Not long after that; it happened. I woke, showered, dressed, and stepped out of the room only to find myself stepping back into the bedroom. I guess I’m slow on the uptake because I tried walking out several more times before realizing the Prince must have done something to trap me here. I was officially a prisoner.

Sam kept me company most days bringing me meals and snacks, a TV; staying with me and talking.

He tried to tell me about his powers a couple of times. The horror of the first murder had disappeared. It was enough for me to realize he had become a murderer for them, for him. I told him to stop, he looked hurt. I couldn't comprehend it. He asked, “Is that why you won’t let him change you?”

I shuddered, “Frankly, it hasn’t come up, so I haven’t had a chance to refuse.”

“The other gods want him to, they don’t understand why he keeps you around,” Sam studied his feet.

“Neither do I,” I snarled feeling the walls closing in, “Why does he just keep me prisoner. The few times he does show up, he just sits there and watches me. Sometimes he--”

I stopped. Sam didn’t need to know about those times when the Prince touched me and I wanted him so badly I would have clawed off my own skin to be near him.

It wasn’t until the following morning when I realized what happened. The humiliation of being made to want him and not being able to control my body or my mind. I usually cried until Sam showed up.

One night, the Prince came in and he didn’t even need to touch me, that horrifying need started in the pit of my stomach.

I just wanted it to be over with so I got up, put my arms around his death white neck and kissed him. God, I just wanted to suck on him so hard it would permanently attach his lips to mine.

I was so desperate I didn’t even see him move. The stab felt like a pinprick turning into a fire of pain. I looked down to see a needle-like nail of his index finger inside my stomach, blood flowing over the stabbing finger onto his hand.

For a moment reality reasserted itself and I screamed. But it lasted only a moment as he took even the pain away from me and transformed it into desire.

Even as I leaned into the weapon, wishing he would stick the other four spindle-like nails into me, I felt tears well out of my eyes and run down my cheeks.

The nights he came became more frequent; the things he did more horrifying. I wanted all of it. He always left at daybreak and he always healed me until not even a scratch remained.

I would spend my days in terror of the nights. I slept only out of sheer exhaustion. Sam looked more and more worried when he came to feed me but he never asked. I could only guess that everyone knew what happened in here.

Months passed, summer turned to fall, fall to winter. I knew I lost weight, and grew pale and sallow. The feeling that this is my life now, forever, overtook me and I knew why people committed suicide. I probably would have done it, if I didn’t think the Prince would heal me in a heartbeat.

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I could have dragged the TV to the bathtub, strung the bed sheets into a noose and hung it off the ceiling fan. Sam made sure to take all knives with him; I must have stared at them too long. After all slitting my wrists would probably be the easiest.

On another day, Sam was still there when the Prince showed up, I couldn’t hide the fear that came over me. And Sam did something I never foresaw, he stepped in front of the god he worshipped.

“Please give her time to recover, she’s not well.”

The Prince’s expression never changed. He looked at Sam, he looked at me. He turned around and left.

He didn’t come back for a week. I knew it wouldn’t last still…hope is a bitch.

I woke to find him sitting in an armchair in the corner of the room, watching me. I moved to sit up but found I couldn’t move.

The door opened and Sam walked in with breakfast. He looked from the Prince to me and back, before setting the food down and turning to leave.

“Come back,” the Prince said.

My heart dropped to my feet. I felt lightheaded, I couldn’t breathe.

“I want you to make love to her,” the Prince’s tone never changed.

I felt bile rise up my throat and immediately dissipate as the Prince willed it away. Still I gagged on air.

“What?” Sam stood stock-still.

The Prince looked at his Worshipper, “Do I need to repeat myself?”

My heart thundered, “Sam, don’t, you don’t have to listen to him.”

I don’t know why I bothered. Sam didn’t question his Master again, like a good dog he approached me.

“Sam I will never forgive you for this,” empty words they couldn’t stop him as he climbed on top of me. He was shuddering as he leaned down to kiss my neck.

“NO!” The closest thing to irritation entered the Prince’s voice, “Not as Sam, as Ash.”

I didn’t know what that meant. If I had the capacity for actual thought at that moment I probably could have figured it out, instead I said, “What? What does that mean? Sam?”

Sam was frozen above me, horror and disbelief written on his face. “I would kill her,” the voice was a whisper.

“No you won’t, now begin.”

Tears rolled down my cheeks as my slow brain finally caught up, “Sam, don’t, please, you don’t have to do this.”

“I’m so sorry Em,” tears rolled down his face even as the fire beneath his skin came alive.

Ash started tentatively like he was afraid to hurt me. What a laugh.

He brushed his fingers down my arm leaving a trail of blisters. I shut my eyes and bit my lip to keep from crying out.

He bent to kiss down my neck to my breasts; each touch came with a flinch of pain. I could hear my rasping pants as the pain grew unbearable.

Ash pulled down his pants to reveal his...penis? I tried to scoot away again, forgetting I was stuck in place. The thing looked like a club.

As if seeing my pain for the first time, Ash frowned, "I'll make this quick, I promise."

I didn't know if I should laugh or cry.

He posed to insert his...appendage while I trembled and shook my head no below him. But I didn't feel it...at least I couldn't distinguish that pain from the molten lava that was his lips as he kissed me. At least the kiss kept me from screaming.

He may have meant to kill me quickly but the Prince had other ideas. I felt every layer of my skin go like I was an onion he peeled back.

They say that once the nerves burn away, you’re supposed to stop feeling. They lied.

My salvation came when the Prince couldn’t keep me conscious any longer.

I don’t know how long I slept, I dreamed of stupid, happy things; laughing about a movie Sam and I just saw, shopping with friends. I dreamed that my reality was a dream.

I woke with a scream, but no one was there to hear it. Moonlight streamed in the window. I sat up, alone, and whole. Everything coming back to me as did tears and sobs. Sam wasn’t Sam anymore, I had known that, why didn’t I run away when I had the chance?

I rocked on the bed, sobbing and not knowing what to do. I wondered what it felt like to actually die. It couldn’t possible hurt more than everything I’ve been through. The TV was probably too heavy, especially in my state to carry. I looked at the ceiling fan, I could reach it if I touched the bed, but that also meant that I would just touch the bed if I tried to hang myself.

I curled into a ball and decided that tomorrow I would try harder to find a way.