Authors: A L Gray
Your obsession lives on.
Haunted by her desires and abandoned because of her innocence, Anile is forced to face the waking day solo. Elijah has left her infinitely and utterly alone. His absence grows painfully inside her.
Elijah is also struggling with his feelings. He's trying to balance his dark possessing desires and his emotional connection to Anile, but at what cost?
Anile may have hope of rekindling her obsession but how long does she have to wait? And what games will she be forced to endure to prove her trust to Elijah?
While suffering mental pain because of Elijah's tormented past, Anile fights on. She will struggle throughout the coming weeks but she has hope that she can save Elijah from his dark self.
Is he worth her humanity, her innocence, her personal identity?
This edition published worldwide in 2014 by - writer/author, A L Gray
Written by A L Gray
by A L Gray
All rights reserved.
All rights reserved.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means without the prior permission in writing of the publisher, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.
This is for your use only, at no point can you re-submit or share this edition.
verified by A L Gray -
Writer and owner, Anita Leanne Gray, in England.
I want to solely dedicate Volume 2 to a man that has taken me on as his own daughter. Peter, you and I don't always see eye to eye but I know you love me, as I do you. I want to thank you for everything you have done for me. You have supported me, you have helped me with all my goals in life and I am forever grateful. No one has ever taken care of me the way you have. I will love you always - as my father.
Forever in my Memory
A Personal Line Dedication To My Dear Friend
you know why
- my angel in the sky -
I will never forget you and I will love you forever
IT WAS NOT LONG
before the man came back from his journey, and the first things which he asked for were the key and the egg. She gave them to him, but she trembled as she did so, and he saw at once by the red spots that she had been in the bloody chamber. "Since thou hast gone into the room against my will," said he, "thou shalt go back into it against thine own. Thy life is ended." He threw her down, dragged her thither by her hair, cut her head off on the block, and hewed her in pieces so that her blood ran on the ground. Then he threw her into the basin with the rest.
TO BE CONTINUED
I SIT FOR HOURS
contemplating my decisions for the future; I have no idea how my life has spiralled out of control so rapidly. Desire, obsessions, lust, they are all dangerous in the right situation and I have succumb to them all.
Elijah has locked me in this room - The Verboten Room. He demanded I stay and await his driver to take me home. I have no choice but to wait, alone. I gather my clothes and dress myself on wobbly legs, hoping I will not have to wait much longer.
All senses of erotica left with Elijah. All that's left is the sheer coldness of the grey stone walls. They are lifeless, dead even, and it feels as though nothing has ever lived in here – the sinister aura I sense is almost too much to bear. Elijah told me that he sometimes sleeps in here. I find it hard to believe that someone would sleep in such an aloof place, but, Elijah is cold - his emotions match the grey stone walls.
I pace around the room unsettled, touching the instruments and sort of admire people who truly have the guts to take a leap and unleash their darkest desires. Everything reminds me of what BDSM would be like; the gags, that Basque, and even the white whips that I'm sure Elijah has beaten women with. The knives sort of freak me out, I cannot digest them.
I wonder what makes people want to practice control within this environment? I have issues regarding my mother's illness and my father's evilness but I would never release my demons in this kind of manner - would it even be safe for someone like me to test myself like this?
Eventually I sit defeated in my pool of thoughts and wonder, maybe I truly am the problem here; it's not normal for women of my age to be virgins, is it?
The door knocks, instantly grabbing my attention.
"Miss Gooden, is it okay to enter?" Elijah's driver asks in a low distant voice through the thick solid door.
I walk and stand beyond the threshold annoyed.
"There is no need to enter. Please could you take me home?"
He unlocks the door and the loud click of the key echoes throughout the room, causing a sensation of uneasiness to pool around inside my body.
"Of course, Miss." He gestures with pity. He knows what has happened, I know he does. His eyes are full of rue; his face tells me that he's truly sorry for what has happened to me. I shake myself clean of this tarnished memory and walk out of this erotic yet sinister room.
I walk through the small purple lobby with the knives above the doors and into the vast hall with my head held high. It's so dark in here. I gaze up, desperate for some light; all I can see are the low red lights that are perfectly hung high on the walls. The sweeping staircase, the stunning wooden panelling, the artwork, it's all purblind to me. The red lights show me to the exit so I walk a little faster. Elijah's driver follows from behind me. He's quiet, and rightfully so.
While walking through the dark Masonic lobby, I see the Aphrodite mannequin dressed women on their rounded white pedestals. Their pedestals are low lit with white neon lights below their feet - their light does not fill the hall though, it only illuminates their appearance. All twelve of them stare dumbfounded at my escorted exit, and I am now the one who stares with pity - not them. These poor, poor programmed courtesan women will be ruined without even realizing. A wrenching ache fills my chest when I see their expressions of sadness - I need to get out of here, now!
Once we reach the huge double front doors, I almost take one last glance at the house of hell but I immediately stop myself. This is ludicrous and I'm better than this - so are all the women stuck or forced inside and I only wish I could help them, but I know better.
I push the doors open and stumble outside onto the stoned driveway. I inhale deeply while clutching at my knees. The country air is fresh, revitalizing. I need this; I need to feel the open space. It's cold and damp out here, the evening air is bone deep, and it sends a deep chill down my spine. I stand up straight and wrap my arms around myself. The dawn is upon us, I can almost feel the warmth from the sun. I raise my face to meet the sun, I inhale again.
The driver opens the back passenger door for me. I breathe a chest heavy *sigh* and take my last few steps from this dark memory. I slide in and relish in the safety of the car. The smell of lemon polish lingering on the leather seats hits me like a ton of bricks.
"Elijah." I whisper to myself. I feel my eyes well up. I cannot believe this is really happening.
The driver gets in and steals a quick glance in my direction. I smile weakly at him. I'm grateful, utterly, utterly grateful that he came for me. Now I never have to look back, I never have to see this horrid house ever again. I can move forward and make some serious decisions regarding my life - firstly, I need to stop being so damn naive.
Once we enter London, to me, everything seems different. It's not busy because it's the early hours in the morning and everything appears clear and focused, but the life that should ooze from the great city seems non-existent; or maybe it just seems this way because of how I feel. I watch the few people that are still wondering the streets – seeing myself in them all - and wonder if they have ever been in this situation, if they have ever been so taken with a man that they would ultimately try and do anything, no matter how frightened they were? Some probably have, some probably haven't, but, I know I will never find someone who would speak of such things because, I wouldn't, I'm too ashamed, and I imagine others in my predicament would feel ashamed to. It's strange how we see ourselves in others so easily - even strangers - especially when we are feeling low.
We arrive at my apartment and I'm thankful, appreciative. My dark and clouded memories can stay at bay for a while because I'm now disconnected from Elijah and hopeful that I can temporarily erase him from my mind. I doubt I will be successful though - I know within no time at all I will be forcing myself back to fight for my job. But hope is a gift to us all, and it keeps us going I suppose.
This is not like me but rude or not, I get out of the car without so much as a thank you. I now feel safe, I'm home. London is cold, colder than the countryside - strangely so. While I watch Elijah’s driver pull away from the curb, I now feel bad for not expressing any gratitude to him for collecting me from that horrible house. Because he has a connection to Elijah, I'm childishly taking my anger out on him in perfect woman form - indefinite silence.