Heart Strings Ch. 03

Naked, reeking of urine with my clothes a sodden pile in front of me, I thought I had reached rock bottom.

"Do you see, Maureen, mere physical pain is good but how much more delicious is despair and humiliation. The pain in the soul is so much sweeter than the pain in the body. Now, what do you want to do next? Shall we have a little show, like the one she put on for little Sandra?"

Quite how much of what happened next was Maureen's idea and quite how much was Mrs Bates' I'll never know. What I do know is that I was forced the pick up the knife and, turning to face the two of them, I started to use the handle as a dildo. In an obscene parody of the show I had put on for Sandra, I sucked on the handle before pushing it inside me and working it back and forth.

"You can do better than that," Mrs Bates urged, "or shall I get Maureen to make you turn the knife around?"

Horrified at the thought of what she was suggesting, and knowing that it was no idle threat, I did my best to put on a show. With one hand I worked the handle of the knife, with the other I played with my breasts and, all the while, I tried to writhe and moan as if this were the greatest turn-on ever. However, this wasn't enough for Maureen and she flicked at the marionette so that I pulled the knife from my groin and stabbed wildly at my breasts. The cuts weren't deep, Mrs Bates didn't want me to die too quickly, but the blood was flowing freely by the time I pushed the handle of the knife back inside me. Again and again this pattern was repeated, sometimes with my breasts, sometimes my arms, sometimes my thighs, sometimes my belly, until I was a mess of cuts and abrasions.

But the worst, the very worst, was that, somehow, I was being forced to get off on this. Whilst I can conceive of nothing sexy or erotic about what I was doing some external force, I guess from Mrs Bates, was making me want it more and more until, plunging the handle of the knife deep within me one more time, I rolled onto my side and came and came and came. Sobbing with loathing and disgust at the way my body had betrayed me, I hated what I was, I hated what I had become. Part of me was praying for this to end. It wouldn't have taken much guidance for me to plunge the knife into my chest simply to end it all. Of course, Mrs Bates wasn't going to let me off that easily.

"Now, dear," Mrs Bates turned to Maureen, "she's broken now. Hurt her, hurt her bad!"

Immediately my body was flung sideways and I was rolled over onto my back. I was staring up at Maureen who stood over me holding the marionette. She took one of the legs and started to bend it. My left calf erupted in pain and I screamed out in agony only to have my lips sealed. Leaving my leg she moved on to flick at the stomach of the marionette and it felt like being kicked by a mule. Picking limbs at random she bent and twisted my body in ways it was never meant to go. I was no longer aware of anything except the endless excruciating pain and my soundless screams as I could do nothing to stop her. At one point she twisted my leg so far there was a pop from my hip and the pain became stratospheric.

Finally, with every part of my body bruised beyond recognition, and, at a guess, with my right hip dislocated, Maureen had had enough. I glanced across at Mrs Bates who was, quite literally, drooling. Her eyes glowed red and there was no more pretence that this was human, let alone some little old lady. This was evil, pure, unadulterated evil.

"And now she dies," Mrs Bates snarled. "Do it, Maureen, just like I showed you."

My hands came up and linked around my throat. Slowly but surely they tightened. My fingers pressed in, closing my windpipe, blocking off my ability to breathe. I was strangling myself. Furiously I fought against it but my arms were no longer under my control and I could feel myself getting dizzy. Surely if I were to pass out my hands would relax, but, from Mrs Bates' certainty, it would seem that this would not be the case. I turned to look at her, I had no choice, and, as she returned my stare, I could see her drinking in every nuance of my fading life. A broad smile crossed her face. Her hand had reached under her skirts and she was playing with herself As I was dying she was coming!

'No!' the mental cry stopped everything dead. Mrs Bates and Maureen had been so preoccupied with me that they had forgotten all about Sandra. She had picked up the discarded knife and struggled to her feet and was now staggering towards Mrs Bates.

"What makes you think you can beat me?" Mrs Bates flicked her fingers at Sandra who fell back to her knees. "I forbid you to move, we'll deal with you later."

To everybody's amazement Sandra managed to climb back to her feet.

'I... will... not... let... you...!' Sandra's thoughts were as clear as the iron will of the determination behind them. 'I love her and I will not allow it.'

Despite my dizziness, despite the fact that I was close to passing out, I hung on as I watched Sandra overcome whatever unseen force it was that was holding her back. I could tell that it took all her strength and, more relevantly, all her will power to but something inside her shone like a beacon. She was magnificent. Step by step she forced her self towards Mrs Bates, her sinews standing out like steel hawsers as she fought against the power that held her. Suddenly, it was as if she wasn't held anymore. She fell forward, plunging the knife into Mrs Bates' breast. Again and again, like an avenging angel, she stabbed and stabbed. The room was filled with a high keening sound until...

Until it stopped. The force that had filled the room simply disappeared. Sandra, exhausted, collapsed to the ground and I, free of any constraints and control was able let go of my throat and breathe again. In the armchair there was no blood. Mrs Bates' body just seemed to crumble, to shrink away, to collapse and with the faintest echo of a scream, all that was left was a pile of rags.

Maureen, her mouth wide open, backed away until she reached the wall where she slid to the floor and curled up in a little ball. She stuffed her fist in her mouth; her eyes were full of fear and the only sounds she made was a whimper. It would seem that, without Mrs Bates, there wasn't enough of Maureen left to function.

I looked at Sandra. There was no link, no connection. We were just two women, broken, battered, bleeding but alive!

"That was... that was..." I croaked but I couldn't find any words to say so I compromised with a heartfelt "Thank you."

"I couldn't let her kill you."

"Thank you," I repeated, "I don't know what else to say. Your arm, your poor arm. We need to get you to a hospital."

"I'm not the only one who needs treatment. All those cuts and your hip... I'll call an ambulance," and, practical as ever, Sandra went to the phone to do so.

The ambulance brought with them the police who brought with them a million questions, none of them easy. We had a brief respite while we were undergoing treatment, but the police weren't going to go away without getting some answers. While waiting for the ambulance to arrive Sandra had hidden Mrs Bates' clothes and we had agreed on a story that Maureen, a madwoman, had broken in and attacked the two of us. The police found this hard to believe until they broke into Maureen's flat where the discovered some sort of shrine; a room full of pictures of me each of which had been smeared with blood. Then it became easiest for everyone to write the whole thing off as the ravings of a madwoman whose dementia had given her strength to overpower the two of us before collapsing, both mentally and physically. To this day, the shell that once was Maureen is housed in a special unit and she has never since uttered a meaningful word. Sandra and I were advised that visiting would not be helpful, not that we want to.

After reseating my hip and sewing up the cuts that covered me, the hospital insisted on giving me a thorough once over. Apparently, apart from the hip, I had ended up with a cracked rib and quite extensive interior bruising but, with some bed rest, I would be fine. Sandra was far worse than me, starting with her broken arm, and they insisted on an overnight stay. It was gone midnight and visiting hours were far from over but I wasn't going to just leave her there and, against all the rules, I found the ward she was on. I waited until the ward nurse went for a cup of tea, snuck past her and knelt down beside Sandra's bed, keeping my head down so as not to be spotted when the ward nurse returned.

"Sandra, are you awake?" I whispered.

She rolled over and smiled at me. Even then I sensed something. I held out my hand and hers came out from under the covers and grasped it. Now there was no mistake.

'Do you feel it too?' I thought but didn't say.

'Yes, yes!' Sandra replied in the same way.

'I thought that when Mrs Bates died....'

'So did I. Oh, Julie, I'm so, so sorry.'

'Sorry?'

'If I hadn't... if I hadn't got you involved in all this... I'm so, so, sorry. You've lost your job, your reputation, your friends and all because of me. I never meant....'

I could feel her sorrow, her deep remorse and, above all, a regret that now, I would never want to know her.

'Sandra, you're wrong, it wasn't you that did this, it was Mrs Bates aided by that bitch Maureen and they're both gone. I owe you my life. She really was going to kill me. She nearly did. If you hadn't... if you hadn't...' I couldn't continue. The memory was too overwhelming. I had come so close to choking to death and even now my throat was sore. It was a good thing that we could 'talk' without speaking.

'Sandra,' I continued, 'what are we going to do?'

'What do you mean?'

'About this. About the way we can... talk to each other. Mrs Bates is dead, Maureen won't be bothering us again but we've still got this, whatever it is.'

And I knew, right then, what Sandra wanted. She couldn't put it into words, she was scared to even think it, let alone say it, but a love that could overcome Mrs Bates was never going to lie hidden.

'I'm straight, Sandra, really I am.'

'I know.'

But we both were thinking the same thing. Straight or not, I had never felt so close to a human being as I had done to Sandra. Whatever this bond was, it didn't seem to be going away and, after all, the sex was fantastic. Maybe it was because of the link but who cares, even now, battered and bruised, I wanted to kiss her.

'So why don't you?' Sandra asked.

'You're very bold, madam,' I laughed back at her.

But it didn't stop me. I leant over the bed and we kissed.

'Can you still control me?' I asked, our lips still locked together. I felt her urge my left arm to rise but it was a thought, not a command.

'I can live with this,' I thought, 'because I certainly can't live without it.'

'I love you,' Sandra's soul sang.

'Give me time, give me time.' But we both knew that my last shreds of reluctance were evaporating fast.

Of course, it wasn't all easy. We both had to find new jobs and live down the scandal from the office. My mother still hasn't completely forgiven me, especially after Dad, mysteriously, didn't make Captain at the golf club. It did become a little easier when some of the details came out and she could write it all of as the fault of 'that mad girl, Maureen' but Sandra still isn't welcome at her house. And yeah, I still hanker, now and then, after a man with a six-pack and a nice thick prick but, the one time I nearly did stray, as soon as I kissed him, I knew it would never be as good, there would never be the connection. And, when I went back to Sandra afterwards, she knew, of course, what I had done and all she said was 'welcome home, lover'.

And, ten years later, the spell still hasn't broken. In fact it's stronger than ever.