Object, Victim, Rose
an excerpt

Em sits on the ground, waiting for me, holding a long-stemmed red rose.

“Hello,” she says. “What would you like to do? Anything in particular?”

I don't answer for a moment. I look at my feet. For a few seconds, I imagine them bleeding. Blood tricking between my toes.

“Is that what you want, or are you just thinking of it?” Em asks pleasantly. “I can make that happen if it's what you want.”

“I asked you not to do that,” I murmur, sitting down beside her. “I don't think I want my feet to bleed. That would be uncomfortable even when I didn't want it to be uncomfortable anymore.” I examine my fingernails. Mine are clipped short – a necessity, because I play a stringed instrument. Em has longer fingernails than I do. She needs longer fingernails, I suppose, for some of the things she does.

“I brought you a flower,” Em says sweetly. She places the red rose in my hand. As usual, she's held it without any real regard for the thorns on the stem, and the palm of her hand drips a little blood, though of course not a drop falls onto her dress. It's really too cold to wear that dress. I take the rose from her a little more carefully than she was holding it. I don't want to hurt myself by accident. The rose is pretty, though, and it has a nice scent. “Now, what is it that you want us to do?” She smiles at me, knowingly.

“Isn't it always your choice?” I ask. She hasn't ever asked me before, certainly.

“This is different,” Em replies, smiling.

“It is and it isn't,” I tell her, looking at my feet. They're bleeding. No, they aren't. There is no reason they should be, and they aren't. I look at Em, who's smiling broadly. “If that's you, stop it.”

“Certainly,” she replies. My feet tingle. Itch. Are merely cold. “Would you like some sandals?”

“Now you're just trying to screw around with my head,” I say, softly. “Take me somewhere.”

Em smiles. “A request. Take you somewhere. I think we'll go to my place and... relax awhile. Doesn't that sound nice, my pet?”

“Relax,” I murmur. “Please.”

Em laughs. I wish I was disturbed by that laugh, but it means that I'm getting what I really want, even if I am a little ashamed of what I really want. It's not real, after all. Why shouldn't I have it if it isn't real?