Chapter Two: Coming to Terms
Early the next morning, Rose was suddenly and cruelly awakened by the
shocking experience of being sprayed with a cold water hose. Richard stood
outside her cage and sprayed her from head to toe as Rose twisted and writhed in
the cold stream of water. By the time he was finished, she was soaking wet,
curled into a tight ball in the corner of the cage with her knees tucked against
her chest trying to keep as much water off her as possible, she was squealing
behind the still-present piece of duct tape, she was very cold and she was
mostly caked in mud.
"That's your bath, Rose." Richard said. "It doesn't look like you got
very clean, muddy slut. Oh well. You will learn to stand up, stooped over in the
cage and bear the water if you want to be clean. Otherwise, you'll just have to
go the day being a dirty little piggy like you are today."
Richard unlocked the padlock and pulled the latch, opening the cage
door. He told her to get out and get on her knees next to him while he locked
the door. She shook her head furiously at him and pushed herself against the
back of the cage. Richard sighed and took what looked like an elongated
fireplace poker of a nail hammered into the side of the cabin near the dog pen's
entrance. He walked to the rear of the pen and started poking Rose roughly in
the ribs and back, driving her forward. He could hear her trying to scream
behind her makeshift gag. As she was driven forward, Richard walked along the
outside of the cage, thrusting the poker through the fence, constantly driving
Rose forward. She stumbled toward the front of the cage. It only took a moment
to get her to the door, but to Rose it seemed like forever. Her sides and back
and legs throbbed where ever Richard had poked her with that awful poker.
However, as soon as Rose reached the door of the pen, she bolted. She
was up on her feet and running down the dirt road in an instant. She tried to
carry herself as swiftly as her legs would take her away from the cabin. Maybe
she could make it to the road and a car would come along and rescue her before
Richard could catch her.
"Jesus Christ, you're a moron, Rose." Richard said to himself as he
dropped the poker to the ground and took off after her. She couldn't run
terribly fast with her hands cuffed behind her back.
He caught up to her in no time. It was inevitable, of course. He caught
her, grabbed her by the hair and threw her to the ground. He pulled his belt off
his pants and viciously beat her, letting the belt fall where it may while she
twisted in agony. Over and over the leather belt cracked down on her skin,
striking her legs, ass, arms, or chest, whatever presented itself as a viable
target. Soon, she was sobbing behind her gag, tears running from her eyes.
Richard did not relent, however. He continued until her body was covered in red
slashes from the belt. The red went nicely with the mud caked on her from her
shower and the dirt covering her from the road. She looked like a pig and
Richard told her that she did. She only laid there in the dirt and sobbed; her
entire body was a flash of pain. She refused to look at him as he berated her
with insults.
"You dirty piggy bitch! Don't try to run, Rose. It's useless to even
try. The road is miles from here. The nearest town is over a hundred miles from
here. You're not going anywhere, you stupid pig."
He snatched her up off the ground by her hair and walked her forcefully
back to the cabin. He shoved her roughly against the side of the dog pen and
told her not to move unless she wanted some more of what she just got. He went
and picked up the poker from where he had dropped it. He hung it back on the
nail and then closed the door to her pen and locked it. He walked back over to
her and threw her roughly to the ground. He knelt with a knee in the middle of
her back and took the handcuffs off of her. He turned her over and pulled the
tape off her mouth roughly. She cried out as the tape that had been there for
almost ten hours was ripped from her lips. The area behind the tape was red and
raw.
Rose looked pathetic, covered head to toe in dirt and mud, tears
streaking her dusty cheeks. Richard took a moment to admire his work. He smiled
down at her as she laid there in the dirt. She wouldn't look at him. She
couldn't bear it. She felt so miserable and so scared. How could Richard the
geek have gotten the better of her? She was the one that used to pick on him
relentlessly in school. She was supposed to be better than him. Little Richard
with his thick glasses, skinny little body and shaggy haircut; he really was a
pathetic thing in high school. And now, here he was kneeling over her
dirt-covered body smiling down at her nudity and shame. How could he do that to
her? It wasn't fair!
Richard pulled her off the ground by her hair and led her roughly and
quickly over to the shed on the other side of the cabin. He pushed her roughly
against the grainy wooden wall of the outside of the shed. He unlocked the
padlock closing the shed's door and swung the door open. Inside were all kinds
of things. There were power tools, hand tools, hobbles for horses, all sorts of
bits and bridles and tack. There were also several leashes for dogs, collars,
muzzles and the like.
Richard pulled Rose into the shed with him while he looked over some of
the leather items hanging on the walls. He took down a bright red leather collar
with a metal ring in the front of it. This he put around Rose's neck and buckled
it shut. There was a place on the buckle for a lock so the collar could not be
removed, except by the person with the key. Richard selected a small brass
padlock from the workbench in the shed and locked the collar. He took the small
brass key that would open the lock and threaded it onto his key ring.
"That's the only thing you will ever be allowed to wear in my presence
while you are here, Rose. That collar is the only bit of clothing you will have
here. Get used to it and come to like it. Now, say thank you." Richard said,
looking over his work, making sure the collar fit properly.
"Fuck this, Richard!" Rose yelled at him. "You want me to thank you? Are
you some kind of lunatic? I mean..."
Richard reached up and slapped her hard across the cheek. She looked at
him in total shock, a red hand print coming up on the side of her face. Her eyes
were wide and tear-filled again. She couldn't actually believe he had hit her.
"Say thank you, piggy. Say 'Thank you, Richard, for the nice collar.'"
Rose brought her hand up and touched her still-stinging cheek. She
looked away from him, rubbing where he had hit her.
"Do I need to repeat myself again, Rose?" Richard asked sternly.
She looked back up at him and said, "No." She looked down again and said
very quietly, "Thank you, Richard, for the nice collar." She flushed bright red
as she said it, not believing her own mouth had made those words.
"What did you say?" Richard asked. "You'll have to speak up. I didn't
hear you properly."
"Please, Richard, don't make me..."
He raised his hand as if to strike her again. She flinched away from him
and cowered slightly.
Slowly, but loudly, Rose said, "Thank you, Richard, for the nice
collar."
"You're welcome, piggy." Richard said to her, sweetly. "In fact, that
will be your name for now. I like it and I think it shows your true nature." He
continued, looking her over. "What do you think, Rose?"
Swallowing her tongue, Rose said, "Whatever you feel is right."
"Good girl, piggy. Now, say your name for me. I'd like to hear what it
sounds like coming out of your mouth."
"Please, Richard..." Rose began, but stopped, knowing it was useless.
Again, she swallowed her tongue and her pride and said, "My name is piggy,
Richard."
"Good girl, dirty little piggy. Now, isn't that better than a slap in
the face?" Richard asked.
"Yes, it is, definitely." Rose answered quickly.
"Now, tell me, piggy, why is your name piggy?"
She looked up at him again, that same stunned, shocked look on her face
as when he'd hit her. She looked at her feet and said, "Because, I like rolling
in the dirt."
"What was that, piggy? I didn't hear you properly." Richard asked
patiently, looking at her.
"I like rolling in the dirt." Rose repeated, looking at him. She noticed
him looking back at her and quickly dropped her eyes again. She couldn't bear to
meet his gaze. This was Richard, after all, the chess club nerd from high
school. How could he have ever gotten the better of her like this? He even had
her calling herself piggy just for his amusement. She couldn't believe how mean
he was being and how terrible he was making her feel. Whatever she did to him in
school, surely he couldn't have held a grudge this long about things, could he?
"Can I ask you a question?" Rose asked tentatively. When Richard nodded
his assent, she continued. "Why are you doing this to me? Was I really such a
terrible person back in high school? I mean, like, I know I picked on you and
stuff, but it was just harmless fun. I never meant anything by it, you know?"
"Just harmless fun and you never meant anything by it?" Richard shouted.
"Fuck you, Rose! You poked fun at me non-stop for seven years. All through
junior high school and high school you made my life miserable with all of your
teasing. You even had all your friends in on the act. Do you know what it feels
like to be laughed at everyday? Do you know what its like to not be able to go a
single day without someone giving you a wedgie or pushing you down in the halls
or knocking your books down the stairs and then have to listen to all those
people as they laugh at you?"
Richard was furious. He was pacing the small shed and fuming. His voice
was loud and carried the built up anger of seven years of teenage angst.
"Hell no, Rose doesn't know a thing about that, because Rose was the
perfect little daddy's girl. She was rich and well-liked by everyone. The whole
world was beneath her consideration and she damned sure couldn't be bothered how
the other students treated her little play toy. It's your fucking fault, Rose,
that I didn't have a life until college. It's your fault that all the
cheerleaders, drill squad, softball players... Hell, every girl in school picked
on me or pinched me or kicked me. And when the football players saw it
happening, they naturally had to get in on the act, too."
"Every single day was torture for me, Rose. Not that you give a rat's
ass. I hated going to school, because I knew someone was going to either trip me
in the halls or knock my books down the stairs or stick my head in a toilet. Do
you know what that's like? To have your fucking head stuck in some football
player's piss?"
"No, you don't know do you Rose, because for you, life is just peachy
everyday. What do you have to worry about? Your daddy had all the money you
could spend, you were a cheerleader and were extraordinarily popular, and you
had everyone in the whole school bent on your every word."
Rose interrupted him and said quickly, "Look, Richard, it's not my fault
you were a geek in school, okay? Some people are just better than others and
some people are just meant to be leaders. I mean look at me, Richard. I am
better than other people. I have everything I want and I always will. So, stop
trying to make it out like it's my fault, you freak. It's not my fault your
parents were losers."
Rose knew she probably shouldn't have said that as soon as the words came
out of her mouth. He grabbed her by the hair and threw her out of the shed to
the dirt of the drive. He followed her out and was standing over her in a flash.
He pulled the belt from his pants again and began beating her soundly. As he
whipped her, he yelled at her.
"My parents are not losers, fucking bitch!" Richard screamed as he brought
the belt down across her skin. "They worked hard to make sure we had food and a
nice house and clothes. My dad saved for years to put me in college and when I
got a scholarship, he was so happy. He took his money and actually got to spend
a little on himself. My parents loved me and my sister and they didn't have to
buy our affection. How dare you say something like that, you fucking bitch. How
dare you!"
Richard fell to his knees in the dirt next to Rose and sobbed. All the
emotion that had been swallowed within him over the years finally came to the
surface just once. Near him, Rose was a stinging, swelling mess. Her body was
striped with many long red stripes from the leather belt. Richard had not spared
and inch of her flesh. She was smart enough to curl into a ball and cover
herself so most of his blows fell on her back and ass. However, many of his
frenzied thrashings hit her arms, legs and feet. She was lying crumpled in the
dirt and weeping. Her entire body ached.
Still, she couldn't understand where Richard was coming from with his
ranting. It was probably inconceivable for Rose to understand Richard's plight.
After all, she had not had the life he had and she could not know how difficult
school had been for him.
If Richard had anything to say about the matter, she would know. She would
know exactly how it felt to be humiliated and treated like a second rate piece
of trash. Richard would languish in the knowledge and pleasure of seeing this
prissy little bitch taught what real life was like. Well, okay, maybe not real
life in the job and work and studying sort of sense, but real in the sense that
she would not be a favoured treasure. She wouldn't be daddy's little girl, nor
would she be catered to on a silver platter. She would start learning lessons
and, instead of being served, the luscious and righteous Rose would be the
servant.
Rose had risen to her hands and knees and was feebly crawling away from
Richard when he snapped to from his wandering. He looked at her trying to flee
and stood up.
"Did you forget what I told you, Rose? It is miles to the road and many
miles to the nearest phone. Now, get your pretty little ass back over here and
maybe I won't beat you again." Richard said the last part quite sternly to get
his point across.
She turned and looked at him over her shoulder. She whimpered slightly,
but turned around and started to rise to her feet.
"No!" Richard commanded. "Just as you are is fine. Crawl back to me. Keep
your head down and don't stop until you see the toes of my boots in front of
your face."
Rose lowered her head, defeated, for the moment at least, and began to
slowly crawl to Richard's feet. Soon enough, she saw his boots under her face
and she stopped.
"Good piggy. Now, don't move while I get some things from the shed."
Rose nodded imperceptibly and stayed right where she was told. She ached
so badly that she would have done about anything to avoid another beating from
him.
In a moment she heard him close the door to the shed and lock the padlock.
She heard him approach her, but she dared not look up at him. Somehow, she felt
like he might get angry again if she did. His hand went to the ring on the
collar under her chin. He snapped a leash to the collar and then gave her a
little slap on the ass with the riding crop he had picked up from the shed. Rose
squeaked and started crawling; guessing that was what was required of her at
this time.
Richard directed her to crawl toward the cabin and, as she was headed in
that direction, she suddenly realized she had not yet had the opportunity to go
to the washroom yet this morning. She didn't know if she should bother Richard
with it or not, but she was going to have to go sometime fairly soon.
He led her up the couple of steps to the covered porch of the cabin and
tied her leash to the railing that ran the front of the porch, except where the
stairs ascended to it. Nearby was an old wooden rocking chair, the kind you
would expect to see in the old western movies. Richard sat down in the rocker.
He placed one foot on Rose's back and rocked with the other foot. He sat and
stared off into the distance, swinging the crop as he rocked. He sighed,
clearing his head and getting his thoughts back into order. He didn't like the
fact that he had gotten emotional in front of Rose. That showed that she still
had some degree of power over him and to him and that was unacceptable.
Rose squirmed a little as the pressure in her bladder increased.
"Be still!" Richard ordered.
"I have to go pee. Can't I use the toilet?" Rose asked, some of the old
tone coming back into her voice.
Oh that's right, Richard thought to himself. I haven't covered that
particular little point with her yet. He guessed that now would be a good of a
time as any other. He untied the leash from the porch railing.
"Sure." He said. "Let's go take you to pee."
He led her to the side of the cabin, just away from the dog pen. Her dog
pen, Rose though. It's not just the dog pen anymore, is it? It's my dog pen;
where I have to live with this insane freak from now until he lets me go or
until I can get the fuck out of here.
The ground at the side of the cabin was also dirt. It looked as if the
people that used this cabin parked pickup trucks or travel campers in this area.
The dirt area extended probably thirty or forty feet before it became grassy and
then finally gave way to the woods. Richard led her almost to the centre of the
dirt area and stopped her.
"This area over here is your toilet from now on. You will come over here,
dig a little hole, do your business and bury whatever you do. For now, I will
supervise you, but if you are a good piggy I will let you go potty by yourself.
I'll time you to make sure you don't run away, of course, but you'll still be
able to go alone."
"Oh this is sick, Richard." Rose said, gritting her teeth. "You want me to
pee in the dirt and then bury it like I'm some kind of cat? That's just nasty."
"Well, it's exactly what you're going to do. Not only pee but shit, too.
Anytime you have to use the toilet, you will come here to do it. If you have a
problem with that I can always duct tape your piss hole and your asshole shut
until you're ready to pop. I imagine by that time you won't have so much of a
problem going to the washroom where I tell you."
Rose whined and started to protest, but she knew it wouldn't do any good.
She knew he would just take her back to the cabin and tape her up like he said
he would. She had the distinct impression that he would not have much patience
with her today after what she had said to him earlier. She knew what she said
was right, though. Certain people have certain places in life. Richard's parents
were little people that led little lives. They would never have any money and
they would never amount to a speck of anything in the long run. Richard wouldn't
either, for that matter. He'd probably wind up selling tile at Home Hardware or
wind up being a nurse like his mom and dad. What kind of life was that? Just
doing the same old shit over and over again? Boring is what it was and Rose
would be damned to hell if she would have it for herself. Her parents had taught
her better and she had the money to have any kind of life she wanted.
Regardless, she dug a little hole in the dirt with her hands and squatted
over it, Richard watching the whole time. Rose pissed in the little hole she
made and turned around to bury it. She caught a whiff of the smell and saw the
foamy little puddle soaking into the soil and retched. She sat there for a
minute just trying not to throw up. Oh god, please don't let me puke, she begged
silently.
She finally steadied herself and buried her little pool of pee. She waited
for Richard to tell her what to do next. Just wait, she thought. It's not always
going to be so easy, you little prick. I'll fight you. I'm not going to make
things so easy on you all the time. You're going to regret ever bringing me out
here, you jerk son of a bitch.
"Alright, Rose, let's go. It's time to eat." Richard said, pulling the
leash and guiding her back toward the cabin.
As they approached the cabin, Richard directed her to go to the pen. He
opened the door and let her in, unclipping the leash from her collar, then
closing and locking the door behind her. As she sat on the dirt covered floor of
the pen, Richard walked into the cabin and began cooking.
Since it was still fairly early, he decided breakfast would work better
than lunch. He looked through the ice chest he had brought in the night before
and found sausage, eggs and bread and set about making breakfast on the gas
stove.
The interior of the cabin was actually quite nice, if not a little rustic.
It was a one floor, one room affair, but fairly spacious. The walls, ceiling and
floor were all made of wood, but on the floor, just as one entered the door,
there laid a red woven rug that looked like it might be older then the dirt
covering it. As one walked in the doorway, to the right, against the wall, was a
small bed with clean linens. Richard had thought ahead of time to bring bed
coverings, figuring they would be out here for some time. Settled into the back
wall was a stone fireplace. Directly in front of the fireplace was a collapsible
card table with two folding steel chairs. Against the left wall were the gas
stove, an old porcelain sink and the ice chest Richard had brought. There were
also two long shelves, one above the stove and one above the bed, that held
mostly canned goods, pots and pans, spices, cups, books and all sorts of other
little whatnots. It was a cozy little place and even though it didn't have any
electricity, a person could live out here indefinitely if they knew how to hunt.
Richard cooked six sausage links, four eggs and four pieces of toast, but
he only ate four of the links, three of the eggs and three pieces of toast. The
rest he saved aside for his helpless little captive.
Once he was finished eating, he walked out of the cabin, across the porch
and toward the shed.
Rose shouted from inside the dog pen, "Hey! Aren't you going to feed me?"
Richard turned and looked back at her. She was up against the gate of the
pen with her fingers hooked through the chain link fence. She was looking after
him as best as she could from her position on the other side of the cabin.
"Keep your pants on." Richard said. "I'm just going to get your dish."
He turned and headed again toward the shed. He unlocked the door and went
inside. On the floor were two beaten tin dishes, both circular, measuring about
six inches in diameter. During the regular hunting season they were used to keep
dog food and water in for the hunting dogs. However, they would serve just as
well to feed Rose for now. He picked up the dishes and walked out of the shed,
closing and locking the door behind him. He walked over to the dog pen and
unlocked the door, warning Rose to back away or she would get some more of the
poker.
Rose backed away from the door and Richard placed the dishes just inside
the gate of the pen. He closed and locked the gate as he returned to the cabin
to get Rose's breakfast. He picked up the skillet he had left her eggs, sausage
and toast in and walked back outside to the pen. He noted the eggs were pretty
cold by now and the sausage looked fairly lukewarm. Perfect, he thought.
After opening the cage door again, he scraped the scraps from the skillet
into one of the tin dishes. Leaving the skillet on top of the cage momentarily,
Richard got the water hose, which was connected to a spigot at the front left
corner of the cabin, and filled the other dish with water. He closed and locked
the cage, picked up the skillet and headed back inside the cabin.
"Enjoy." Richard said as he walked away from the pen.
As soon as Rose heard the cabin door close, Rose scrambled over to the two
dishes. Even thought he thought of eating like this was degrading, she was so
damned hungry that she didn't care if he had thrown the food on the ground, she
would have eaten it anyway. She shovelled eggs into her mouth with her fingers
and ate one of the sausages along with the eggs. The other she wrapped in a
piece of toast and ate the two together. She then picked up the water dish and
drunk almost all of it in several long gulps. She even licked her fingers clean
when she was done. She hadn't realized how famished she was. She could have
eaten more, if the food had been present.
She probably hadn't eaten anything in nearly twenty-four hours. She was
starved and with good reason. She realized her situation suddenly. While
drinking the rest of the water from the dish, it hit her. Here she was, naked,
locked in a collar, whipped, humiliated, degraded, pinned up in a cage and
eating her food out of what was clearly a doggy bowl. She began to weep. She
couldn't help it, the tears just came. This should have never happened to her.
Not even to anyone like her. People like her were supposed to be pretty all the
time, not covered in dirt and mud and welts from belts. People like her were
supposed to dress nicely, not forced into nudity. People like her were supposed
to go to fancy parties and have fun, not spend their time locked in a cage or
crawling around on a leash. She was supposed to eat catered food, not scraps
from a cols skillet. She wasn't even supposed to go to stupid old college,
either. She was supposed to look pretty and marry rich, like her mother had
done.
Her mother was a cow, though. The stupid old bitch probably didn't know
her ass from a hole in the ground. She was daddy's trophy wife. When she turned
forty, he had bought her a boob job. A couple of years later, a face lift, then
a tuck here and there, then she had her eyebrows done. The woman was such a
fake. Rose didn't really know why daddy kept her around, but she knew better
than to ask.
After all, daddy was older and handsome. He had that touch of grey right
at the temples of his hair and a really pronounced chin and great nose. He had
all those classic features they talked about in the magazines Rose read at the
hair salon. Rose thought he looked distinguished. Yes, that was the word the
magazines used all the time. Her daddy was a distinguished gentleman. He watched
business television all the time and made sure all of his stocks kept going up
and up and up. He spent a lot of time at work, though. Being a lawyer must have
been hard. Sometimes, daddy didn't even come home from the office or from trips
for, like, two or three days.
Mom didn't work, though. No way would she have had a job, not if daddy had
anything to say about it. He didn't want his wife to work. He wanted her to be
home to cook and handle planning the parties and paying the bills and that sort
of stuff. At least that's what daddy always said. Thinking about it now, though,
Rose wondered what her mother really did do all day. Their family had an
accountant to pay bills and do taxes, they had a maid to clean the house and
Rose really never could remember her mother cooking much of anything. Their
chef, Pierre, saw to all of that. Either that or they ate out at expensive
restaurants during the evenings when daddy was home.
The only things she had ever seen her mother really ever do was lay out in
the sun or shop. She really was a cow. With all the money daddy was making and
all the work he did to keep them happy, she figured her mom could at least show
some appreciation and cook dinner herself or do something, anything.
Something started nagging at the back of Rose's mind, something that she
didn't like. A thought that really began to frighten her or it would have if it
had really come to the surface. Before her thoughts could be completely
realized, though, she was interrupted by the tiny sounds of a radio playing
inside the cabin.
Rose strained against the cage to listen to the music. She tried terribly
to make out the words or even the kind of music, but it wasn't really loud
enough for her to hear very well. She didn't know why, but for some reason, that
little sound made her feel like she was still part of the world and not some
hostage in an insane world gone mad. She wished Richard would turn it up. She
would give almost anything just to be able to hear the words of one of her
favourite songs. She wiped the tears from her eyes and tried to push her head
hard against the chain link side of the cage, thinking that if she could press
her ear to the side of the cabin, she could hear better. Even though there was
barely two inches between the side of the cage and the wall of the cabin, Rose
couldn't push hard enough to get her ear against the wall. She lay on the ground
dejected and miserable, left alone with nothing to do but to think.
Rose was beginning to realize changes had had taken place already in
herself from this experience. She realized she really would have done anything
to listen to the radio and, despite the fact that her food was served to her
cold in a dog dish, she had eaten it and hadn't really given it much thought.
What was happening to her? This wasn't right! She would not accept this
situation. She would not become accustomed to such petty nonsensical shit as
this. She had to maintain her focus.
But what could she do? If she refused to eat, he would just take it away
from her and not feed her. If she refused to do as she was told, he would whip
her again. Hell, if she didn't fucking piss in a little hole for him and bury
it, she would get her pussy and ass taped shut for her efforts. Regardless of
what she thought or even if she refused to admit it to herself, she was in his
power. She hated that! She was always the one in control. She was the one that
made the rules, her own rules. Who the fuck was he to do this to her. She should
have gotten daddy's gun and shot the fucking bastard.
The door of the cabin opened and Richard walked out. He began walking
toward the cage and Rose looked up, wondering if he was coming for her, but he
kept walking, heading for the rear of the cabin.
Rose pressed herself against the rear of the cage to watch him, lacing her
finger into the chain links.
"Richard?" She asked very tentatively.
He stopped and looked back at her. "What?" He asked.
"Can I... May I... Please... listen to your radio? Please?" She asked
nervously, trying to look away from him, but failing.
"No." He said simply and began to walk away again.
Rose pressed harder against the fence, her eyes following him, riveted on
him.
"Please, Richard." She begged. She was really begging. She couldn't
believe it. She was begging to be allowed to listen to a radio. "Please let me
listen to it. I... I need to hear it, just to hear something from the world."
"I said no, Rose, and I meant it." He said and continued to walk.
"Please! I'll do anything you want." She cried out, gasping at her own
desperate words. What had gotten into her?
Richard stopped again. "Are you that desperate already, Rose? I have only
had you for a day and you are already begging me to do anything I want? Jesus,
Rose, you're making my work too easy."
She began to weep again. "Fuck you." She said weakly. "Fuck you. I just
need to know the world is still there. You don't understand, you asshole. You're
not on this side of the fence."
Richard cocked an eyebrow at her. "Asshole?" He asked. "You're not being
terribly persuasive, you know? What's the matter, Rose? Are you lonely?"
"Yes." She replied meekly, her usual haughtiness gone. "I can't stand it
out here. I hate being alone. All I can do is sit here and think."
"Imagine that." Richard said a slightly mocking tone in his voice. "I
didn't know you were capable of it."
"You're so mean to me! How can you be so heartless?" Rose cried out, her
voice still quaking from emotion.
"Well, god damn, Rose, I think you're starting to realize how it feels.
Now, fuck off, piggy, I have to go shit."
With that, Richard walked away around the back of the cabin. Rose heard a
wooden door close and figured there must be another building around the back of
the place.
What a fucking prick he was being! She had only made one small request.
Why couldn't he just let her listen to the fucking music? Why did he have to
torture her so? What did she ever do that was so wrong?
He had told her what she had done to him, but fuck him! It was not her
fault that he and his whole fucking stupid, poor family were losers. If they had
wanted a better life, they should have done something about it. Blaming her for
all his problems wasn't going to solve anything. Besides, all she had done was
pick on him some in school. Everybody did it! Was that so damned hard to
understand?
Wait. Not everyone got picked on, did they? Rose never really did. Maybe
some in grade school, but nowhere near as bad as she had picked on Richard. No!
No, that was not right. He got what he deserved. Whatever she had done to him,
it was entirely his own fault. Fuck that little, skinny mother fucker. He got
what he deserved! He did! She knew he did. It was his fault, all his fault.
She wept, putting her face in her hand and sitting back in the dirt.
Wasn't it all his fault?
