Glass Music
A story about obsessive love and discovering your own lies.
Chapter One
Charlotte jumped to her feet with relief when she saw the doorknob turn. The door was pulled back with a gust of wind and there, standing in the doorway was Wolfe, the way she remembered him with his transparent skin and a false innocence.
'Oh Wolfe! Thank goodness. I've been trapped in here all night!' She was exhausted from a restless night and she blinked back tears of relief.
'Oh you silly thing. Don't worry, I'm here now.' Wolfe reached out to hug her, his forearms like steel pipes, and stroked her back. The hug was intimate yet stiff and Charlotte awkwardly reciprocated. She leaned her torso away slightly to look him in the eye before pressing a short kiss on his lips.
'Can we get out of here now?' Charlotte looked toward the door which swung closed again. 'Oh no! Shit. Now we're both trapped in here!'
'Shhh. It's all okay.' He stroked her hair with his palm, using more pressure than was comforting. He twirled a section of her hair around his fingers and grabbed it tightly. Charlotte giggled enjoying his attention and his attempt at rough play and wondered if it was foreplay or affection.
'Seriously Wolfe, I am exhausted. Can we go back to my place and eat nachos in bed?'
'No.'
'Okay then, we'll get pizza.'
'I mean no, you're not going anywhere.'
'Oh come on Wolfe, let me go home, shower, and then you can do whatever you want to me.'
'You're not listening to me Kitten. You're mine now. This is your home.'
'Ew. No, it's not Wolfe. Let’s just get back to mine. Please. I just need to be in my own bed.'
'I said no!' He yanked the handful of hair so hard that it stung Charlotte's scalp and she squealed. He pulled the back of her head downwards and grabbed the front of her throat with his free hand. She crumbled to the floor as he swiped the back of her knees with his foot, like the strike of a rattlesnake.
'Stay down there Kitten. Don't try and get up or I'll snap your tiny neck.' He unnecessarily held her down with one hand as Charlotte was so confused by his sudden behaviour that she went flaccid and her throat relaxed against his grip. The more she surrendered the easier she found it to breathe and the more she could breathe, the more she was alert to the intimidation and terror, colliding into one another in the air surrounding them, which had entered the room. Weak and nauseous from minimal sleep, Charlotte was afraid as a million things flashed through her mind, mainly what kind of perverted game was Wolfe putting on? This wasn't their usual repertoire. She attempted a feeble kick in his direction, which connected with his thigh. She yelped in pain, her ankle still sore from trying to kick down the door the night before.
Wolfe turned her around and pushed her face into the musty carpet, leaning his weight on top of her.
'Don't even think about it.'
With a final shove of her face into the carpet, Wolfe got up off Charlotte and slammed the door behind him, leaving her motionless with her eyes scrunched up and carpet strands tickling her nostrils.
Chapter Two
Eventually Wolfe came back and brought cold tea and toast. Unsure how to react, Charlotte hid her excitement and tried to control her breath, wordlessly watching him enter the room and place the food on the floor next to the door. There was a softer air about him and Charlotte was less afraid.
The room was stark reminder of a classroom she learnt maths and history in. The same, chalky smell with carpet that was barely distinguishable as carpet and industrially made furniture. Fitting tightly into the corner was a single bed with one flat pillow and a ribbed bedspread in a dirty cornflower blue. A small cubed window forced through some light, the glass thick and marbled with no opening. The view from the window revealed a barren concrete backyard that was surrounded by rusted corrugated iron fences so high they almost reached the power lines and stood expressionless against the sunlight.
The chewy toast he brought her was stained dark in the middle, barely concealed by the brush of jam that crossed it. Charlotte’s stomach warped as she looked at it.
‘I’m not really hungry.’
‘Just eat it.’
Not one for tea or toast but eager to appease him she ate it unceremoniously and stacked the mug on top of the plate, squashing the crumbs between the two types of plastic. She tentatively handed the dishes back to him, which he took in both hands as he set himself down beside her. Her skin tightened and the back of her neck went icy. Even though she was uneasy, she tried a strained smile.
'Look, I'm really sorry about last night Kitten. I just don’t know what came over me. I think I'm just overtired.' He placed the dishes on the floor and lifted up her hand and placed it in his lap. Charlotte struggled to talk but cried silent tears instead.
'Oh Charlotte, I'm so sorry. How can I ever make it up to you?'
'I want to go home.'
'Oh but Charlotte, you are home.' Wolfe's head jutted at an angle, like a curious bird. Charlotte felt his body go rigid.
'I want to go back to my place, my apartment.'
'This is your place now, you ungrateful bitch.' Wolfe jumped up, spilling Charlotte's hand from his lap. He slammed the door as he locked her in again, leaving her perplexed. This monster was not the Wolfe that she knew. The Wolfe that she’d loved for years would do anything to enjoy the intoxication of her.
Charlotte begged for Wolfe's help, wailing on her side of the door, listening for his footsteps to return. She couldn't believe the man that she loved was treating her this way.
'Wolfe, baby, are you there? I need you. I need you Wolfey, come to me. I need you. I need you baby'
Nothing.
'Please?'
Nothing.
Chapter Three
When she thought about Wolfe, there were many complex feelings that battled within her. She tried to segregate and jostle them about until they fit somewhere. Each emotion was enormous with its unidentifiable shape, like a melted hexagon or a wobbly triangle. It was like she was fixed to him through an unusual bond, much like the bridge of her violin which is held down only by force and the taught strings, without the need for fixings or glue. But when she thought of Wolfe when she was stuck in the room, he morphed into being her saviour, the one with the key. Especially, as he was the one who put her there.
Charlotte jumped to her feet with relief when she saw the doorknob turn. The door was pulled back with a gust of wind and there, standing in the doorway was Wolfe, the way she remembered him with his transparent skin and a false innocence.
'Oh Wolfe! Thank goodness. I've been trapped in here all night!' She was exhausted from a restless night and she blinked back tears of relief.
'Oh you silly thing. Don't worry, I'm here now.' Wolfe reached out to hug her, his forearms like steel pipes, and stroked her back. The hug was intimate yet stiff and Charlotte awkwardly reciprocated. She leaned her torso away slightly to look him in the eye before pressing a short kiss on his lips.
'Can we get out of here now?' Charlotte looked toward the door which swung closed again. 'Oh no! Shit. Now we're both trapped in here!'
'Shhh. It's all okay.' He stroked her hair with his palm, using more pressure than was comforting. He twirled a section of her hair around his fingers and grabbed it tightly. Charlotte giggled enjoying his attention and his attempt at rough play and wondered if it was foreplay or affection.
'Seriously Wolfe, I am exhausted. Can we go back to my place and eat nachos in bed?'
'No.'
'Okay then, we'll get pizza.'
'I mean no, you're not going anywhere.'
'Oh come on Wolfe, let me go home, shower, and then you can do whatever you want to me.'
'You're not listening to me Kitten. You're mine now. This is your home.'
'Ew. No, it's not Wolfe. Let’s just get back to mine. Please. I just need to be in my own bed.'
'I said no!' He yanked the handful of hair so hard that it stung Charlotte's scalp and she squealed. He pulled the back of her head downwards and grabbed the front of her throat with his free hand. She crumbled to the floor as he swiped the back of her knees with his foot, like the strike of a rattlesnake.
'Stay down there Kitten. Don't try and get up or I'll snap your tiny neck.' He unnecessarily held her down with one hand as Charlotte was so confused by his sudden behaviour that she went flaccid and her throat relaxed against his grip. The more she surrendered the easier she found it to breathe and the more she could breathe, the more she was alert to the intimidation and terror, colliding into one another in the air surrounding them, which had entered the room. Weak and nauseous from minimal sleep, Charlotte was afraid as a million things flashed through her mind, mainly what kind of perverted game was Wolfe putting on? This wasn't their usual repertoire. She attempted a feeble kick in his direction, which connected with his thigh. She yelped in pain, her ankle still sore from trying to kick down the door the night before.
Wolfe turned her around and pushed her face into the musty carpet, leaning his weight on top of her.
'Don't even think about it.'
With a final shove of her face into the carpet, Wolfe got up off Charlotte and slammed the door behind him, leaving her motionless with her eyes scrunched up and carpet strands tickling her nostrils.
Chapter Two
Eventually Wolfe came back and brought cold tea and toast. Unsure how to react, Charlotte hid her excitement and tried to control her breath, wordlessly watching him enter the room and place the food on the floor next to the door. There was a softer air about him and Charlotte was less afraid.
The room was stark reminder of a classroom she learnt maths and history in. The same, chalky smell with carpet that was barely distinguishable as carpet and industrially made furniture. Fitting tightly into the corner was a single bed with one flat pillow and a ribbed bedspread in a dirty cornflower blue. A small cubed window forced through some light, the glass thick and marbled with no opening. The view from the window revealed a barren concrete backyard that was surrounded by rusted corrugated iron fences so high they almost reached the power lines and stood expressionless against the sunlight.
The chewy toast he brought her was stained dark in the middle, barely concealed by the brush of jam that crossed it. Charlotte’s stomach warped as she looked at it.
‘I’m not really hungry.’
‘Just eat it.’
Not one for tea or toast but eager to appease him she ate it unceremoniously and stacked the mug on top of the plate, squashing the crumbs between the two types of plastic. She tentatively handed the dishes back to him, which he took in both hands as he set himself down beside her. Her skin tightened and the back of her neck went icy. Even though she was uneasy, she tried a strained smile.
'Look, I'm really sorry about last night Kitten. I just don’t know what came over me. I think I'm just overtired.' He placed the dishes on the floor and lifted up her hand and placed it in his lap. Charlotte struggled to talk but cried silent tears instead.
'Oh Charlotte, I'm so sorry. How can I ever make it up to you?'
'I want to go home.'
'Oh but Charlotte, you are home.' Wolfe's head jutted at an angle, like a curious bird. Charlotte felt his body go rigid.
'I want to go back to my place, my apartment.'
'This is your place now, you ungrateful bitch.' Wolfe jumped up, spilling Charlotte's hand from his lap. He slammed the door as he locked her in again, leaving her perplexed. This monster was not the Wolfe that she knew. The Wolfe that she’d loved for years would do anything to enjoy the intoxication of her.
Charlotte begged for Wolfe's help, wailing on her side of the door, listening for his footsteps to return. She couldn't believe the man that she loved was treating her this way.
'Wolfe, baby, are you there? I need you. I need you Wolfey, come to me. I need you. I need you baby'
Nothing.
'Please?'
Nothing.
Chapter Three
When she thought about Wolfe, there were many complex feelings that battled within her. She tried to segregate and jostle them about until they fit somewhere. Each emotion was enormous with its unidentifiable shape, like a melted hexagon or a wobbly triangle. It was like she was fixed to him through an unusual bond, much like the bridge of her violin which is held down only by force and the taught strings, without the need for fixings or glue. But when she thought of Wolfe when she was stuck in the room, he morphed into being her saviour, the one with the key. Especially, as he was the one who put her there.
