"So," I said, wanting to have a certain level of detachment in place before we started this new game of ours. Taking a deep breath, I continued, "You have already taken my ear, so I think that counts as your pound of flesh. Tell me one reason why you hate me so much."
"Because you are you," replied Pandora with a smirk. That was the thing about Gypsies, we were really good at giving an honest answer without giving an answer at all. There was nothing that I could respond to, so I simply sat here, in a metal folding chair, my hands tied behind my back, and waited for the next thing that she was going to do to me.
I didn't have to wait long. My mother stood up from her chair and walked towards the table that held all of her precious tools. Her back was turned to me so I wasn't able to see what she had picked up. But she didn't keep me in suspense.
In her hand looked like an ice cream scoop, a decent-sized one, but an ice cream scoop nonetheless. Wondering what she was going to do with it, it took me a bit to realize that the edges of the scoop had been filed to a razor-sharp point. "What do you think?" She asked, spinning the scoop in her hand as she looked at me. "Do you think this will give me my pound of flesh?"
I refused to say a word and simply looked at her with a small smile on my face. I would not pander to her. "Always so defiant," she chuckled as she motioned for the rat to hold me down. "Let's see what we can do about that." She placed her right and on my left shoulder and right under my collarbone, and dug the scoop into me. Twisting her wrist in a complete circle, she took out a perfectly round piece of skin and muscle.
I clenched my jaw, refusing to so much as let out a gasp and my monster quickly rose to the surface just enough to dull the pain, but not let my mother know she was there.
"Next reason," I said as soon as I was sure that my voice would be steady. "Mother."
She threw the chunk of my flesh to the floor and turned back to the table, looking at her selections all over again. "Because you lived while Elena died," she said in a distracted tone. I already knew this, so it was not like she was giving me any new information. She had been able to take two chunks of flesh from me without telling me a thing in return.
I forgot that I had to be so damn specific when it came to making a deal.
I could feel Callie wanting to come down from my hair and sew me back together, but I refused to let it. I knew Mother would cut my ribbons to shreds if it meant getting a reaction from me. And I refused to give her that pleasure.
Turning back around from the table, I saw an electric sander in her hand. Sometimes I could really do without certain technological advancements. Like cordless electric sanders. She never would have bothered with this particular form of torture if she had to use sandpaper like in the old days.
Pandora smiled at me, a malicious glint in her eyes, as she pressed the 'on' button. She was still feet away from me, but like I said, always the drama queen. I could hear the whirling of the sandpaper and feel the breeze that it created. With the rat still holding me down, Mother placed her hand on top of my head and turned it so that my cheek was closest to her.
Seeing that I was in the perfect position, she placed the spinning circle onto my cheek and just held it there for a minute. Seeing my blood and tissue flying off my face in the same circular pattern as the head, I felt strangely detached.
My monster was completely taking over my ability to feel pain, and instead, she was pushing a warmth inside me, as if to reassure me that I was not alone in this… that… she was there.
I refused to close my eyes in case Mother would count that as a win for her, but I tried to send back as much love and happiness as I could to my monster.
I wish I would have accepted this part of me a long time ago.
The whirling sound stopped and I turned my head back to look at my mother, my eyebrows raised in a silent question.
Once again turning her back to me and heading towards the table, she gave me her truth. "I hate you because Nicholas loved you."
I had to admit, I was completely stunned when she told me that. Of course, Nicholas loved me, I was his sister. I loved him too… his death, to this day, still continued to haunt me in a way that these torture sessions could never do. But why would she hate me because he loved me?
I refused to let my confusion show on my face or ask her any of the questions swirling in my head. The more I responded to her, the longer she would be entertained… and I have spent enough of my life entertaining Mother.
She was taking longer than usual to choose her next instrument, leaving me to wonder what she had going on in her mind. Seconds turned into minutes before I saw her reaching for something on the far back end of the table. Still unsure what it was, I could only wait for her to turn around and show me.
Looking at what she had in her hands, I wished I was not in that much of a hurry.
I missed the very first witch trials when Heinrich Kramer came out with his Malleus Maleficarum publication, but Mother was an avid fan of the work. Also known as the Hammer of Witches, it explained just how to identify a witch and the different "acceptable" methods of torture that were needed to extract a confession.
I thought Mother read it over and over again simply to understand the thoughts of an enemy… but I was giving her too much credit.
But I digress…
The… thing… that Mother picked off the table, and was planning on using on me, was a product of that wonderful work of fiction…
A Gossip's Bridle…