Pitch Black

I hardly saw Xavier-or rather-Christopher, now that he was beginning his new string of praying. He would make sure that at 1:00 am he would get up, go to the small shrine he had begun to build in the very large sitting room, and pray. There was a table set with a large portrait of Jesus, draped with a transparent white shawl, and surrounding it were white candles. As he prayed, reluctantly, I would cut at his back with a knife to reduce the glowing. The tattoo was shaped, oddly enough, so that when I cut it, the scars would form along the hands and the flames, making it resemble an angel of sorts. Despite how horrid his back looked, the glowing never really ceased, and how often he pricked his palms so that they would bleed, his head continued to be bowed in prayer as if I hadn't even touched him. I didn't disturb him during the morning by reading, going to town, drawing, or praying with him, and I was very happy when he finished his praying and we had time to spend together. Every Sunday, as part of his praying, we would both go to the small church nearby the mansion. He had even replaced the gold chain around his neck with a golden cross. He was coming along very well.

I wrote to Brandon as often as I could. He said that he was going through physical therapy, but said that unfortunately he wouldn't be fully recovered for about a year, and would even still have to take pain medication. Christopher blamed himself for this, and said that Brandon was strong in his thoughts, though Brandon didn't forgive him.

Although being in the same house with Chris for most of my time was rewarding and enchanting in it's own way, I began to get somewhat bored and depressed. Because of his praying, I never got to see him, or go out with him anywhere, and with just us in the house, I had nothing to do. I wasn't saying I was bored of him, just the lack of activity and the same routine to go through over and over. I began to crave excitement. I didn't tell Chris about this though, because this would surely upset him.

I also began to realize, as time went on, I had hardly noticed that I was truly discovering manhood, not recognizing myself from the teenager full of hatred of his school and bitter upon the arrival of Xavier Belial. I began to get more territorial and protective, a person in charge. Christopher and I were both changing in ways that made us think of our former selves in Huntington's as people we didn't even know.

We spent about a month living in Lovette Manor. By the time my eighteenth birthday rolled around, I had gotten a job nearby at a very expensive restaurant, Jean Klain's. It wasn't my ideal job, but it payed well, 30$ an hour, just for hosting and seating, for seven hours a day from Monday to Wednesday. I started my shifts at 3 in the evening and ended at ten, killing my time with Chris, but it was worth it to be able to have food on the table.

One evening at Jean Klaine's, I was taking a break. I went outside in the warm summer night, feeling very hot and uncomfortable in the uniform I was wearing. It was better than he inside of the restaurant though; it was a very harried full-house. I took a cigarette from my pocket and lit it, watching my stress drift away in white smoke clouds up at the sky. Christopher hated my smoking habit that I had recently taken up because of stressing over his pain, and I truly promised to him I would quit, but when, I wasn't sure.

As I took a pull from the cigarette again, I noticed a woman, by herself, approaching the restaurant. She was very good-looking, in her early twenties, and was wearing a very form-fitting black and glittering dress, with a scarf wrapped neatly around her neck and shoulders. She wore matching gloves that rose to her elbow. She had many shiny, curly, blonde tresses that fell down her back, and she smiled at me with full, red lips and batted dark eyelashes at me. The way she walked was accented in the tall black high heels she was wearing.

"Is there room for one more this evening, monsieur?" She said with a slight French accent.

"You'll have to go in and see," I replied in a slightly stony voice. "I'm on break."

"You would not want to seat me, monsieur?" She said, feigning sadness. "Have a heart, will you not?"

"I would if I wasn't on break, ma'am." I said in a respectful tone. "But I must do my job."

"Come now," she smiled and put her hands on my chest, and bringing her body closer to mine. "I have come quite a long way to treat myself, you are just going to let me suffer? And I thought Britain had good... service." Her face was close to mine, and her breath was sweet. I looked into her eyes, which were the deepest color blue I had ever seen. I lowered my cigarette, and a small smile tugged at my lips.

"Certainly." I said. "But there's a bit of a wait..."

"I have all the time in the world, monsieur." She smiled, and withdrew from me a little to raise her hand. A large, shiny ring glistened on her middle finger. "Madame Mimi Diable. Enchante."

I took her hand in mine and kissed it. "Jack Winstead. The pleasure is all mine."

She giggled softly. "Well, Monsieur Winstead, I don't suppose that after your job is done you could assist me back to my house?"

I opened my mouth to say yes, but remembering Christopher, I shut it. "Madame, I'm taken."

She didn't seem to be phased by this. "Well, surely she has not given you what I can give you if you come with me, yes?" She began to trace her finger down my torso. "I can give you a most pleasing night, Monsieur. Such a handsome man deserves every offering a French girl can give him."

I bit my lip. Truthfully, I wanted to see what this experience was like. I had never been with a woman, not even Lynn, who I never got too far with. Christopher was the only person I had ever slept with, and I wanted to keep it that way. But, in times like this, I wanted excitement, and a new experience with a very attractive woman seemed like just the thing I was craving.

"My shift ends in about an hour." I whispered into her ear. I felt her tense next to me. "I'll make sure you get the proper service at your house."

"Monsieur!" She said in an excited tone. I smiled, and dropped my cigarette to the ground, stamping it out. I offered my arm to her and led her inside to seat her.

Throughout the rest of my shift Mimi and I stole secret glances at each other. Her jewelry and dress glistened in the light of the chandelier inside of the restaurant, making her look even more brilliant and dazzling as she ate her food daintily. I could hardly wait until my shift was over, and when it was, I waited for Mimi outside.

She stepped out, still looking flawless. "Ready to go, mon cher?" Mimi asked in that sweet and tantalizing voice. I offered my arm to her, and escorted her to my car. She gave me directions while I drove, and we soon came to a rather large, one-story house. I took her to the front door and she opened it. I barely had time to observe the living room before, smiling, she pulled me into another room and began to shed off my outer uniform shirt.

"Tell me, monsieur..." Mimi said as she succeeded in removing both shirts and pushing me onto her bed. "Have you ever been with a French woman?"

"Could a French woman handle being with a British man?" I asked, smiling. She chuckled and unwinded the scarf from her neck, and straddled me on the bed. She ran her hands over my chest until they came to my trousers, and began to unbutton them. When she succeeded, she began to kiss my chest, all the way up to my neck, and to my lips. She was rubbing against me in such a way that I quickly took off my trousers and switched positions with her so that I was upon her, kissing her rapidly. Our tongues explored each other's mouths, her fingers were running and gripping through my hair, and her was chest rising and falling as I slipped off her underwear. She bit my lip with surprisingly sharp teeth, and my lip yielded a trickle of blood that she caught with her tongue.

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I woke the next morning in Mimi's bed, completely bare accept for wearing my underwear. I was covered in the blanket, and I shifted my arm to get lose.

But my arm wouldn't budge.

I began to struggle violently, but it felt like there was a rope binding me. I heard movement from outside the room, and the door opened. Mimi came in, smiling something sinister. She walked over to me and threw off the blanket that was over me. I was bound tightly in black rope.

"Now that we've had our little night of fun," Mimi said, putting a gun to my head. "You will tell me where Xavier Belial is, Monsieur Winstead."