Chapter 2: Three months later...

The old lady who was sitting next to me in the foyer of Jutta’s hotel patted gently my hand.

“I know what you are going through. I have had chemo when they took my second breast away.” She looked into my eyes with a knowing smile and said, “I remember when mine started falling out—it was tough, but we got through it, didn’t we?” Then, she reached out gently and added, “Your strength shines brighter than any hair ever could.” Finally, with a wink, she said, “Besides, we’re rocking this look better than anyone else!”

I smiled. Because of my bald head, hotel guests made a plethora of assumptions, yet none of them deduced the relationship between my shaved head and my collar. Given Koen’s and Jutta’s preference for keeping their personal lives separate from the knowledge of their guests, I usually chose not to rectify the often well-intentioned, but ultimately inappropriate, remarks made by those guests in an attempt to be supportive. I enjoyed my conversations with the hotel guests, the majority of whom were in high spirits and clearly relishing their holiday time.

Life, after the hectic start, leading to the cutting of my beautiful hair, had settled back into its usual rhythm and routine. I helped the staff with breakfast and dinner. I helped to clean the rooms. Koen and Jutta were in a world of their own. They held hands often, as if making up for lost time. Their laughter came easily, filling the quiet moments with warmth. When they walked together, their steps stayed close, unhurried, content. In every glance they shared, there was a softness that spoke of deep gratitude and love.

Jutta took me to the dungeon on Thursday after I finished cleaning the rooms on the first floor. Koen was already there.

“Sylvia, what will it take to make you feel at home again?” Koen asked.

“I cannot answer that.” I said.

“You have to. We cannot go on like this.”

“Perhaps I want to tell you, but I can’t.”

“You know what this means, don’t you?” He threatened.

“I haven’t got a clue.”

The threat hung in the air, thick and suffocating: “I want you out of this house by midnight and never come back.”

Overwhelmed by emotion, I dissolved into uncontrollable sobbing, my body shaking with each breath. Tears blurred my vision as I clutched my chest, the weight of the moment pressing down on me. I couldn’t stop, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think—only feel. He had to mean that, and why wouldn’t he be angry with me? He had every right to. Such coldness in his tone. So final. The world around me faded, leaving nothing but the raw ache of my heart laid bare. With my world falling apart and tears streaming down my face, I looked to Koen for comfort but found only an impassive figure, completely motionless and with an unchanging expression that betrayed no empathy or even a flicker of concern for my emotional collapse. I knew with an unwavering conviction that we were finally, completely done. I wanted to stop shaking, but I couldn’t somehow.

The softest lips, cool and gentle, caressed my bare skull. Soft butterfly kisses, each one a whisper of fleeting warmth, landed on my head.

“I think I know what you need, pretty girl, but you will be the one that tells him. I can’t do that for you. It’s your only way out of this mess.” Jutta whispered.

“I need...” I started so softly my words had difficulty reaching my ears.

“Harder!” Koen shouted at the top of his lungs.

I was shocked, but he got what he wanted. My voice was loud and angry. Angry at myself. Full of self-loathing, I said, “I need you to destroy me. Shatter me, pulverise me, reduce me to nothingness, until the stench of my lies is all that remains. After there is nothing left of my old self, if it pleases you, you can rebuild me, piece by piece, so you will have finally the woman you truly deserve.”

Jutta walked towards Koen and lost her dress on the way to him. Fully naked, she pushed her body against him. Koen was still looking at me as she whispered in his ear. I couldn’t make out their anxious conversation, but it went on for ages. Their embrace mirrored a slow, watery descent; they were drowning, clinging to each other for dear life. My legs couldn’t carry me any longer, I collapsed to the floor. A stench of mildew and decay hung heavy in the dungeon air; I couldn’t believe I hadn’t noticed it earlier. They both ignored me completely, neither giving me a second glance. My misery was so intense that the thought of dying right then and there was utterly inconsequential; I felt numb. I closed my eyes, and the world faded into a blissful silence.

A sudden lightness overcame me as I was lifted and carried, the movement smooth and swift. I kept my eyes firmly closed, unwilling to see what lay before me. Against better judgement, I was hoping I was not being thrown on the streets without a shred of clothes on my body. Someone pulled my hands behind my back. I felt the familiar tension of rope as my hands were bound firmly together. I tried to open my eyes, but complete darkness prevented me from seeing. They must have blindfolded me somewhere along the way. Or I was suddenly blind. I’ve lost all my bearings and understanding.

“If I say ‘I forgive you’, you’ll think it’s too easy, right? We need to earn our own forgiveness. Forgive me if it’s making no sense to me at all. But fortunately for you, Jutta seems to understand. Perhaps it’s a girls’ thing. But she has volunteered to hurt you, body and soul. So we throw safe in the trash, we flush sane through the toilet and rip out the page with consensual on it from our dictionary.”

Suddenly, he slaps my cheek. Left. Right. Left. Right. A pause. I hear his hard breathing and three hard slaps land on my right cheek. At a killer pace, he starts to slap my tits. Hard. And for a long time. From left to right. From bottom to top. Hard and very hard. Without a pause, he hits my cheek so hard my face jerks to the right as a result of the blow. It’s the hardest blow he has ever given me. All his anger and frustration were there in that wallop. Even before his hand touched my face, I could feel the warmth radiating from his palm against my skin. Without thinking, I was licking his hand. Tiny licks. I poured all my love for him into those little licks against his hand. I hear the sharp intake of his breath. Suddenly, I hear the unmistakable sound of a zipper lowered, sucking sounds and Jutta moan over his dick.

“You like that, huh? Perhaps I should slap you as well, you hussy?” He wasn’t talking to me, and vented all his emotions now on my poor mistress. He didn’t. Slap her. Thank God. My guilt was undeniable, but she was blameless. I kept silently licking his hand until I felt him tremble.

“I’m coming, you slut. Suck all that come into your whore’s mouth. Don’t swallow yet, I want to see it before you do, slave. You tart, you bimbo, you ... ahhh. That’s it, you cocksucker. Show me.” He wasn’t talking to me.

“Please don’t be mad at my mistress, master. Be mad at me.” He did what I asked him. He hit me with wind force 10. There was no escape possible. His flat hand with the strength of a fist against my face. Apparently, the promise of never hitting me in anger was thrown out of the window as well. Jutta’s body, pliant and yielding, slid between Koen and me. Her murmured words were soft and low, like a calming balm, soothing him as if he were a child having a tantrum. His hands, undoubtedly warm and throbbing with pain, would probably feel exactly like my burning face.

All at once, the vibrant buzz of the dark room vanished, leaving a heavy, still silence in its wake. I heard Jutta and Koen leave the dungeon, talking softly to each other. Despite my desire to remain standing, I lacked the strength. I sank to my knees, but had the presence of mind to remain there. Motionless, while my emotions rushed through me like a river bursting its banks, each wave crashing against the walls of my mind, unstoppable and wild.