A Story Inspired By Lyrics

Copyrightedby Seaicilin Moher--November 11, 1999

She turned on her radio and plopped down on her bed. She was tired. Tired of living, tired of breathing, tired of fighting. "God," she murmured. "Why does it have to be me?" Why was she the one to do it? Couldn't things just be the way she always envisioned them? Why was life like it was? Why did her mother sell her to a cruel man like George? Why was she forced to sacrifice her life?

"1..4..2..9..7..8..feels like I'm gonna suffocate..." her radio sang to her.

"Yes," she agreed. "I am going to suffocate. I need to get out of here." She bolted up off of the bed and threw the door open. She froze. What if he sees me? Oh God! What am I going to do? How can I get away from George when he is so much stronger than me? I won't survive if he hurts me again! Panic set in and took a firm hold.

"Hang on..hang on..to your IQ..to your ID..." her radio soothed.

"Yes," she hissed. "Be calm. You'll never get anywhere if you aren't calm. You have to keep things straight." She agreed with the lyrics. If George caught her trying to leave, he'd hurt her again. She didn't want to be strapped into the device that he lovingly called "Lady Rack". She knew that he'd leave her there for hours, letting the blood from the cat-o'-nine tail whip marks seep and pool around her feet. Down the long hallway, a light glowed under George's workshop door. She stood there silently, wondering how she was to get passed the door without alerting him.

"Got a head rush in her pocket..two rubbers..two lubes..and a silver rocket..."

Slowly she slipped her hand into her pocket and drew out a vial of powder.

A memory flashed before her mind's eye. Grace. She had been a pretty girl, and nice too. It was from Grace that she got the vial. Sweet, lovely Grace. Poor Grace. Sometimes she missed her, seeing as how she never saw her anymore. In fact, she mused, she hadn't seen Grace since George found her sneaking out of the house. Grace was a sweet girl from the village, she had tried to convince George, but he had called her a spy and ignored all else. She didn't remember Grace very much, but she remembered the supper after George found her: they had had meat stew. Which was odd, considering George was revolted by meat. He even said a little prayer too: "It is by Grace that we have this meal." She turned to look down at the vial in her hand. What was she to do with it?

"I've got to get high..before I go outside."

"Ahh..." she muttered. "So that's how I'm to do it." She was going to use the powder Grace had given her to get George shattered to the point where he wouldn't realize she was gone. But, she thought, What am I going to do? Walk up to him and say, "Gee, George. Do you think you could take this for me?" She laughed cynically to herself, knowing that was not an option. But what else could she do, other than leaving the entire matter up to Fate?

"I'm lonely..I'm lonely-hee..I'm lonely..ahh..."

She grinned to herself. Yes, she decided giddily, I'll simply fool him, tell him I'm lonely. He'll like hearing that. Perfect. "Do what you have to," her mind dictated. She decided to follow.

"It all breaks down to the role reversal..."

Colours danced before her eyes in a pagan dance that reminded her much of someone she knew, but who? "Wake up, dear girl," a voice murmured sweetly. "You can't out sleep this pain. Did you honestly think that you could usurp my position and reduce me to yours?"

"Greatest lay I ever had..Kinda guy that mates for life..We're a couple..when our bodies double..."

The strains of music echoed through the dark room about her. She tried making out the source in vain, until she realized the reason for her failure: he didn't like radios in his work place. She also realized in that instant that she would never be free of him, never be rid of George. They were binded together just as surely as the sun had set.

"I know..you want the sin without the sinner..I know, I know..."

A scream richoted off the solid stone walls, ringing eerily in her ears, causing her eyes to water. George seemed to like this because he chuckled softly. What does he know about me? she thought desperately. What is this man thinking?! She struggled to let her mind link with George's, wondering why he thought that she wanted sin. Why? Why? Why?!

"Blood..dive in..blood..drowning blood..dive in..."

There was a loud crack in the air, and a searing pain made its way down her front. George had brought out the cat.

"4..7..2..3..9..8..5..I gotta breathe to stay alive..."

She took a couple of deep breaths, preparing herself for the next blow. It came, and the force of it sent her head reeling to her left where it was smacked painfully with by a leather strap. Dear God! her mind screamed. THE RACK! The scream from her mind erupted from her throat.

"Don't forget your fuel injection..he's strutting with your flesh mechanic..."

The vial from Grace appearred before her eyes. "Do you recognize this, sweet girl?" George asked in a delicate voice. "I think you meant me to have it as a gift, no?" He didn't wait for an answer as he began to pull the cork from the mouth of the small container.

"You go 'round smoking..you're gonna get burned..."

George poured the contents of the vial into his hand. The powdery white substance glimmered and shone in the florescent lighting. "Tsk, tsk, Auriel, you should learn by now. Everything has an equal and just reaction." Her mind spun out of control as he smeared the powder into her wounds. Immediately she felt the white-hot pain burn its way to her eyes.

"In this matrix..it's plain to see..."

The florescent lights overhead skipped and sputtered, then finally shut off. Panic once again outweighed the pain as a pair of eyes loomed in front of her. Her body jerked almost instinctively, and the leather strappings held her back. Fear made her senses heighten, and she could smell the leather, hear its minute creaking, and feel her blood coursing swiftly from her body.

"This time he's gonna blow it..cause he's dancing with his ego..."

George chuckled through the pain. "I'll not fail this time, Auriel. I cannot fail. I planned this too carefully, you see." He laughed at her shocked face, laughed and laughed with the glee of a child at Christmas.

"It seemed to last for hours..it seemed to last for days..."

Time stood still as the eyes crept closer, and closer...haunting her, and haunting...stalking her, and stalking....She accepted the eyes. At least that was unknown to her, but George, as he stood just off of her shoulder, she knew him, and what she knew, she feared. "Why, George? Why?" She didn't have to explain, she knew that he knew she meant the need for torture.

"It's either you or me..."

The eyes pounced, and the pain followed long seconds later. The pain as her slender throat was ripped from beneath her chin and as her mid-section was released from its cavity was excruitiating beyond belief. The sharp metallic smell was unbelievable, and the sounds were even worse...there was an insistant dripping noise, accompanied by a vulgar slurping....Her eyes started to roll back in her head....

"14..16..22..skin that turns to blister blue..."

She could feel herself dying, could feel as her soul slipped from the moor she called her body. The slurping continuted, as George began to speak. "See, Auriel. I was right. I won." She could barely shake her head, and she used the last of her strength to inform him that he had actually lost. "Auriel's my mother, George. I'm not Auriel, so you haven't won."

"'Scuse me..I apologize..."

She didn't hear as he cursed soundly, she was only aware of what was happening to her. The pain stopped. Living was no more...breathing was no more...fighting was no more...she...

"...fades to grey..."

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