Fantasy Pt. 09: Henry the Monster

Part Nine: Henry the Monster

*****

Alice got on the laptop as soon as she awoke, and what she found troubled her.

Henry was in the kitchen. She stepped to the doorway and knocked on the doorframe.

"Good morning. How are you feeling?" She was better, at least physically. She didn't get winded walking. There was another, altogether different thing.

"I looked it up, Henry. I am like the whore of Babylon."

He put down the glass he was drying and leaned back against the counter.

"Really? You want to share this new finding?"

"She's a whore who has a cup, and it's filled with the abominations of her adulteries. I'm a whore, or a slut, and I had a cup filled with abominations of my adultery. I drank some. It's me."

Henry shook his head slowly. "It's not you. The whore of Babylon is Rome. Or it's a metaphor. It's not a woman."

"It says she was a woman."

"Are you trying to convince me? Though God knows why. It's not like I think you're as pure as the driven snow and I need a lot of convincing otherwise. Or are you trying to convince yourself? You think you need more reason to hate yourself? Go back and read the whole thing."

"I'm right."

"No. You're not. Try this out. Instead of the whore of Babylon, think of the prodigal wife."

She thought about it for a moment.

"There isn't any prodigal wife. It's a prodigal son. There's no wife."

"Maybe there is. Here, get your own breakfast." He walked past her and into the back of the house.

*****

Prodigal son. Prodigal wife. The father gave the son a second chance. Is Henry telling me I have a second chance?

She stood in the doorway of Henry's office, afraid to knock, afraid to ask. Afraid she'd say the wrong thing. And it was here she made her mistake.

"Henry? Can I ask you something? What you just said, about the prodigal wife. Do you mean it? I mean, about me? Do you think it's possible, maybe, that I could have another chance? I'd do anything if you'd give me one. I would. The prodigal wife would make good."

Henry winced and face-palmed. Yes, actually. It's not just an Internet meme.

"That's not what I meant. I apologize. I'm not trying to lead you on. I meant you don't need to hate yourself so much. Being prodigal isn't as bad as being the Great Whore. That's all. A lot of people have lost control, had a wild time, that sort of thing. But I don't see us as a couple. There's too much water over that dam."

Too much cock, too. And too much come.

Well, the course of true love never did run smooth. That's Shakespeare again.

Sometimes the course is dammed. Sometimes it's damned. That's not from anywhere in particular. It's just true.

"If you wanted...you could...you could do things to me. I wouldn't mind."

She should have focused on his face, but she was seeing what she wanted and didn't even notice his head jerk around.

"I'm not going to 'do things' to you. So please stop it." He sounded pleasant.

"Really. Anything."

"I'm not going to be like Richard! So, just stop it! And we're not getting back together!" Nothing pleasant there,

"Listen, Henry. I'm offering myself to you. For anything you want."

"Well, no thank you. For anything."

"Why not?" She snapped at him. "Think you couldn't measure up?" She turned her back to him, dismissively.

Fuck her all to hell! He was on her before she could think to ask herself why did I say that? He ripped her around by an arm then grabbed both the straps of her peignoir and pulled her right up to his face. She screamed.

No, no please, I didn't mean it! He was breathing hard, through his mouth, and his face was red. Veins stood out on his forehead. His eyes became pinpoints. It wasn't Henry at all but some madman, a monster, and Alice recognized it.

It was Friday and she was back at the whipping. This was what happened to Henry then, when he was hitting her and hitting her. The same transformation. That face. And his face from the nightmare, when he was both Henry and not Henry. It was him.

He stared down into her face, blank, pale, and frightened. He breathed on her through his mouth, not two inches above her. The peignoir's straps threatened to break and weak little Alice waited. After the scream when he first grabbed her, she hadn't so much as twitched. Don't. Don't. His breath smelled different. She wanted to avoid it. It would contaminate her, but she couldn't look away while waiting to be hurt. It wasn't Henry who held her almost suspended off the floor, but something else. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. Don't hurt me. She was as silent as she was still.

But then he lowered her. It was as effortless as the lifting. He could do whatever he wanted with her and he was putting her down. He kept breathing on her, but she thought she could see bits of Henry in his face again. He might not hurt her. Please.

"You fucking...Don't you ever, ever say that again." His voice wasn't low, wasn't guttural. It was higher pitched and loud. Crazed.

When he lowered her it was with care, almost softly. Alice was half off the floor, then she was down and standing on her own while his fingers opened slowly, one, two, three, all of them, from her straps, until finally he took his hands entirely away from her and turned them around. He held half-curled palms up toward his face and stared into them, still huffing. He was ever more like Henry. Alice was a statue. Her arms were raised only to her breasts.

"Ever!" He pointed at her, kept his arm pointed at her, as though his hand and finger were a gun, pointing at her face. Then he turned away from her, to the door, stepped through, paused, and turned back. "Ever." And he was gone.

Alice backed up to the chair and sat and held her arms tightly around herself, and shivered.

* * * * *

Oh dear God, my God, please forgive me! Holy Mother, what did I do? And he could have killed me. What did I do? What was I thinking? I wasn't thinking at all. It was so easy to hurt him and I did it without thinking. I don't know what to do. I wanted to bring us together and I pushed a wedge between us.

And now this. What did he become? A monster. Some kind of one, Because of me. Oh my Henry, I'm so sorry. I know you hurt and you could really hurt me again.

*****

"Henry? Please call! Please. I'm sorry for what I said. I'm such an idiot. Please call. Please!"

She called again.

The third time the call went straight to voicemail. All the rest did as well.

*****

She waited in his office. She went into the bedroom and made the bed and waited for him there. She tried the living room. Where should she wait? She sat on the couch the longest time. Finally she decided she had to eat something, but it took her a long time to prepare some cereal and to eat it, because she kept stopping, certain that she'd heard his car or the garage door or his footsteps.

She washed the dishes.

She remembered she hadn't taken her pills and went to the bathroom to get them, and in the middle of swallowing them she thought she heard the garage door again.

She walked about aimlessly, straightening the house, then straightening it anew.

She stood in the front door and looked up and down the street, over and again, then tried his number again.

"Please come home, Henry."

She put the dishes away.

She thought: Is this what I did to you? I left you all by yourself? No, that was worse because I was just gone. You left because you couldn't stand to be with me. But how could I do what I did? What was wrong with me? What is wrong with me?

She sat on the couch again and after a while she found herself nodding off.

Henry?

She tried the TV, but she couldn't watch it. She kept listening for him. She couldn't get started on a book or magazine. The day drew on. She tried the TV again and watched a story on the Weather Channel about tornadoes in the Midwest. CNN had a report about suicide bombings in Afghanistan. She looked out the window.

She checked the phone again. Everything was fine. Nothing was fine.

She thought about what she did to him. What is wrong with me? It was such a puzzle.

*****

By mid-afternoon, Alice opened the laptop to investigate herself. She covered everything in chronological order, beginning with Richard's first phone call.

She listened to the entire call, then played it back. Richard was so smooth, so in control. I used stupid, hackneyed phrases, just trying to hit him, while he responded perfectly to everything I said. She played snippets over and again. Richard's natural use of compliments, none used excessively or appearing forced into the conversation, sprinkled here and there. Stroking her with them. His self-deprecation when she'd lash at him, turning away or absorbing her ire. His warm laugh. How did he know just what to say, and how to say it? I even like hearing it now, when I know his game. He is so good and I was so easy. She played the whole thing through yet again.

A memory interfered. It went like this. Alice is kneeling below Richard and licking his cock from his balls to the tip. It's entrancing. He's slapping both her cheeks, lightly, enough to sting, one side then the other, while she licks the length of his cock, going all the way to the head, swirling her tongue around the head and then taking it in as far as she can. Not into her throat; not yet. That will come at a later time. He's so meaty. Suck and swallow. Suck and swallow. He slaps her again and again, and she sucks until he pulsates into her. It turns so her on. That was the memory. It was an early experience of Richard, of him personally rather than of the girls.

Her mind snapped back to the recordings. Stop it! Not that! Not now.

Wait, is that Henry's car?

She went to Henry's saved voice mails, where Richard talked in an utterly different voice and talked about her in utterly different ways. She was shaken by his vocal shape-shifting ability. One Richard to seduce Alice; another one to torment Henry, the tormenter so ugly and cruel in comparison to the charming prince who brought down Alice.

On to the photographs and screen grabs. I liked the dog collar and going topless with him. I got so hot. She even grew hot at the memory. And yes, where he sucked the wine off my breasts. I'd seen that in a movie once and had wondered what it was like. I was thrilled. The memories warmed her more. To have it done in a crowded club turned me on completely. Sucking him on my knees before the photographer. I wanted all of it. Not the bukkake, but beforehand, when it was a fantasy, when he was preparing me for it. Even that. Would I have come to like it if I hadn't gotten sick? I don't know, but my stomach says 'no.' Her whole sex disagreed. Maybe she would have. The same as being whipped. Everything was sexy beforehand, when Richard instructed her. Some things were always sexy. Could Richard make everything sexy for me? Or did he take me past a point beyond which I didn't want to go but it was too late to get out? She couldn't decide.

The one thing she couldn't watch was the video from Richard's house, her sucking the demon in front of her husband. She tried and she tried, but no. She turned it off. How could I do that? How could I? It was Henry!

She sat for a long time, stopping only to check her phone for any texts and to look out the front door again, then sat at the couch and typed "addictions" in her search engine. Which brought up links to "sex addiction" and "sex addicts anonymous," and sites that said sex addictions were a myth. She began reading in depth.

*****

It was well past dark when Henry returned. Alice stood awkwardly beside the coffee table until he entered the room, then ran to him. "Henry! Henry!" She tried to hug him, to squeeze him, but he wouldn't let her. He put out both hands and held her off.

"Don't. Don't touch me."

"I'm sorry. I was so worried."

"There was no need to be." He pushed past her and went to his office, with Alice trailing just behind. "I'll be alone if you don't mind."

That wasn't going to work with her.

"Please, Henry. Please. Can't we talk?"

"About what? We've covered about everything."

"Please."

"Aren't you afraid of me now?"

'No."

"Yes you are. You should be. You know how close you came to getting beaten again."

"But it was my fault. I won't do that again."

"It doesn't matter. It doesn't matter the least bit if you were at fault or not. So, you said something mean in a fight. So what? I shouldn't turn into the incredible Hulk. The old tagline: be afraid; be very afraid. It's not a joke. Be very afraid of me."

"Henry, I know what you feel. I know I made you feel inadequate..."

"Fuck you! You don't understand!"

"I do! I hurt you and I hate myself for it. I just want to be with you..."

"You don't understand anything!"

"Maybe not, but--I said I didn't have the right to tell you this, and I don't--but I love you! I'm sorry but I do, and I want to make things better for you."

"Better? You can't do that except by leaving!"

"I've ruined our lives to this point. Please don't turn me out."

She's crying again, the bitch, using those tears, turning the faucet on. Trying to manipulate you, Henry.

"Stop it, God damn it! You don't understand a fucking thing! You think I was just feeling like a pussy because of what you said, but that's only the part of it, not even half of it."

Alice stopped and snarfed. "What's the rest?"

"There's my feelings about you."

"Which are?" She tried out the forbidden phrase aloud, softly, trying it, not sure but hoping it were true. "I know you love me. I know it. I don't deserve it but you do! You're too tender for it to just be kindness. Can't I help you get past it? Can't we help each other?"

"Shut up! You don't know!" There is a flash, just a bit of the beast in his face and in his tone. "You don't know the other. God, I've tried not to love you. I'd loved you in the past but it had turned to hate. Jesus, that was at least easy. Then I felt sorry for you. That wasn't bad. But then the other came back. I didn't want it to."

"Then we..."

"Let me finish!" More of the beast. Alice stepped back half a step.

"I'm sorry."

"Yeah. Me too. Damn you! The other part is how I still hate you!" Alice began to respond. "Don't say anything! Not a word. I thought I was at least over that. I thought I could move on. Shit! It seemed like that. Then it's there again. Everything you did comes back. It can be any time, and I can't stop thinking about it.

"My Alice. Yeah. I forgave you Friday. I thought I had. Then I hadn't. I might think I have, but the hate comes over me anyway. It's here, right now, standing right between us You can almost see it. I want to smash you, but you think we can just go on as though nothing happened. How could you be so cruel? You didn't just leave me for him! There was all the rest. What possessed you? He possessed you. How could you? He sexed you up, that's how. He sexed you up and you liked it so much it was worth killing me for. And that's just what you did. So, you think we can be sweethearts again? Well we can't!"

He got more of that look during the speech, and much more of that voice. The veins on his forehead grew again and his face and he began sweating. Alice didn't move. Little Alice, standing so close to him.

Henry took a large breath. He closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them again he was more Henry and less the other.

"If we were together, I would hurt you. I'd enjoy it. I'd love it. And what about the first time I completely lost control? You know what would happen."

"Like a werewolf." Alice trusted Henry to let her speak. "Only, he killed the innocent, and I'm guilty."

Henry stepped toward her and Alice stepped back. A gasp floated across the room and disappeared. He stopped.

"It's okay. I'm not going to hurt you. I promised you I wouldn't ever hurt you again. Remember?" Alice heard his voice now and his voice when he promised, here, right in this house. Never again. Never again. I promise. She came back to this world and saw Henry, the real Henry, big enough to tower over her, broad enough to block her view. His face was almost all Henry's. The beast was only a hint, a shade. He kissed her on the top of her head. "To keep that promise, I can't be around you too much. So, I'll spend the night in the guest bedroom. It's better that way. Tomorrow, we'll start finding you someplace to stay."

*****

It wasn't to be. Late that night Alice's screaming woke him. "No! Don't! No!"

He knew what it was and staggered half asleep to her room, bumping into walls and doorways and saying "Fuck, Fuck, Fuck," the whole way.

She was twisting and flailing her arms, her hands rolled into fists. "No! No!""

He got on the bed and touched her arm. "Alice! Alice. You're having another nightmare." But she wouldn't stop at first. She hit the bed, hit him, swung at nothing at all. Finally she rolled on her side and opened her eyes and when saw him she looked terrified. "No!" She pounded him with her firsts. "No!"

"Alice. Alice it's me." He grabbed her fists. "It's okay. It's just a dream." He folded her to him, let her push her face against him, and ran his free hand over her back. "It's okay. You're okay."

"I hit you. I'm sorry. I thought you were going to kill me."

"It's okay. No problem. Which dream was it? The belt?"

"No." She stopped because it came back to her. "It was you, but it was different. You were coming to kill me." She shuddered, and it wasn't like her earlier nightmares where she had calmed as she awoke. She couldn't stop shuddering.

"It's okay. I'm not going to kill you. You still have my promise, I'm never going to hurt you. My poor, sleepytime girl. You know that. It's okay." He kept petting her back, then her head, and now she was only shivering. "Maybe we can get you another pill, and I'll stay with you, just in case."

He brought a pill and some water, and he let her lay pressed up against him, but while she grew calm, and sleepy, and then fell asleep dreamlessly, he didn't. He stared at the red dial of the alarm clock and mouthed to himself, over and over, "Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck..."

*****

The morning? Uneventful. Henry would almost oversleep the alarm and Alice would have to wake him in time to be ready for Sherrie. And Sherrie? Nothing happened. There were none of the fireworks that many would like. Sherrie is a good person. She likes role playing with her husband, but she wouldn't act out on Alice. Driving to the doctor's, Alice said:

"Thank you, Sherrie. I appreciate your doing this."

Sherrie didn't answer but just kept driving.

After a bit, Alice tried, "I know you don't like me."

Sherrie sighed and pulled over to the curb. She put the car in 'park.'

"Alice. You don't know how much you hurt Henry, or how fragile he is."

"I do."

"Well, maybe. But I've seen him--at work--staring out his window for hours. I've had to run the office. He's broken, and I don't know how he gets by."

"I know. I've seen it. Up close. I promise, I'll never hurt him again." I mean it, but I keep saying the wrong things. I know you know because you want him for yourself. So, you watch him. I understand that, too.

"Keep this in mind, is all I have to say about it. I liked you before, you and Henry as a couple. But if you hurt him again, I don't know what I would do. I'd make you pay."

"I understand." I do, Sherrie. And you'd have a right.

The rest of the appointment was entirely unexceptional. Alice was fine. Everything was good. There were no infections. There was no systemic disease. She was healing well. She could even have sex again. Ruth brought that point up diffidently, not wanting to disturb Alice, but she had a right to know.