“You are special, my friend. I believe you hold the key to what has been happening to all of us, and with your help we will unlock those secrets. But to do that you must first be rid of these addictions. You must. It is for the greater good.”
The Mariner agreed hesitantly, not quite understanding what Tetrazzini was hinting at.
“So you see, it’s important you follow the course of treatment for both your addictions. Take the pill, indulge, and eventually you’ll be the master.”
His eyes widened as he understood what the doctor was suggesting. “You want me to…?”
“I’m not telling you to do anything,” Tetrazzini quickly replied. “But if you want to be free of this compulsion, if you want to be assured you never have to do it again, if you want to forget these terrible things you’ve done, then this is the only way.”
The Mariner’s mind was reeling. Was it true? Was this the road to salvation?
Sensing hesitation, Tetrazzini repeated the mantra. “It’s the only way.”
20. BITTER/SWEET MEDICINE
BETH MASTERSON LEFT TETRAZZINI’S CLINIC for the last time, stepping lightly down the many stairs that wound their way into Sighisoara. Her satchel contained a small collection of paperback novels, a diary, two changes of clothes and some basic food, nothing more than biscuits and a flask of juiced tomatoes. Tetrazzini had managed to procure her lodging and employment at the town’s orchard, good work in a world of uncertainty.
Above her, heavy clouds cast intermittent shadows across the steps. It were the first hint of poor weather they’d had in weeks, though after so much sunshine, it was welcome. Clouds meant rain, and rain meant crops; fruit would need picking, plants nurturing. Yes, there would be plenty of work for her to do. God Bless Tetrazzini; he’d given her a new life, something to embrace.
Despite the downward trajectory of her journey, Beth felt lighter with every step.
And somewhere behind, the Mariner followed.
He tried to keep to the shadows whilst appearing casual, nervous that if seen he mustn’t appear like a predator. The response of the townsfolk was a concern, there had been a lot of deaths attributed to him since his arrival. There would undoubtedly be dark feelings abound; he should stay concealed lest he provoke a bitter confrontation.
With every sly step, the pills in his pocket rattled within their capsule, the gentle taps a reminder of his intent. He was nauseous with dread, though even this emotion was a mask. Beneath, his heart raced at the prospect. He no longer had to fight his demons. Now they could be set free.
He checked his gun — the Mauser. It felt good in his hand. He didn’t plan on using it beyond threats and coercion, but it was a welcome security nonetheless. As yet he hadn’t seen another gun within Sighisoara and this power should allow him… indulgence.
Daydreams of how it would play out began flitting through his mind. It shocked him at first, just how easily thoughts of sexual violence filled his consciousness the second he allowed them in. The taboo made his pulse quicken and penis harden. Would he reveal his identity, or blindfold her eyes? Force compliance through threat, or restraint? He liked the idea of her arms bound and body vulnerable to his touch, but there was also a certain thrill from her acting of her own volition, reluctantly servicing his needs under threat of pain.
“Oh it’s you. Heading into town as well?”
Her voice shook the Mariner from his sordid reverie. Beth was standing a little way off, looking at him. A hand was raised to shield her eyes from the glare of the clouds above, still bright despite the setting sun.
“I’m just on my way to check on the ship,” the Mariner lied. “There were vandals yesterday. I must keep a closer watch.”
Beth nodded. “A big old ship like that must attract a lot of attention.”
He agreed, and Beth looked around, seemingly relaxed in his presence. He found himself wondering how her cunt tasted. “Would you like to walk with me?”
Utterly perplexed as how to proceed, the Mariner accepted her invitation and took to her side. They strolled, leaving the sloping stairs behind and entering the uppermost of Sighisoara residences.
“So you’re cured then?” he said, trying to make conversation. “Congratulations.”
“Yes, it’s truly amazing. I think back to just a couple of months ago and life was so different. I was an addict in complete denial.”
“How so?”
“I thought the cutting was something I had to do, rather than something I chose to do.”
The pair passed through a stone archway, wooden doors long since pilfered. Perhaps they’d been burned for warmth or converted into a table, but whoever the thief, all that remained was a tunnel of stone leading to a further slope and larger section of buildings below.
All was quiet, the only sounds that of their feet upon the cobbles and the seagulls soaring above.
“Why cut? I understand why I’m addicted to alcohol. It helps me forget. But cutting?”
“What are you drinking to forget?”
“Me. This. Everything.” He shrugged as if what he was saying was plainly obvious. “But cutting wouldn’t achieve anything like that. So how can you become addicted to something that has such little effect?”
“You’d be surprised,” Beth replied with a sigh. “Cutting does make you forget. While you’re in pain you don’t remember hurtful thoughts and painful memories. They’re still there, but the pain focuses them into that one spot. It’s as if the act of self-harm drags the pain from your head and into the wound. You distract yourself with booze. My method was no different.”
It seemed to make a grim sort of sense to the Mariner. A familiar sense. He remembered his experience with the eels, how he’d come to mutilate himself to dull the lust that threatened to drive him insane. Oh yes, Beth’s approach made sense all right.
“It’s logical in a completely insane way.” Beth sighed again, shaking her head at the nonsense of her own life. Mind still locked in lust, he wondered if she’d make a similar sound when penetrated.
“And the pills helped?”
“Oh yes.” Beth brightened up at the mention of treatment. “They’re amazing. Little by little the compulsion lessened until I realised I didn’t want to cut at all.”
“But what if your hurtful thoughts come back? What then?”
“Maybe if they get bad enough I’ll cut. But I’ll take a pill while I do it to make sure the habit doesn’t return. Cutting’s now a tool at my disposal, whereas I used to be the tool for it. You get my meaning?”
The Mariner did. Tetrazzini had expressed the same sentiment repeatedly.
“Here we are,” said Beth, stopping in the street. “Your ship’s that way, my new home the other.”
He glanced along both streets, concerned that she might evade him if he didn’t follow to her new lodgings. Fortunately the streets were empty and darkening.
“I’ll accompany you a bit longer, there are plenty of undesirables in this town.”
“Ain’t that the truth? I heard about what happened to Rebecca. How awful. I’m so glad you were with her. She should have known better than to go to a place like that.”
“I should have done more,” he said sadly, though in his heart he wasn’t sure if he meant to help, or… the alternative.
Beth seemed to assume he meant the more savoury option, and tried to reassure him, caressing his arm. “You did all you could.” He shuddered lightly at her touch, enjoying the warmth of her fingers.
She wants it, his mind whispered. It can hardly be a crime if she wants it.
But did she? He stared at her face, those warm brown eyes, and wondered just where reality ended and his lust began?