Pain and Possession

Gradually the days dragged into week and the weeks into months and the search for Riddick lagged and lagged until it lost all of it momentum and then stopped. Caron was once again able to fade into obscurity and for that she was grateful. During all that time not once had she seen or heard any sign of Riddick and she silently prayed every night that he had forgotten them.

It was not to be, he showed up late one night as she was putting Rick to bed. He had hidden himself in the shadows of the darkened room so she had not known he was there until he had decided to show himself.

It was all so sudden. One minute it was just her and her child and the next she was staring across the bed at his dark imposing figure. Her heart rate doubled at the sight of him and her breath stopped short in her throat as fear clutched her heart in its firm grasp. His goggles were resting on his shaven head and his shined eyes gleamed brightly at her bereft of any emotion. Caron stared at him, like a snake did a mongoose, hypnotized, unable to look away though she desperately desired to.

A part of her welcomed the sight of him, to that part he was Richard, the man she vowed to always love no matter what. To that part there was no such being as Riddick. Another part of her hated him with every fiber of her being and wished the most horrible death she could imagine upon him. She hated being torn.

Still staring silently at him, waiting for him to move, Caron gasped as he suddenly swayed and clutched his side. It was then she noticed the sticky wetness on the side of his shirt and the jagged gash it surrounded. He was hurt.

Finally he spoke, “I need a needle and some antiseptic…” his voice was slightly unsteady but his eyes were unwavering upon hers.

“You’re hurt” she said in a quiet shocked voice he’d always seemed invincible to her.

An eyebrow arched her stating of the obvious but he said nothing else. Caron got the impression that it caused him no small amount of pain to stand there and talk to her. She debated on whether she should help him or call the cops. In the state that he was in he was not much of a threat to anyone, the police would be able to over power him and he would be sent back to jail once again.

Her thoughts must have shown on her face because his eyes narrowed and in a low growl that raised the hair on her arm he said, “I won’t hesitate to kill you this time”.

She let out a tremulous breath and without another word hastened to do what he asked of her. Opening the medicine cabinet in her bathroom she pulled down the only antiseptic she carried, alcohol, and dragged her feet back to her son’s room.

He was not in there anymore and a sick feeling told her he was in the place she held private. Entering her room she found him sitting on her bed with his shirt off. A flash of hate and resentment for him flash through her strongly and she wanted nothing more at the moment to kill him wither bare hands. He had invaded her body and her life, now he was invading the private sanctum she held sacred for herself.

Riddick smiled inside himself, he could feel the loathing she had for him emanating off her in angry waves. He didn’t care, he loved her hatred of him, it mirrored the way he felt for her. His hate for her throbbed in synch with the pain of his wound. A wound he had gotten by being careless.

“This is all I have” she said woodenly coming over to his side reluctantly, she wanted nothing to do with him...

Barely sparing her a glance he took the alcohol from her and opened it, pouring it directly onto his wound hissing on contact, “I need some gauze or cloth or whatever the fuck you have around here… and bring the damn needle when you get back.”

Caron left without a word and was back with the things he requested in no time. She handed to him sullenly.

“You’re gonna have to patch this up for me” he told her, “Try anything and I’ll rip your throat out…”

Caron swallowed and looked at the jaggedly torn flesh and turned gray. It looked awful. He had cleaned up most of the blood but it was still weeping a bit and it glistened wetly at her.

“I can’t” she whispered, feeling sick.

“Yes you can and you will” his voice held no sympathy for her plight. He lifted his arm and gave her a steady gaze that told her he was ready.

Biting her lip she took the needle in her trembling hands and after a few unsuccessful attempts finally threaded it. She blanched when she bent and got a close look at his torn skin. There was no way she could do this. Dropping the needle she backed away shaking her head.

“I’m sorry” she murmured and then rushed into the bathroom to retch.

Riddick was annoyed and yet amused at her reaction. She had always been the kind to get sick at the sight of blood or gore. Realizing he would have to do it himself he picked up the needle from where she had dropped it and started to work on his own flesh.

Caron came out the bathroom moments later and tried to leave the room when she saw that he was doing it himself.

“Stay” he barked, not trusting her.

“I want to check on Rick” she said softly.

After a moment’s hesitation he nodded his permission.

The minute she was out of his sight she headed into the kitchen and without hesitation she grabbed a sharp knife from out of the drawer. She had to get rid of him and there was no better time than the present. Slipping it in the front of the pants she wore and covering it with her shirt she softly entered her bedroom, praying that her nervousness didn’t give her away.

His back was to her as he concentrated on sewing his flesh back together. “How is he?” he rumbled not looking up at her.

“He’s sound asleep” she pulled the knife slowly out of her pants, praying he kept his head down and his back to her. All she needed was one swift thrust in the center of his back and it would be over.

The knife was raised now and she crept steadily behind him, trying not to make even the slightest sound as she made ready to kill him. Her breathing sounded loud and heavy to her ears so she held her breath.

His back was in front of her now, in plain view, looking so tempting in its broad bronze perfection. It was now or never she told herself and with a sharp intake of breath she brought the knife down with all the fury and hate and pain within her heart. Crying out with joy and sorrow at the deed she abouabout to commit.

His head came up at the last second and he twisted smoothly whipping his arm around to catch hers in a bone crushing grip as it came down in the space where his back had been mere seconds ago. The momentum of her thrust threw her off balance and she fell face down across the bed. He was on her in a flash.