The Mariner (20 page)

“You’re the doctor, you tell me.”

“It’d be nice wouldn’t it? To cure addiction by imagination? But sadly there are limits to my beta-blockers. When you conjure something in your mind you are accessing neural pathways that are already there, not being written. Beta-blockers modify neural connections as they’re made, not after. If the pill is to work, you have to be indulging the addiction, not just evoking it.”

Tetrazzini shifted closer to the Mariner, so much so he could smell coffee on the man’s breath.

“You are special, my friend. I believe you hold the key to what has been happening to all of us, and with your help we will unlock those secrets. But to do that you must first be rid of these addictions. You must. It is for the greater good.”

The Mariner agreed hesitantly, not quite understanding what Tetrazzini was hinting at.

“So you see, it’s important you follow the course of treatment for both your addictions. Take the pill, indulge, and eventually you’ll be the master.”

His eyes widened as he understood what the doctor was suggesting. “You want me to...?”

“I’m not telling you to do anything,” Tetrazzini quickly replied. “But if you want to be free of this compulsion, if you want to be assured you never have to do it again, if you want to forget these terrible things you’ve done, then this is the only way.”

The Mariner’s mind was reeling. Was it true? Was this the road to salvation?

Sensing hesitation, Tetrazzini repeated the mantra. “It’s the only way.”

20
BITTER/SWEET MEDICINE

B
ETH
M
ASTERSON LEFT
T
ETRAZZINI’S CLINIC
for the last time, stepping lightly down the many stairs that wound their way into Sighisoara. Her satchel contained a small collection of paperback novels, a diary, two changes of clothes and some basic food, nothing more than biscuits and a flask of juiced tomatoes. Tetrazzini had managed to procure her lodging and employment at the town’s orchard, good work in a world of uncertainty.

Above her, heavy clouds cast intermittent shadows across the steps. It were the first hint of poor weather they’d had in weeks, though after so much sunshine, it was welcome. Clouds meant rain, and rain meant crops; fruit would need picking, plants nurturing. Yes, there would be plenty of work for her to do. God Bless Tetrazzini; he’d given her a new life, something to embrace.

Despite the downward trajectory of her journey, Beth felt lighter with every step.

And somewhere behind, the Mariner followed.

He tried to keep to the shadows whilst appearing casual, nervous that if seen he mustn’t appear like a predator. The response of the townsfolk was a concern, there had been a lot of deaths attributed to him since his arrival. There would undoubtedly be dark feelings abound; he should stay concealed lest he provoke a bitter confrontation.

With every sly step, the pills in his pocket rattled within their capsule, the gentle taps a reminder of his intent. He was nauseous with dread, though even this emotion was a mask. Beneath, his heart raced at the prospect. He no longer had to fight his demons. Now they could be set free.

He checked his gun - the Mauser. It felt good in his hand. He didn’t plan on using it beyond threats and coercion, but it was a welcome security nonetheless. As yet he hadn’t seen another gun within Sighisoara and this power should allow him... indulgence.

Daydreams of how it would play out began flitting through his mind. It shocked him at first, just how easily thoughts of sexual violence filled his consciousness the second he allowed them in. The taboo made his pulse quicken and penis harden. Would he reveal his identity, or blindfold her eyes? Force compliance through threat, or restraint? He liked the idea of her arms bound and body vulnerable to his touch, but there was also a certain thrill from her acting of her own volition, reluctantly servicing his needs under threat of pain.

“Oh it’s you. Heading into town as well?”

Her voice shook the Mariner from his sordid reverie. Beth was standing a little way off, looking at him. A hand was raised to shield her eyes from the glare of the clouds above, still bright despite the setting sun.

“I’m just on my way to check on the ship,” the Mariner lied. “There were vandals yesterday. I must keep a closer watch.”

Beth nodded. “A big old ship like that must attract a lot of attention.”

He agreed, and Beth looked around, seemingly relaxed in his presence. He found himself wondering how her cunt tasted. “Would you like to walk with me?”

Utterly perplexed as how to proceed, the Mariner accepted her invitation and took to her side. They strolled, leaving the sloping stairs behind and entering the uppermost of Sighisoara residences.

“So you’re cured then?” he said, trying to make conversation. “Congratulations.”

“Yes, it’s truly amazing. I think back to just a couple of months ago and life was so different. I was an addict in complete denial.”

“How so?”

“I thought the cutting was something I had to do, rather than something I chose to do.”

The pair passed through a stone archway, wooden doors long since pilfered. Perhaps they’d been burned for warmth or converted into a table, but whoever the thief, all that remained was a tunnel of stone leading to a further slope and larger section of buildings below.

All was quiet, the only sounds that of their feet upon the cobbles and the seagulls soaring above.

“Why cut? I understand why I’m addicted to alcohol. It helps me forget. But cutting?”

“What are you drinking to forget?”

“Me. This. Everything.” He shrugged as if what he was saying was plainly obvious. “But cutting wouldn’t achieve anything like that. So how can you become addicted to something that has such little effect?”

“You’d be surprised,” Beth replied with a sigh. “Cutting does make you forget. While you’re in pain you don’t remember hurtful thoughts and painful memories. They’re still there, but the pain focuses them into that one spot. It’s as if the act of self-harm drags the pain from your head and into the wound. You distract yourself with booze. My method was no different.”

It seemed to make a grim sort of sense to the Mariner. A
familiar
sense. He remembered his experience with the eels, how he’d come to mutilate himself to dull the lust that threatened to drive him insane. Oh yes, Beth’s approach made sense all right.

“It’s logical in a completely insane way.” Beth sighed again, shaking her head at the nonsense of her own life. Mind still locked in lust, he wondered if she’d make a similar sound when penetrated.

“And the pills helped?”

“Oh yes.” Beth brightened up at the mention of treatment. “They’re amazing. Little by little the compulsion lessened until I realised I didn’t want to cut at all.”

“But what if your hurtful thoughts come back? What then?”

“Maybe if they get bad enough I’ll cut. But I’ll take a pill while I do it to make sure the habit doesn’t return. Cutting’s now a tool at my disposal, whereas I used to be the tool for it. You get my meaning?”

The Mariner did. Tetrazzini had expressed the same sentiment repeatedly.

“Here we are,” said Beth, stopping in the street. “Your ship’s that way, my new home the other.”

He glanced along both streets, concerned that she might evade him if he didn’t follow to her new lodgings. Fortunately the streets were empty and darkening.

“I’ll accompany you a bit longer, there are plenty of undesirables in this town.”

“Ain’t that the truth? I heard about what happened to Rebecca. How awful. I’m so glad you were with her. She should have known better than to go to a place like that.”

“I should have done more,” he said sadly, though in his heart he wasn’t sure if he meant to help, or... the alternative.

Beth seemed to assume he meant the more savoury option, and tried to reassure him, caressing his arm. “You did all you could.” He shuddered lightly at her touch, enjoying the warmth of her fingers.

She wants it
, his mind whispered.
It can hardly be a crime if she wants it.

But did she? He stared at her face, those warm brown eyes, and wondered just where reality ended and his lust began?

Her hand was still on his arm, holding him slightly as they walked. Was this her way of being forward? Thoughts of placing his arm arm around her were weighed up in his mind. If he did, perhaps she would pull even closer? Perhaps then he could slide his hand down and caress the curves of her behind?

But then she let go and resumed their previous distance. The Mariner’s heart was thudding, his nerves plaguing every thought.

“Do you plan on staying in Sighisoara?” she asked him, unaware of the battle of urges raging inside her escort.

“For a while. The doctor has a whole plan laid out for my recovery, and it might take some time.”

“Well stick with it,” she assured him. “Do everything he tells you to, the man’s a genius.”

“Yes, I think I will,” the Mariner replied, his lust surging. “And I agree. He certainly is.”

“And this is home,” she said as they arrived at a large farm-like building. “Behind it is the orchard where I’ll work, from now until
whenever
.”

“What do you get in return?”

“A meal and a bed. As far as I’m concerned that’s a bloody good deal.”

“You plan on staying here indefinitely?”

“Where else would I go? This is the closest thing to the old world I’ve found. Do you know of anywhere like it?”

The Mariner had to admit he didn’t. Never before had he found a community as built up as this.

“Tell you what,” she continued. “If you find Manchester out there, come back and get me.”

He nodded, although he’d never heard of the place.

“It was a pleasure to see you again, Mr..?”

Embarrassed by the situation, the Mariner could only shake his head. “I don’t know. Sorry.”

“Oh well. Keep your secrets then. If you decide to share, perhaps you’d like to drop by sometime?”

“I’d like that.”

With goodbyes said, Beth fished a large key out of her pocket and stubbornly worked its way into the wooden door. With a shy and self-conscious glance back, she entered, closing it behind her, the sound of the lock turning a false chime to her safety.

Inside he could hear voices, no doubt her new landlord and employer listing the household rules. The Mariner listened for a moment and reluctantly decided to go for a stroll. It would do no good to strike so soon, he would have to wait for the house to settle.

He made his way down the street, marking the journey in his mind, keen not to lose his bearings. About him the town seemed silent, yet there were still signs of life. Candles were lit within homes creating thin strips of warmth between shutters. Wedged between the houses of Sighisoara, the Mariner felt as if he were once more within the make-do world of the Neptune, rather than in the comfort of Tetrazzini’s rehab centre, an abode otherworldly in its excess.

Despite no longer being able to see Beth, the Mariner trembled with excitement. It had been a long time since he’d laid with a woman. He tried to remember any previous acts of intimacy, to recall the sensation, but an era of frustration separated him. He supposed at one time he could have been attracted to a woman out of respect, perhaps his cock might have stirred from admiration, but now the idea seemed too pale, too childish, too bland for his tastes.

No. No admiration was necessary. He did not need to respect the woman he fucked, unless it was a respect he could tear down and defile. He would trample her pride, jizz on her dignity, make her understand that he was the master and she a place to shove his cock. She would bleed, she would scream. At first it would be from pain, but eventually, he was sure, it would be because she enjoyed it...

Unable to control his lust much longer, the Mariner ducked into an alley and began rubbing his crotch through his thick trousers. His penis strained against the fabric, quickly becoming sore from the exertion. Transient fantasies ran before his mind, luring his want further. They emerged and dissipated seemingly as quick as each stroke of his hand. In one, Beth was pressed up against a wardrobe, her face against the wood, whilst he sodomised her from behind, clutching her hair in one hand, the other clasped about her waist. In another, her hands were tied behind her back whilst he thrust into her mouth, making her eyes water as he sank further and further into her throat. And in another he was wrapping his hand about her neck, choking as he fucked.

With a frustrated grunt, the Mariner ceased his masturbation. He wasn’t going to let himself come in his pants. Not with a doctor’s instruction to indulge.

He swayed on his feet, hips gently thrusting into the air, still intoxicated by the fantasies fresh in his mind. He had to have her. He had to break her.

The Mariner stumbled out the alley and, as quickly as his erection would allow, made his way back to Beth’s new home.

All was silent in the large farmhouse. The Mariner was aware of the risk, this building was probably home to at least twenty people, both masters and workers. If he slipped and allowed Beth to scream, all would be lost. They would disturb and ruin everything.