Claudia D. Christian

Estimated reading time: 3 – 5 minutes

Violation had a way with them both. Making love, fucking, raping—it all meant the same thing. Barely distinguishable acts meant to raise them both out of their ennui. To think of sex in this way proved he was broken and always had been. The Broker was right.

He should’ve been drowned at birth.

Narcissus continued practiced seduction for a spiteful audience of one. He dipped his cock inside her for a moment before moving upwards. His turgid head circled the tiny piece of flesh, willing it to swell and bloom for him. Narcissus carried on for minutes, losing himself in the pain created by denial.

His mind flashed violently. It recycled through the memories of Lisette and Chessie. Diana appeared as well.

Warmth without lust unfurled inside him. Diana’s counsel had sustained him in the decades after Lisette’s suicide. She was the only woman he could say he cared for without the need of carnal knowledge.

You never tried to stop me from this folly. You understood I could never be swayed any more than I could sway you to stop whoring. It was vital to us both. You tried to tell me to open myself to this terrible, disgusting pain. You swore I would be better for it.

Why did you lie to me, Diana?

Bits of time, moments with and without significance, continued to spin inside his mind.

Lisette was his treasure, one he shared with any and everyone. Chessie was his delight, one he displayed as an ornament on his wall. Sophie was his conscience, one he never acknowledged until the damage was done.

And now I’m going to destroy Chessie for Sophie. I would’ve done it anyways. I just needed the right kind of push.

Narcissus wondered what his insides looked like. Were they blackened like his intentions?

He surged forward. Chessie’s cunt swallowed him whole. He wished he could’ve disappeared then. Narcissus kissed her mouth, tasting his memories forever. Knowing it was all he could ever hope for now that he’d become entrapped in his own uselessness.

He slid his hands up her arms, pushing them up over her head. His fingers entwined hers. His hips rocked against Chessie’s. He remained silent. His vocal cords symbolically severed in echo of hers.

Pleasure without substance. Ecstasy in emptiness. Tiny mimicries of a life never spent well.

Narcissus wondered if his mother had suffered like this. He had spent his entire existence without much thought to the woman who had given birth to him before fading away. Now he couldn’t help but feel kinship to Echo. Had she fallen so completely in love with his father she couldn’t see any way to exist without him?

Am I really my father’s image? Or my mother’s shadow? I can’t help but love her knowing…feeling…this. We are the same, Echo. I’m only sorry that I never thought of you more often.

Narcissus pressed his mouth against Chessie’s. He opened his eyes and saw Sophie staring at him.

“Does it feel good? Does it make you feel anything at all?”

“I don’t know.” His hips continued their meaningless dance. “I don’t think so.”

Her lips carried a secret promise. She moved behind him and whispered in his ear. “I like the way you make love, Narcissus. It’s so beautiful.”

Narcissus stiffened. The words were wrong. There was nothing of beauty in what he was doing to the Chessie doll.

“You strangle my hate, Narcissus, when you think of someone other than yourself.” Sophie kissed his lobe. “When you think of me.”

Narcissus wrenched out of the dead girl. He stumbled back until he hit the wall. Tools scattered and tables overturned. Entangled in hopeless sanity, Narcissus raised his arms in entreaty. Face the color of stone, eyes dilated until they became blackened holes in his head, mouth agape, Narcissus wanted to die right then and there.

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This is the last public update for Suicide Doll. I hope you’ve all enjoyed the overload of angst. Originally I intended for Suicide Doll to be a full-length novel. However, the story demanded something else. I will be releasing it soon as a 20k-22k short story.