The
Puppet Master
Emily
Browning
I woke to pain.
Pain so intense it left me breathless and unable to think. I
struggled to remember what had brought on this agony, only to realize
that I couldn't remember anything.
Who are you?
a voice asked, skittering across my mind.
I...
I don't know. Who are you?
Edira. This is
my body.
I
wanted to protest her claim of the body that was obviously mine, but
before I could I was overcome by a wave of memories. A whole life
time of memories.
Edira's
memories.
But
then, who am I?
I don't know. I
guess we'll figure it out together.
I
heard a knock, then a door opening. “Edira? You feeling any
better?” a voice I automatically identified as Mary asked.
“I'm
fine,” Edira answered weakly, turning her, my, our head to
look at her worried roommate. “I'm just sick.”
This
is being sick?
No, this is
being... she stopped, but I
could feel her struggling to continue. Never mind. You'll
figure it out.
What do you
mean?
“Ok,”
Mary said, not sounding convinced. “Drake is here.”
Fear
scuttled through both Edira and me. Us, I suppose. “Send him in,”
Edira said.
A
moment later, Mary was replaced by a very tall, very dark, very
handsome man. His shoulders were so broad that they filled the
doorway. He had black hair he wore in a sort of organized chaos and
dark eyes. Moving swiftly, he sat on the edge of our bed and smoothed
our hair out of our face. “How are you feeling?”
“Sick.”
I
frowned. Edira currently controlled the body, so it didn't show on
our face, but I did frown. I felt unsettled, but I couldn't figure
out why.
“You poor dear,” Drake purred, his voice as smooth as silk. “How
long has it been?”
“Three days, five hours, nineteen minutes.”
Drake's eyebrows rose as though he were surprised, though I had a
feeling that he wasn't. “You've been counting.”
But she hadn't. Edira hadn't known “how long it had been” until
he'd asked.
“I missed you,” she said, her voice earnest. This, too, was
wrong. Edira hadn't missed him at all. She wished he would die.
“I missed you too. Tell me you love me?”
“I love you Drake.”
No!
I wanted to scream. She didn't love him! She didn't even like him!
Why was she doing what he told her to do? Everything about this was
wrong!
“I love you too Edira. Get up, I made reservations at your
favorite restaurant.”
She tried. I don't know why she tried, but she did. Agony raced
through us, making us fall back.
Drake's face filled with sympathy. “You poor dear, you're still in
pain aren't you?”
Edira nodded, a whimper escaping our lips.
Drake placed his thumb on our forehead and said, “Be healed.”
Instantly
the pain we felt was gone. Edira sat up and put our arms around his
neck. He kissed us, his lips surprisingly cold. Now that I thought of
it, all of
him was cold, like he was made of ice.
“Get dressed. We don't want to be late.” Drake stood and left us
alone.
Edira shuddered, taking a moment to still her rapid heart beat
before she stood to dress.
What
is going on?
I asked.
Isn't
it obvious? He's my boyfriend.
That
creep is your boyfriend?
Edira
sighed. He
wasn't always a creep. He was once so... Edira
trailed off, but memory filled our mind.
It's
Edira's senior year of high school and she's at a basketball game
with her friends. She sees a young man with dark hair and pale skin
sitting by himself completely absorbed in a book. Though it's unlike
her, Edira leaves her friends to go talk to him. The boy is sweet,
though shy, and seems to glow from her attention. She finds herself
genuinely enjoying their conversation, and eagerly agrees when he
asks her out.
What
happened?
I asked.
Another
memory flashed through our mind, quick and painful. Drake's
face twisted with rage as he slowly and deliberately beat Edira until
she couldn't move. Edira wondering what she had done to deserve it.
Edira looking down at herself when he finished, shocked to see not a
single bruise or cut anywhere. Drake telling her not to tell anyone.
Why...?
I was distracted when Edira stepped in front of a full length mirror
and I saw our body for the first time. We were of an average height
and bone thin. Our hair was an unnatural shade of black—the exact
same shade as Drake's—and very long. She lined our blue eyes with
think black eye liner, then slipped into a black tank top, miniskirt,
and pumps before going to meet Drake in the front room of our
apartment. “I'm ready,” she said with a smile.
“And you look like a dream. Come on, love.”
Edira tucked us under Drake's arm, snuggling against his rock hard
side. I shuddered, wishing he would go away. He made our skin crawl,
the son of a...
Stop,
he's not that bad. We love him, Edira
interrupted me.
Why
do you let him control you?
I don't, silly. He loves me and I love him.
This
was not the same girl I had talked to before Drake came along.
Sitting in his car, Drake took our hand in his. “Did you make any
new friends?”
“No. I've been sick in bed.”
What
about me?
You're my sister, not my friend.
You weren't sick.
Another
memory; Drake
carried Edira after the most recent beating, setting her in bed.
“You're sick, Edira. If anyone asks, you're sick. I'll see you when
you've learned your lesson.”
What was the lesson?
I don't know, but I must have learned it.
We
arrived at some fancy restaurant that I didn't bother to catch the
name of. Drake opened the car door for us and tucked us back under
his arm. When we were seated and looking at the menu, Drake said,
“Get a salad, you've put on some weight.”
We're
not fat,
I protested, looking at the jutting bone of our wrist.
Yes
we are, Edira
answered, but there was something off about her tone, something...
forced.
“And drink water,” Drake continued.
Edira merely nodded and did as he wanted. The weirdest thing was,
she wanted it too. Once Drake said she wanted something, she
legitimately did want it, even if she'd been thinking of something
else before. I felt oddly like he was controlling her, like a puppet
master. But... that wasn't possible, was it? I'd only been “born”
that morning, but I had access to all of Edira's memories. I knew it
wasn't normal for a man to have so much power over his girlfriend.
Could a human literally force another human to do something?
Was Drake human?
“Wipe your mouth off, you look like a slob.”
Edira clenched our hand in our lap, shame burning in our cheeks, but
otherwise she didn't move.
“Edira, wipe you mouth off.”
Now our hand rose, wiping away what ever it was that bothered him.
After
dinner, Drake drove back to his place. Edira sighed mentally as she
got out of the car and followed him up the steps. If
there's some way for you to... to go to sleep or something—to turn
yourself off—I'd do it. This wont be pleasant.
What wont?
Memories
rushed through me, making me cringe. I closed my internal eyes and
willed myself into oblivion.
* * *
I
woke to pain. A lot
more
pain than I'd been in the last time I woke up. Edira was a quivering
lump somewhere in the back of our mind, leaving me to figure out what
had happened on my own. We lay stark naked in Drake's bed, blissfully
alone. And, I was surprised to see, we were bleeding. Cuts
criss-crossed up our arms, across our chest and stomach, and down our
legs. All were still oozing slowly, leaving us faint. What
the h...
Drake
walked into the room before I could finish my thought. Like me, he
was completely naked. Unlike me, he seemed... stronger somehow. I
found myself staring at his chest, which glistened oddly in the dim
light. He sneered at me. “Get your fill you lustful whore.”
We're
the whore? I
asked Edira. I
doubt this was your idea.
Drake's
thumb pressed against my forehead. “Be healed.” All the cuts
vanished, but we still felt weak. “Get up, slut.”
I expected to feel the tug to obey that always came when he gave
Edira an order, but I didn't. We continued to lay on the bed, gazing
up at him.
Furry flashed in his eyes. “Get up, Edira, you good for nothing
wench.”
Edira regained control of our body, lifting us up on shaking legs.
Drake grabbed the back of our neck, pressing his lips to ours. His
other arm snaked around our waist, forcing us against him. Just when
I began to wonder I should go back to “sleep,” Drake shoved us
away. “I don't have any more time to waste entertaining whores. Get
dressed, I'll take you home.” Shooting us one last menacing glance,
he left.
Relief making us weak, we looked around until we'd found and put on
all of our clothes. We found Drake in his kitchen and he drove us
home, the ride silent. He would not speak to us, would not even look
at us. For me, this was just fine, but Edira worried that she had
done something wrong. He dropped us off outside our apartment and we
let ourselves in, going directly to our room and getting ready for
bed. We still felt weak from what ever he'd done with our blood, and
it was very late.
He
controls you using your name,
I remarked as we slipped into a pair of holey sweats and a baggy
sweater. It seemed Drake did not care if we dressed as a slut when he
was not around.
I
know, Edira
responded, obviously exhausted.
I was hoping you'd figure that out.
Why didn't you just tell me?
Because I couldn't.
Do you know how he does it?
Yes. It's called name magic. Or at least, that's what I call it.
Name magic gives its bearers the ability to control anyone by using
their true name, the name given to them at birth. Generations ago,
parents safe guarded their children's true names from this magic by
calling them a different name than the one given at birth. Now we are
fools, giving our true names to perfect strangers.
What's my true name?
You don't have one. No one will ever be able to control you.
Why did you want me to figure it out?
Because,
as long as I live he has complete power over me. I could commit
suicide, but that wouldn't really matter to him. But if I
die and you live on, then he will no longer have control of this
body. That
will make him angry.
You can't just leave me alone.
Yes, I can. I've studied all of this before. I know what I have
to do.
But... what about me?
You take over my life. Ditch Drake and regain everything he took
from me.
What if I don't want to?
Edira
sighed, lying down and pulling our blankets up over our head. Why
don't we talk about this tomorrow? I'm exhausted.
All right.
* * *
I woke to pain. By this time, I thought that I would be used to it.
Our eyes opened and looked around, expecting to see Drake inflecting
our agony. Only Drake was not present. We sat up, trying to determine
what was hurting us so badly.
And then I realized; it was not
our pain, it was mine.
Edira was gone, leaving behind a gaping hole of loss.
I wanted to cry. I wanted to lay back down and die with her, but I
knew that I couldn't. Edira would have wanted me to get up and get on
with her life. My life. So I did. I dug through her skimpy black
clothing until I found a pair of jeans and a baggy sweater—neither
of which were black. My face clear of make up, I pulled on a pair of
sneakers and went to show the world that Edira was no longer
controlled by Drake.
I ran into Edira's... I mean,
my, roommate
Mary in the kitchen. Her eyes bugged out from her head when she saw
me. “Edira?”
I nodded, smiling tentatively as I pushed my hair behind my ear.
“Good morning.”
“You... you look different.”
“Does it look weird?” I asked, fidgeting with the seam of my
sleeve.
“No!” Mary was quick to say, “I've just never seen you dress
like that. Did you and Drake break up?”
“Not yet, but we will, when I see him.”
“Wow. What brought all this on?”
I shrugged, looking around the kitchen. “I'm just tired of him
controlling me, I guess. Where's the cereal?”
The relief emanating from Mary was almost tangible. She opened a
cupboard, revealing all kinds of breakfast foods. “Would you maybe
want to go shopping later?”
“I would love that, I don't have a lot of clothes that aren't
black.”
Once I ate I drove down to the local beauty salon and got my hair
cut and dyed back to its natural blond.
On the way back to my car, a hand grabbed my arm and yanked me into
an ally before slamming me into a wall. “You whore, what do you
think you're doing?”
“I'm not a whore, Drake, you are,” I hissed back at him.
He backhanded me. “Take that back Edira.”
“Never.”
Drake's eyebrows disappeared into his hairline. “That stupid slut
figured it out. Why do they all have to figure it out?” He swore,
shaking his head, then turned back to me. “So what's your name?”
he asked, pressing me between him and the wall.
“I don't have one.”
“Well in that case, you're of no use to me.” Drake took a
handgun from his pocket, pointed at me, and pulled the trigger. Fire
ripped through my chest, sending me into oblivion.
This time, I knew I would not wake.
