reminder being the thin scar marring his otherwise perfect porcelain skin.

                I pulled back, giving him a little space. Tears were shining in his eyes, dripping down his cheeks and brushing his lips. He sniffed, huddling into the cushions of the couch. It was pitiful, really…

                “Does it really hurt you that much?” I asked quietly, peering at him. He nodded. “You don’t even remember, and still you’re suffering so much for it.” I frowned, wondering where the logic was in the situation. It didn’t make sense at all to me, that such an angel should suffer so—and especially when I wasn’t the one causing it. I was the only one deserving of tainting this little one.

                I reached out, curling my arms around the slender body, pulling it close to me. He started in shock, back pressing into my stomach. He seemed even more delectable than normal then, pressed against me, burnished gold hair sliding across my nose, giving me the opportunity to greedily suck in the pleasant scent. But, just this once, I would restrain myself. I would give him comfort… or as much comfort as he would allow himself to feel in my arms.

                “W-why?” he choked out. “Why this…? W-why…?” He erupted into sobs again, head dropping to meet his chest, crystal tears slipping down the front of his shirt.

                “It will all be O.K.,” I murmured, rubbing circles into his back.

                “Don’t lie to me,” he hissed, with more bravery and conviction than I had heard in his voice for a long time. “It can never be all right—as long as I’m plagued by these memories… whenever I let my guard down, they just come flooding in, the fragments swirling together in my mind… it’s hard to make sense of them, but I remember the worst vividly… I remember… how I got this scar,” he whispered, brushing aforementioned blemish lightly, as if afraid something bad would happen.

                “Shush, little one,” I said lightly. “You should rest; maybe you’ll feel better in the morning.”

                “I won’t,” he said shakily, but I knew he spoke the truth.

                “Don’t argue with me,” he started at the warning tone in my voice. “Now try and sleep.”

                “With you all over me? I think not.”

                “Try your hardest, then. Because I’m not letting you go,” as proof of this, I tightened my hold, palms pressing into his stomach.

                He whimpered, but after realizing that any and all protests were futile, settled and was still for quite some time. I peered down at his sleeping face, so shockingly beautiful, for once not marred by the mask he usually kept. Of course, I had seen it slip, but for once, he seemed at peace with himself.

                I pressed a kiss to the top of his head, shifting to make myself comfortable. He stirred, but didn’t wake. I realized that I was being awfully lenient today, but passed it off; there was always tomorrow.

                I curled into the couch, drifting into unconsciousness, and dreamt of the next day. A day that I would spend with my anathema…