You are my Edmond Dantes

Chapter four

The shower had felt really good, she felt clean again. She had scrubbed under her finger nails, shampooed her short, spiky hair, buffed her skin, everything and anything to make herself clean again. No more filth, dirt or grime plagued her body, it had disappeared. The stench of months of confinement had been removed, she was finally Evey again.

She began to slather herself with a creamy body lotion; arms, legs, chest. It smelt beautiful, of jasmine and hyacinth laced with lily. It had been left there thoughtfully for her by V, amongst a whole host of other beautification products, probably gained by ill-gotten means. She moisturized herself in front of the huge illuminated mirror in the bathroom, naked and in all her glory. She enjoyed smoothing the silky cream into her skin, her body softening and becoming female once again.

Her glance passed over the mirror as she turned from her right leg to the left, when suddenly she caught sight of herself. She couldn’t believe what she was seeing. Her attention was then immediately directed towards the countless bruises and cuts her body harboured. They were numerous, all over her dainty body, but predominantly her back. She hadn’t realised just how many marks were upon her, she was shocked. She knew she had some injuries but not this many! Some were healing, some fairly fresh, some that ached and some that were sore.

The injuries screamed memories at her, painful ones. He did this you, we exist because he did this to you, they cried out to her. A flashback, it flickered before her; gloved hands beating her, pounding her back and sides with a truncheon. The side splitting pain, she felt like she was on fire. Evey shook her head trying to shift those thoughts. She knew that and didn't need reminding. Besides, that was forgiven now wasn’t it? The injuries would fade in time and be no more, just as the memory of her incarceration would?

She scoured the bathrooms many cabinets to look for some antiseptic spray or anti-inflammatory cream, but she was left wanting. Her ailments needed tending to. Some were a bit painful now. It must have been the overwhelming feelings she had experienced in the last few dats that had made her become oblivious to her condition. She knew when she left her cell she was hungry, tired and broken, but she needed to be with V, that was her only priority. But that priority had changed now to her injuries; they needed attention. I wonder if V would have anything. Wrapping herself up in a dressing gown, Evey made her way from the bathroom in search of her masked lover.

It was cool in the Shadow Gallery, and the chilly temperature bit at her bare ankles like imps with teeth. Her hairless head was cold. The atmosphere was wintry, a sometimes undesirable by product of living underground in a stone palace. Evey wrapped her dressing gown tightly to her trying to keep out the frozen air. She padded silently through the main part of the gallery, her bare feet permitting no sound. Her steps being watched by a thousand painted eyes that hung from every wall. The floor was as cold as a tomb, she lifted herself onto her toes to spare the rest of her foot.

“V?” She called out tentatively, with a shiver in her voice. She could feel goose bumps forming on her forearms.
Suddenly V emerged from the kitchen, his inquisitive head just coming into her view.

“Can you help me V? Do you have anything I can put on my cuts? They’re quite sore in places.”

He strode from the kitchen swiftly over to where Evey stood.

“They’re pretty nasty in places I think, or at least they feel it! Would you have a quick look at them and tell me if you have anything for them?” She asked in a hurry.

“Certainly my dear.”

Evey turned and faced away from V, with her back to him. Ever so slightly, she dropped the dressing gown, revealing her white shoulders and the top of her back. There were a couple of bruises and marks but nothing life threatening. They would fade and she would forget they ever existed.

V shuddered deeply as he ran his eyes over the marks on her alabaster skin. He had memorized every single one, right down to the last scratch. He could probably tell her the date and time he gave each one to her if he wanted to, but he pushed the thought from the forefront of his mind.

“Evey, there are only a few marks, nothing to concern yourself with. They will heal and fade quickly.” Offering his diagnosis to the shivering girl before him, staying his voice the best he could.

“No not there, a little further down, in the middle of my back. Check again.”

She dropped the dressing gown further, below her breasts now, although he couldn’t see them. The gown rested on her hips, exposing her entire back. A chill went down her spine as the cold air clawed at her naked flesh. Casting his eyes south, V saw her injuries. His eyes widened in pure shock. He took a slight step back and bit his lip, drew blood. How could he? How could he have inflicted such injuries to this poor girl? Her back was a map of bruises and small cuts. It looked like she had been beaten by twenty Fingermen. He extended his hand and gently pulled the dressing gown down completely, it flopped lifelessly to the floor, Evey offering no protest. The injuries continued. Her thighs, her calves, a mass of suffering. He must have missed them under her clothing and under the veil of darkness of the cell.

A wave of sickness passed over V as he viewed her skin from behind his mask. He was disgusted with himself, he wanted to die. How could he have done this to her? How could he have inflicted so much pain upon this little creature, his little Evey? He wanted to tear his black heart from his chest, clench it in his fist and feel himself dying. Beneath his mask, his face was hot with never ending shame, utter disgrace and pure ignominy. As he examined Evey, every mark upon her body he remembered giving to her. How he had whipped her and heard her scream; how he had punched her and made her cry; how he had electrocuted her and filled her with sheer terror. Every mark that had befallen her he wanted to befall him with a thousand times the ferocity. He loved this girl so much, how on Earth could he have done this to her? You did it to save her, to free her from fear; he tried to tell himself, but silently he screamed at himself to shut up. He could not justify this, not even to himself, he did not wish to either. He wanted to see what he had done to his little Evey, his darling little Evey. From this moment on his life would be a half-life, a cursed life. He had injured his angel and for this he cursed himself. He looked towards the heavens for redemption, but he saw God scowl and the saints turn their heads in pure disgust. He could wash his hands in every ocean, but never would he clean this sin from his hands. The anger within him boiled violently, he was utterly appalled, he had pure hate for himself.

He wanted to explain himself; he was desperate to offer her some explanation for his actions. He wanted to tell her that all he did to her was for her benefit. But the words did not come; he could not say what was needed.

“V do you have anything for them?” Eveys’ sweet, melodic voice brought him back to his senses again, back to Earth with a crash.

“Yes, as a matter of fact I do Evey. Go wait for me in the bathroom and I shall fetch it for you.” V replied with a heavy heart.
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“Ouccchhh that one’s sore.” Evey whimpered, arching her back and grasping the sides of the sink harder as V smoothed the antiseptic cream into a particularly nasty looking laceration on her side. He jerked his hand away from her skin in the fear of causing even more pain, a tortured look haunted his face beneath the mask.

“A thousand apologies Evey, shall I continue?”

Evey nodded and V carried on applying the pale, acrid smelling cream. His black leather glove lay beside her, discarded in favour of a naked hand so that the application of the lotion may go unhindered. His shame and disgust still etched on his face; he was glad Evey was blindfolded. To date she had not seen him minus his clothing, wig and mask, that would come later. It felt ironic; he caused these injuries and now he was helping to heal them. He did not deserve to touch her though. He had offered to help her apply the cream as some of her injuries were hard to reach alone. Not only was he permitted to help her, to right some of the wrong he did to her, but he was also permitted to see her in all her beautiful and perfect skin, her muscles sninewy and lithe beneathe that milky skin.

‘How helpless we are, like netted birds, when we are caught by desire’ he thought contritely as he gazed upon the blind beauty before him. Her skin was so deliciously smooth, so beautifully milky, just perfect. This moving, breathing, living work of art was here with him now. But he did not deserve this. He did not deserve to touch her, to look at her; even breathe the same air as this seraph. His mind was whirring with all the things he had done to her, all the atrocities he had committed; so many crimes yet no punishment as befitting as the one handed to him now. To have in front of him every day, a living reminder of what he had done to her in that cell. V felt sick to his stomach, he knew the true meaning of shame. He had to explain this to her. She had to know why he had done this. This poor girl, taken from the doldrums of her cell and thrust into an overindulgent world of lust, passion and obsession. He could not contain it any more. He pulled his hand back swiftly and wiped away the residue of the cream. Replacing his glove, he decided that he must say something to Evey or risk losing his mind to torment.

“Does it look better V? Did you put it on all over?” Evey asked, still blindfolded.

“Yes, I should imagine they should start healing a little bit better now.” V draped the dressing gown around her shoulders until she was fully covered. She carefully untied the blindfold and turned to thank V again. But something was wrong, despite the mask concealing his face; she could sense something was amiss. His mood had changed, his expression darkened she felt. The mask was smiling but the man it hid was not. There was something wrong.

“V are you okay? Is something the matter?” She asked suspiciously.

Beneath the mask, V let slip a small sigh, undetectable to Evey. He had to do this; he was rotting from the inside out, he could feel his heart shrivelling up. He just had to explain to Evey why he had done what he had done to her. He could not continue this with her until she knew the full truth, something she seemed to have glazed over so well.

“Evey, would you join me in the television room? There are a few things I need to discuss with you, if that is okay with yourself of course?”

“Yeah sure, I’ll go put some proper clothes on and I’ll be with you in a minute.” She smiled as slipped out of the door.

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A few minutes later Evey emerged. Remembering how cold the gallery was, she had wrapped herself up this time, dressed properly. She caught sight of V who was fingering the Wurlizter with his defined back turned to her. She smiled at him, although he couldn’t see her.

“What song are you going to put on then V?” She enquired playfully. “Maybe Frank Sinatra? Or perhaps UB40? Or even the Righteous Brothers?”

Righteous. The word resonated around V’s mind; certainly not a word one could use to describe him or his actions of late. He turned slowly and gazed upon Evey with sad eyes and a heavy heart. Evey, poor sweet Evey. Of all his many wonders and treasures in his Shadow Gallery, none were more lovely or precious as the jewel that stood before him. He would trade them all to keep her safe from the world and its perils. But who would save her from him? Who could save her? After all, he was a terrorist, a marked man, a murderer. There was no place in heaven beside her for him now, not after all he had done.

“No songs today Evey, I have no taste for music.” He lamented.

“V, I know something’s wrong, I can feel it. I might not be able to see it on that smiling mask of yours but I can bloody well sense something isn’t right.” Evey folded her arms across her chest, waiting for him to answer.

“Then you have sensed correctly, something is amiss my little Evey.”

“What is it?” Evey’s voice pensive.

V paused, hesitated. Where to begin? From the start, the very beginning of it all. V inhaled deeply and launched into his speech.

“When I first encountered you Evey, you were so different to how you are now. Frightened, fear gleaming in your eyes……” He was cut off abruptly.

“Well having three Fingermen about to rape you will do that to a girl!” She laughed nervously. V obviously not amused.

“Evey please.” He paused. “I do not mean just in the alley. I mean your entire life, your demeanour, the way you walked, they fashion in which you talked, your mannerisms. You were terrified, it echoed from you in legions. Even after I saved you, brought you here and took care of you, that crippling fear was still present. It became completely apparent when you fled from Bishop Lilliman’s room, fleeing in sheer panic. When Creedy’s men came to Gordon Dietrich’s home and black bagged him. When you escaped out of the window in horror, in fear. Your whole life; lived on a basis of terror, your world dictated by trepidation and apprehension of the worst.”
V turned to face Evey now, his gloved hands folded neatly behind his back. He could see her mood change, her smile drop to a void. He continued.

“And I captured you, oh you were so afraid, so genuinely terrified Evey; the fear etched onto your face. I saw your pain, your suffering, your need for escape, but I did nothing. I simple held you against your will in a dark, friendless world with the belief that you would die.”

“Why are you saying this V? Why are you telling me such things?” Evey said her tone lower now, agitated.

“Because Evey you need to know. You need to know what I did to you and why I did it. You came from your cell and reacted in such a way I did not expect. I was prepared for a duel; a skirmish of words and a flurry of female anger. Prepared for you to hate me and wish for my demise, for you to leave me alone in this gallery. But you stunned me. You responded in a manor that I could not have ever imagined. You came from your incarceration; broken, bloodied and bruised. You saw that it was I whom had tortured you, broken you and kept you by force. I whom had threatened you with death, I hurt you in unimaginable ways. After all I have done to you..." He wavered. "...and it burns Evey; deep inside me I feel the fire raging. My body was once ravaged by the red flame and now I can feel my insides being set alight by your forgiveness, your kindness. I cannot live any longer, knowing what I did you without offering some form of explanation for my hideous actions.”

Evey stood in shock. Such words from his mouth she did not expect to hear. Why was he raking all this up? Why now? Why was he reopening healing wounds? She fidgeted in obvious agitation, shifting her weight from left to right and then back again. Her gaze darting from portrait to statue. She was becoming increasing annoyed, but she remained silent.

“Evey you do not understand why I did what I did to you; my actions cannot pass by simply without an explanation. This exercise was to free you Evey, to free you from fear. I held you in one cell, to free you from the one you have lived in since before you can probably recollect. I stripped you of your dignity just as this government has. I beat you and hurt you just as you have been beaten and hurt all your life. I burned you, I electrocuted you, and I beat you so hard. I starved you, I spat upon you, and I laughed in your face. I have brandished you with scars and cuts, a reminder of your hell. I watched all hope and optimism drain from you as it had done so many years ago. When I threatened to kill you unless you relinquished my location and identity, you refused. You continued this far longer than I had expected you to. You resisted for so long Evey, I was so proud. And even at the very end of it all, with your execution so close you could touch it, you still refused to reveal any information about me. You stated you would rather die. In doing so Evey Hammond, you accepted your death, ergo accepted that you had no fear. If one does not fear death then what does one have to fear? I have freed you Evey, freed you so that you may once again look at his world through clear eyes and not through the mist that had shrouded them. Freed you so that you may once again live without pain and that constant fear of what may occur next.” V sighed now. “I realise that I have given you a lot of information to comprehend, but I need to know, do you understand me Evey?” V felt like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders; no longer did he feel like Atlas must have done so many thousands of years ago.

Evey was stood very still now; she offered neither movement nor any sound. Her face offered no emotion, no smile nor any frown. Her stillness was eerie; she resembled a granite statue, cold and passionless. She had lost that youthful parlour, only for it to be replaced by a grey veil. She was struggling to process the information offered to her, it showed in her eyes; they were searching, anywhere, anything. Her brain ached, it hurt with such intensity that she felt like her brain would explode.

She was trying to forgive him and was silently trying in vain to forget what he had done to her. Why was he going over all this again? Why bring it all back into the fore front of her mind? Was he satisfying his own need for redemption? Off loading his guilt onto her so that he may feel absolved of sin?

She knew what V had done to her; she had experienced it first hand. All those long lonely months spent in a cell with no hope of escape, no chance of reprieve. All the beatings, never ending starvation and the pain, that burning pain that consumed her very soul. The constant fear of the door opening and someone walking into her cell to tell her she was about to die. Feeling everything inside her that was human and loving die a sad, extended death. But somehow it didn’t seem real, like she had imagined it and it was a disturbed and twisted figment of her imagination. Like she had never been there, never felt any of it. Like she had read it one of V’s many ancient books. It was like she was reading another girl’s agonising memoirs. But to have him, her torturer, her one true tormentor explain what he had done and why he had done hit her hard. It hit her right between the eyes and it stunned her. All those things. All that malice he had poured onto her, all that persecution he had subjected her to. The constant cruelty, anguish and torment he had showered her with. It all became very real. To hear it spew forth from his lips made it true, it had happened and it had happened to her. She had glazed over it. She had forgiven him, hadn’t she? Pushed it to one side and dusted over it with the joy of being released and seeing V again.

V took a few steps forward and extended his hand to touch Evey’s right arm. Her face was devoid of emotion as she pulled back away from him, not permitting him to touch her. She wanted to cry, wanted to weep for all her suffering and all that she had been through. Wanted to hang her head and put her face in her hands and let all that sadness escape through her eyes. To feel the hot, salty tears wash down her face. She wanted to scream at the top of her lungs so that the whole world would know her pain. She wanted to scream into that mask, let all her rage and anger go. She wanted to claw at him and hurt him as he had hurt her. She wanted to throw herself into a fit of pure rage and hatred so he would know the turmoil within her. But she was strong now; she would not cry nor scream nor hate. After all, V had taught her to live without fear and pain now, and that is what she would do.

“I’d like to go outside now V.” She spoke, her voice soft and seemingly carefree.

“Certainly Evey, we can onto the roof and take the morning air.” His spirits lifted momentarily. But the little seraph broke his optimism.

“No V. I want to go outside, onto the streets, and I want to go alone.”

V knew he was powerless to stop her. He could contain her no longer, he had no right to. She was entitled to join the living world above when ever she saw fit, even if he prayed she would not. His angel, his little Evey was slipping between his finger and he could do nothing to pull her back. He knew his words would be empty and his emotion lost on the seething girl that stood in the middle of the Shadow Gallery. There he stood, deathly still; wig immaculate, clothing crisp and his mask permanently smiling. But beneath it the man was weeping, silently with dry tears.

V moved swiftly and unhooked Evey’s small black jacket from the coat peg by the door. Remorsefully he handed it to her, lingering a little too long when she took it in her hands, hoping to brush his leather finger against hers.

“I am sorry Evey, truly sorry. I hope you can forgive me.” V knew there were no words he could offer her that could improve the sorry situation.

Evey didn’t even seem to acknowledge his words, she just turned and headed towards the door. V shuddered and hung his head in sorrow as he heard it close behind her.