A Spectator To My Own Actions

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"Alexandre... He..." I couldn't say it. I tried with every fiber of my being, but nothing would come out. Nothing would work. I was frozen. All of my guilt was choking me, so many words were trying to come out at once, but it just wouldn't come out. It was like my tongue was clogged with too many words.

I really wanted him to know and relieve myself of all my grieving, if possible, but it just didn't seem to want to happen. I was scared of what Lance would think. I loved him, but yet I just had sex, in a way, with someone else, and I didn't know how to take it myself, let alone how he would take it.

"Alexandre did what? You can tell me. I won't be mad or laugh. I love you too much to hurt you. Whatever it is, you can tell me." Lance spoke with such care, it truly helped. He placed his hand on my back to comfort me. Every time he touched me my stomach got all gitty. It might sound cheesy, but he had that magic touch, at least for me.

"Alexandre raped me, but I think I enjoyed it," I said as fast as I could, subconsciously wanting Lance not to understand me and just say "okay." The second I finished my eyes flooded with tears. Even saying it was painful. I covered my face to hide them.

I felt embarrassed that I was crying. I didn't want to cry, and it took everything I had to keep it to a few tears sliding down my face, but I didn't want him to see me still. To me, tears were something you had to keep a secret or bad things would happen to you.

"It's okay. It's not like sex isn't supposed to be pleasurable. And it's not like you started it. It's okay, really, it is. Don't blame yourself. I still love you." He spoke so tenderly that I wanted to stay with him in the room for the rest of my life. He was truly and absolutely perfect. Getting a hold of my tears, I looked up at Lance. He was smiling his adorable smile, his eyes glinting in the candle light. His words truly helped me as I had hoped. It felt like his words reached into my soul and took out all my guilt and shame. I felt as if only the memories remained.

I leaned in and we kissed. I couldn't stop my heart jumping in happiness. His lips were so soft and tender. The kiss lasted for what seemed like an eternity, until I felt the flame-like pain inside myself. Hatred, fear, and anger exploded inside me as I jumped up and ran out of the room, leaving Lance at the bed. I looked back briefly and saw his eyes filled with worry as he slowly stood up.

I expected him to follow me but he just stood there at the bed. I wanted to tell him to hide, but by the time I had the idea I could no longer see him, or the room. I turned several more corners, trying to get as far away as I could.

I knew the demon was coming back, and I knew I had to learn to suppress it myself. I ran throughout the mansion, desperately looking for Grandmama. I checked the whipping room. No luck. I looked in the room she eats in. Still no luck. It was the only time I ever wanted to see Grandmama and her dreadful self. It felt very odd and just plain wrong wanting to see her.

I was scared of the demon controlling me again. I thought he might be smart and sneak up on Grandmama. In a way I wanted him to kill her, but I knew that he wouldn't stop there. He was a demon and all he would do is go on a killing spree, leaving all their deaths with my hands. I refused to let it happen, or at least I tried.

I started to run to the grand hall, but before I got there, I lost control of my legs and fell to the floor. This time, the pain was even stronger and awfully prominent. I eventually lost all control and was, once again, just a spectator to my own actions.

"I'm back!" the demon said with a tone so demeaning I could imagine the snide grin on my face. "Did you miss me?" The way he talked - or thought - to me was angering in itself. I wanted to slap him, but all that would do was hurt my own face even more. All I thought about was beating him up until my body started to move. It turned around and headed back to my room.

What was he doing? I hated not knowing. I was scared to know but I couldn't help but be worried for Lance. I knew the demon knew everything I thought, and I was terrified thinking that he could hurt the one person that mattered to me. If he killed Lance, I don't know what I would do. I know nothing would hold me back from killing myself and saving myself of all the pain.

"I figured if I broke your spirit you'd be easier to control. Your will is very strong which makes it hard to move your body with demonic prowess. So I'm going to kill, or at least extremely hurt, Lance. Excited?" So many thoughts ran through my mind. My worst fear had come true and I had no control to stop it, almost. I was terrified of what would happen to Lance, yet I was curious about my will. I didn't know what he meant. Did he mean I just need will to regain my control? I was really mad he'd even want to hurt Lance, and I really wanted to kill the demon.

While thinking, I wasn't paying attention to where my body was going, until I saw Lance walking toward my body, my room just several doors down. All I could think was: No Lance, turn away and run! But none of it was said. Lance looked as happy as he always did, but yet he looked confused about where I was going.

I felt so bad for Lance. He wouldn't suspect anything, until my body through the first blow, giving the demon the advantage. I knew Lance wouldn't lay a finger on my body and he would just take a beating, even to the death. I really didn't want him to, I would rather him kill me first, but I knew that he wouldn't kill my body, whether I was in control or not, and I knew he probably wouldn't win.

Lance was about to say something but before he had a chance to my arm reached out and grabbed Lance's neck, silencing him. He mouth was still open and he seemed almost frozen. Just by that Lance had already lost. I could see the fear in his eyes, but confusion I didn't see, which actually made me confused. My body walked past him and, pulling Lance behind him, rampaged into my room. Lance was thrown onto my bed and punched in the face. His nose bleeding, he shouted, "Leeon, what are you doing?!"

After punching Lance in the gut, my mouth said, "Leeon isn't here anymore. Say hello to the new and definitely improved Leeon!"

I was enraged. I was so mad that he could hurt Lance and what he said; it just angered me to the core. I was shouting at the demon in my head, telling him to stop or I would find a way to destroy him.

"You fool! You can't destroy me. Try all you want, Lance will be dead before you do anything," the demon's voice said in my head.

You kill Lance and I will kill myself. Then you can't do anything else. I will stop you somehow, I will! I wasn't bluffing, and seeing as the demon could hear my thoughts, he knew I wasn't.

"Hah! You won't have the guts to do it, and I won't give you the chance. I will kill Lance." The entire time we were thinking, my body had been hitting Lance who was covered in blood.

I was so angry I felt like I could grab the fiery pain. It felt like I was squeezing it into a little ball as I regained control and suppressed the demon. It was like my anger and fear grew into a handle on the fire, or water, slowly being poured over the fire to put it out once and for all, however I wasn't positive it would be the last time.

At first I got control of my legs and ran out of the room, distancing myself from Lance. As I regained complete control I realized that to suppress him all I have to do is use anger as a handle. It was a weird feeling, but it made me feel strong and powerful.

I quickly ran back to my room, no longer having to hold in the fire inside, and saw Lance stumbling onto his feel. "Lance, I'm so sorry, it's me now. I can't believe it did this," I said as I helped him onto his feet. We sat back down on the bed, my arm wrapped around him for support, as he leaned into my lap, holding his left rib.

"How are you hurt?" I asked, ashamed that my own hands did all the damage to Lance. I blamed myself in a way. If I didn't care so much about Lance then the demon wouldn't have attacked him, or at least he wouldn't have attacked him first.

He looked up at me, faking a smile, as he replied, breathing heavily, "It's not your fault, I'm fine-"

"No, you're not. How are you hurt," I said sternly. I wasn't mad at him; I was just annoyed that he was too worried about me blaming myself to tell me what was wrong. I was flattered and in shock that someone actually cared about me so much. It was something I had never known. It was most likely why I jumped into our relationship, and he obviously cared a lot for me before he even met me, or it seemed that way.

"I think I might have a broken rib, my cheekbone hurts, and my stomach is throbbing," he said, finally telling me the truth. I could hear all the pain in how weak his voice was. He tried to make it seem like it was nothing, but just his voice gave him away. I felt horrible. But, just because Lance cared so much about it, I tried my best not to blame myself. It was the least I could do for him.

"Let me take a look, my mom was a medic and he taught me some signs of different injuries," I said as I laid him back on the bed. Standing up, I moved him so that his head was on the pillow. I examined him bloody face and saw a bruise on his cheek. "Does this hurt?" I asked as I pressed on his cheek bone, just next to the bruise. He shook his head no, and I knew his cheek bone wasn't the problem, it was just a bruise. Then I moved on to his stomach. I untucked his shirt and unbuttoned it so that his stomach was revealed. His stomach looked flexed and was very pale.

"Un-flex your stomach," I said, placing my hand on his semi-pronounced abs.

"I can't," he said quickly. So his abs were cramped. That's not that hard to fix. Next was his ribs. I lifted his shirt further to see them. They were red, most likely from internal bleeding close to the skin. I placed my hand on his ribs causing him to cringe. Letting him squeeze my other hand to cope with the pain, I felt around his rib and found an indention. He was right, broken rib. One of his ribs broke and was collapsing in, which probably caused the internal bleeding.

"Well, your rib is broken and you have internal bleeding. Without a doctor, you're just going to have to let it heal itself. Without surgery, I can't stop the bleeding. Your cheek is bruised and your stomach is cramping. The best thing for you is rest. If you want I can try to help your stomach though?" I offered. I have to admit I wouldn't have normally thought of what I could do unless I felt like I did for Lance. If it was a stranger I wouldn't do it, but for lance I was more than happy to.

"Of course. How will you help it?" he asked naively, or at least to me it seemed naïve, being that I found it obvious.

"I can massage the cramp," I said. Massaging it would help untense the muscle, stopping the pain.

Lance nodded, and I rested my hands on his stomach. I slowly worked out his flexed stomach. His skin was cold but softer than any skin I had ever felt, and I used to baby-sit newborn babies. I found it oddly fun massaging him. Even though he was in pain, knowing that I was helping the pain, and just because I was able to feel his skin was pleasurable.

His stomach slowly relaxed, making his skin softer and less taut. You could still see his abs, but I knew that you could from the water fight, so I just compared it to that memory that I cherished so much, until they matched.

"You stay here and sleep. I'll go work on that storage room. I'll come back and if Grandmama finds out I'll let her punish me. Oh! And if I say demon, do everything you can to run away from me. Got it?" I felt bad for him, so helpless. I was kind of scared to see his reaction to my demon comment, maybe thinking that when I first told him he didn't believe me, but then he just experienced it and he was the one who told me she did demonic rituals, so I quickly lost that worry.

He nodded and I smiled. Leaving the room, I walked through the torn apart hallways. Walking down the hallway the demon walked through had a feeling of fear and power, but it changed back to the mansion's normal dark feel it always had as I got to where the demon hadn't been.

Finally, I got to the storage room and started cleaning. I couldn't help but wish things were the same as last time I cleaned. I wanted Lance to be with me, but I knew that was impossible. I cleaned off a couch and several others pieces of furniture, most of which were covered by a black sheet.

The storage room had a sense of old happiness, but it seemed to emanate more from the items themselves instead of the room. I couldn't get a sense from the room, which was weird. I had been in very few places in my life without a sense or feel. I didn't like it, but I guess no feel is better than the mansions usual evil feel.

I was cleaning off a cabinet when I saw a thin reflective line of silk fall from the ceiling right in front of my face. Petrified, I saw a large black widow slide down the line, its little eye staring right into mine. I fell backwards tripping over something while I screamed. You could almost see the agitation of the spider in its nasty body language.

All eight of its tiny eyes were staring up at me and just being close enough to see all the fine details of it was gross. The red diamond on its back seemed to reflect light and its legs were just dangling from its body. Its two large biting things looked large and imposing. I was deadly scared of them piercing my skin and inserting its toxic venom, leaving me to die in fear.

It dropped down and landed on my leg as I quickly got up and started to shake the leg in the air, it jumping on the floor. Like a bullet, it crawled towards my feet but before it got to me I stomped on it, its guts splattering coating the bottom of my shoe. I felt its exoskeleton resist my force for merely a millisecond before I overpowered it, crushing it with all my hatred and fear. I wiped my shoe off on the wooden plank that tripped me, angry that it caused so much fear. Realizing the sun had fallen, I quickly left the room, finally calming down whilst feeling victorious.

I slowly opened my room's door and saw Lance lying in bed, asleep. Walking over, I sat on the other side of the bed. I leaned over and kissed Lance's cheek as he chest rose and fell. I caressed his soft cheek, just thankful he's alive. I don't know what I would have done if he was dead. I would never be the same, and most likely wouldn't live much longer. There was no one else that mattered anymore. He was my life.

Then an immense hunger hit me. I didn't know what time it was, but I decided to check if there was any accessible food in the kitchen. I left the room and walked to where I had that horrible oatmeal. The room was empty, but the door in the back, leading to the kitchen, was open.

As I approached, I was scared of how the chef's would treat me. I wasn't sure if they would be like Mr. Oaksworth, or if they would report me to Grandmama to save their own skin. I was prepared for anything, and even if they did report me, I wouldn't blame them because I knew how scared and desperate they were inside. I felt sorry for them having to live here for the rest of their life.

Chefs were walking around cleaning, one by one turning to look once they noticed me. I recognized some of them, but most of them were new faces to me. Most of them were looking down on me as if I was some bratty child, and only a few looked honestly interested as to why I was there. "Hi, um, can I have some food for me and Lance? He's injured and asleep in my room?"

"Lance is injured? How? We're not supposed to give food to people," said the chef I talked to when I had that oatmeal. The chef's started to whisper to each other, aside from those that were interested.

"He has a bruised cheek, a stomach cramp- but that's probably gone now- and a broken rib. And if you don't mind, could I use a cup? There's water in my room, I just can't get it to him without a cup."

"Fine, but just this once, and take this," the chef said, then turning and walking out of my sight for a moment. Many of the chef's gasped at him agreeing, then glaring at me like a piece of trash. I glared back, thanks to my reckless self, and they, looking appalled and shocked, looked away and began whispering.

He quickly returned, handing me a plate with steak and mashed potatoes, accompanied with a cup holding a fork, knife, and a roll of white bandaging. "Use the bandage and wrap it around his torso to help his ribs."

"Thank you, I will. Bye," I said, leaving the kitchen as the chefs returned to working. I looked behind my shoulder to make sure none of them were leaving to tell Grandmama, but then I realized they were probably all too scared of her to approach her.

I knew if Grandmama saw me carrying the food, she'd get mad, so I sneakily ran to my room, making sure not to drop anything. I closed my door and rested everything on the dresser next to the bed. Taking everything out of the cup, I took it to my bathroom, filling it with water. Going back to my room, I sat on my knees in front of Lance as I placed my hands on his shoulders.

I gently kissed him before proceeding to say, "Wake up." I slightly shuck him, but not enough to hurt him. He fluttered his beautiful eyes open and looked to me.

"Good morning," he said softly, making me laugh.

"Drink this, it's not morning, it's afternoon," I said softly.

Sitting up and leaning on his arm, he grabbed the glass, taking a sip before he drank it all. He handed me the cup and said, "Oh, okay. Thanks."

"You're welcome. Guess what I have for us!" I said excitedly. I was really happy to eat something, especially steak and mashed potatoes, even though I thought Lance was going to get most of it. I loved mashed potatoes, and steak was my favorite kind of meat. He looked over at the dresser and, after seeing the food, his face lit up instantly. I handed him the fork and knife and held the plate for him to eat.

Being with lance made me so happy and it filled the room with happiness. I was so captivated by his aura of happiness. I had never seen someone like him. I had seen people that had auras of sadness or anger, but never happiness. It was like lance was so innocent it couldn't contain itself.

He cut the steak into pieces and started to eat. Stabbing the fork into the steak, he dipped it into the mashed potatoes and took a bite, moaning, to tell me it was delicious. My mouth my watering, begging me to eat. I was strong, however and didn't want to take anything from lance. He prepared another bite, but then motioned for me to open my mouth. I did, my mouth practically jumping in excitement and happiness, and he gave me a bite. He was right, it was delicious. The steak was tender and juicy and the mashed potatoes were creamy and didn't have any of those chunks some people leave that bugs me anytime I eat them. It was adorable and, in a way, romantic.

I was jealous of Grandmama. She got five star restaurant quality food, had all her chores done for her, she lived in a mansion, and got whatever she wanted. I guess that's what happens when you're a billionaire, but she abused her power and twisted the wonderful world into a nightmare for others. It was despicable.

He repeated the process of switching off who got the bites until it was all gone. I was full, just from eating half of it, and I could tell lance was by his body language, his face looking pleased and his hand on his

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