There are those who would be surprised that I have a favourite, but what the hell do they know? Fawning idiots and scheming mongrels, scurrying around like witless rodents--I have no time for them. My work sets me apart from them (thank goodness), and the Bosatsu sees to it that it never ceases (damn hag).
My afternoon walk is my only luxury, and I take it in spite of the endless flow of documents through my door. This time is for me only, and many a walk takes me to this place where water dances; modest and shy, hiding behind its veil of misty droplets.
It's inherenly messy, but in an oddly pleasing manner. Perhaps it's the clear transparency of the ever-moving liquid that soothes me? (It's clean.) In all honesty I don't bother analysing it--it is what it is, and I like it this way.
-footsteps-
Shit.
What's he doing here? How the hell did he...?
Shit. The damn pervert's been stalking me.
And of course he's seen me. Figures, doesn't it? I'm doomed to not get a moment's fucking peace, and that one's just another tormentor. If I keep telling myself that often enough, it might even become true.
Now he's slinking over here. No mater how I try to ignore him, he just keeps on coming, keeps on pushing, keeps on gawking at me with those damn freak eyes of his. Begging, pleading, demanding, never stopping, always pressing on, touching, touching his hands all over me. Stroking, stoking...
No no no. I'm not going to waste my time thinking about that. Just get up and walk away. I have work to do, and every time I go for a walk, my desk fills up with more of their tedious papers and stupid reports. Can't dally here all day.
(He's following me.)
Shut the fuck up. Don't talk to me, I have nothing to say to you!
Just go away.
Let go of my arm.
Let. Me. Go.
Oh, why why do you keep on yammering about purification? I can't help you, you idiot! I'm not your light or your sun or your steam chamber or ... or... (Oh no.) Please take your hands off me, you're burning my skin. Hurting me.
(How can someone so wrong be so warm?)
Stop. I don't care who or what you are, just let me the fuck go!
...oh, for the love of the Buddhas, I CAN'T HELP YOU! Are you deaf as well as stupmmmph?
(Alive. He burns with it. So hot.)
I'm suffocating. Can't breathe, can't think. His arms around me too hard (hold me tighter), his lips crushing mine (devour me), his fingers in my hair (pull me closer), his hand roaming down down down my back (don't let go), the chain dangles heavy caresses down my spine and I can't escape (do I want to?).
Where would I escape to anyway? I won't ever stoop to running, and this wild fire would burn me even if I did.
Stop.
Please ... stop ... Make it stop, I can't take this anymore.
Winding up tighter and tighter, like a spring coiled to the point of bursting and I don't know how to fight this. Noone ever taught me how. How did I ... (Aaahno please no ... don't ...)
How can he black-out my vision like that? How dare he touch me like that? Again and again and again. When did ... oh no, my clothes must be ruined, and ... (Aaahhhh. Please! NO!)
Why are you taking me into the waters?
Oh.
But you're still burning me. I'm still on fire.
He's reducing me to this pitiful state. All I can sense is him all over me and that golden glow searing inside me, pooling up in my middle and building at his whim, the bastard. And I can't stop him, because he's not listening ... to ... me ...
(...his hand on my...agh...how...WHY, damn it?)
My lungs are too tight, he's burning me up. Even the waterfall can't cool me down and now he lifts me up and all I can do is hang on to him because I can't fall, won't fall and I'm burning burning burning how he burns me, oh gods here comes the pain (ah...anhh...aaah...no...ANHH!).
His heat isn't like mine and he pushes it in as I hold on for dear life, and it splits me open and fills me up, oh please, please, don't drop me. This isn't right (he'll never drop me, never let me fall), this is sin and I don't care anymore as long as he plunges inside, briging me pain and winding me up tighter.
(Is that my voice crying out with no words?)
Now that coil in my belly glows white-hot and he moves harder and harder, heating it beyond tolerance with every ... vicious ... thrust. It's a miracle we don't fall over; my fingers dig into his shoulders and his arms encircle me and draw me in to get my mouth smothered against his.
Too much. This is too much. He takes me with his tongue and he takes me with his ... other thing and he brings me to the edge of the world, where I can't see anymore and now his plea vibrates on my lips, and his demand roar up my insides. Anh...annhh...aaaah... (too...much!) Keep pushing, keep taking, don't let me fall, how dare you touch me (...ahhh...anhhh....ohplease don't let me fall into your abyss... oh, oooh, OOOH!)
(This is just too much and I'm bursting, falling like a star and all I see is noth--AAAAAAAAH AH AAH AAH UNHHHhhhh...)
(...nothing...)
....
I still don't understand what he wants from me. He lets me gently down after the great, searing emptiness passed through me and now we stand on trembling legs in the water. For a moment I hide my face from the world, I can taste his sweat if I want to. But why would I? It's filthy.
I hurt inside, just like those other times when he's captured me, and I just don't get it. What is it he's after? If it was just my body, he wouldn't be doing what he does now; lift my chin with a finger and look into my eyes with that strange, lost expression in his. Like he's disappointed or something. And for what?
Stop fighting my destiny? Let the light burst free to bathe away imperfection and guilt? What the hell are you talking ab...
Get your stinking mouth off me.
He leads me into the waterfall and that at least is good. The water washes away the sweat and the filth and the blood from my body, leaving only that burning sensation behind my abdomen and the stinging below my spine.
When I walk away from the falling waters, he turns his face up to let it wash over him. Even after I'm done dressing (my clothes are all whole, thank goodness), he still stands there; dressed only in shackles and water.
As I am about to walk away, he turns his head to look at me. His lips form my name in a silent plea, and I turn my back and leave.