Blood and Water – Part one

“I’m sorry, I just couldn’t let you do this to us .”

The duchess is dead and her entire party is sprawled across the ballroom floor, bodies cut in half, drained of blood. But how did we exactly get to this point?

You see, I just wanted to be friends, good friends at that. The Duchess and I met at Blooms Pond, a small stream surrounded by heavy vegetation and garden animals. I, fifteen and grieving the loss of my father, would visit the stream as a way to release my own woes into nature. One day, the Duchess stumbled across me attempting to take my own pain away and stopped me. She, being a royal and all, was such a gorgeous sight. She was the symbol of elegance and excellence, she walked in her own power and I felt like less of a human being when I was in her presence. 

“Duchess Freya, I’m sorry you must see me this way,” I pull myself from her grasp and attempt to treat my self-inflicted wounds. She fixes her ruffled hair and hands me a napkin. 

“What’s your name?” 


From that moment onto her death, she took me under her wing as her own. Maybe, deep down, I always had an idea of my plan to murder the Duchess and the entire court. She was able to get me access to the palace and I would spend all of my time with her.

During one of her baths, I was sitting on a stool near her as her maid washed her hair. Out of nowhere, She feels a sharp stab in her tooth, makes a high-pitch yelp as she grabs her chin. The maid and I rushed to her aid. The maid was new and was bewildered on what to do, so she decided to go find someone more reliable. I advise the Duchess to move her hand and I glide my hand softly and slowly against her chin, occasionally pressing the area until she notifies me that I found the tooth.

“Does this hurt?” I ask as I begin to stroll my finger across her back teeth. She doesn’t tell me, so I look up. Her mouth is wide open, with my thumb at the back of it. She is still and making direct eye contact with me. Saliva starts to pool in her mouth, so she slowly closes her mouth, with my thumb still in place, and swallows. The tension is building and she uses both hands to pull my thumb out of her mouth, sliding it against her tongue before meeting her front teeth. She doesn’t break eye contact and puts my hand on the rim of the bathtub. Eye contact is finally broken and the tension leaves as her maid and a senior maid enters the bathroom. 

“My lady,” the senior maid starts as she palms the Duchess’ face and pulls it towards her. “Are you hurting? What is this I hear about a pain in your tooth?” 

“I am fine, Jewela. Paris helped me.” The senior maid looks at me and looks away to brush me off. 

“Let’s get you out of this tub. Paris, I think it is time for you to leave.”

After that moment in the tub, the tension continued to build and we would spend even more time together. The Duchess would allow me to try on her dresses and gowns, but would be persistent that she zip up and take off my dress for me. She would always trail her finger tips slowly down my spine while zipping and it would cause my heart rate to quicken and chills to drive through my body.

“You look stunning,” The Duchess comments as I admire myself in the light blue satin nightgown. I watched as her eyes trailed me, from my tan neck to my petite breast to my sleeky thighs poking out from the bottom of the nightgown. 

“What are you looking at?” Her eyes pop up from my thighs to make eye contact with me from the mirror. I smirk and turn around to face her. “You like what you see?” I tease as I walk toward her royal vanity to begin taking off my facial enhancements. I can feel her eyes on me, even as I walk away from her. I hear her make a light chuckle and she strolls to the bed next to the vanity I’m sitting at and sits at the edge of the bed. 

` “Can I ask you a question?” The Duchess begins.

“Yes, you know you can.” For some reason, facial enhancements were difficult to take off this day and I decided to use another removal that the duchess owns.

“Have you ever had sex?” I stop moving and a weird feeling starts to form in my stomach. I never had this feeling before. “I know we have to save ourselves for marriage, but isn’t there a way to prepare for it?”
“What are you trying to suggest to me?”
“Can we?” She begins to play with her fingernails and stumble on her words. “Can we practice with each other? Teach each other?” The feelings worsens. What is going on with me? I felt this feeling with her before, but now it has intensified. I feel like I am going to throw up. I don’t know what to do, so I oblige. 


To me, she was Terpsichore, the goddess of dance and chorus.

Her body followed her mind.

Watching her dance and sway,

She did it without effort or control, like it came naturally to her.

To me, she liked order.

She didn’t like her students being a couple minutes late.

She liked everything done on time and her lines to be straight.

She liked everything to be perfect.

To me, she was kind.

Her smile made me smile.

Hearing her laughter made me happy.

She was a little funny and loved what she did.

She can be over the top, but she was never terrible.

I can still hear her voice echoing throughout my mind.

To me, she was a mother.

She adored her 4 year old son and he adored her.

I remember she continuously told me to put a hat on my nephew during the winter time.

I wish I could’ve thanked her.

She visits her family in Arizona during winter break.

They probably didn’t know it would be her last time visiting them.

To me, She didn’t deserve it

She was found deceased early Thursday morning.

The bullets pierced through her head and shoulder area, killing her in agony.

We may not know the whole story,

But she didn’t deserve it.

She didn’t deserve to never dance again.

She didn’t deserve to never hold her son in her arms again.

She didn’t deserve to never see her son grow up.

She didn’t deserve to never be able to teach students how to dance again.

She didn’t deserve to never be able to enjoy life again.

She died by the hands of the man she cared for, the man she had a child with.

No man or woman should have to die by the hands of their significant other.


A trail of red liquid followed quietly behind you as you crawl, on your knees, closer to me

You’re pathetic

Your hands are glued together in front of you as you chant your sorrows and apologizes to me

You shouldn’t have wronged me

I, sitting unamused, am holding back a laugh because I knew

I wish I never met you

I knew you’d come back to me

Because there is no one like me

Your karma will come and you’ll regret what you did to me and I knew you’d come back to me

It happens every single time

You should’ve known better than to wrong me

A Child of Horror

I don’t have many memories of being a child. I think it’s because I blocked a lot of stuff out, for my own good, and due to my extremely bad memory. A fond memory I have is watching movies with my dad and creating paper airplanes. I remember we once stayed up all night and created airplanes while watching several horror movies. I don’t know why we did that, but we did and it was a good experience for me. It made me a big horror fan as an adult, but I’m, also, very desensitized to certain stuff like blood and gruesome scenes. It wasn’t his intention – he just wanted to bond with me. In this article, I put together a list of movies that I distinctly remember watching during my childhood and loving.

  1. The Bad Seed (1956)

I believe my parents used to compare me to this movie and I was kinda offended because I wasn’t out here killing people. I was just a little, spoiled brat who (still) didn’t like to be told ‘no’. I don’t remember what age I saw it at, but I know I was younger than nine and I would watch it with my father. The film makes me wonder if people are truly born evil or if they develop the quality from their surroundings and experiences.

  1. The Birds (1963)

Now, this movie? I thought it was really strange and didn’t make any sense to me. I never truly watched it with my parents, but I did see bits and pieces of it. I vividly remember seeing a scene where all these birds just start attacking the main character and I’m just sitting there, bewildered and scared, wondering if that’ll ever happen to me in real life. 

  1. Rosemary’s Baby (1968)

I watched this movie by myself  in my teens, but my parents did talk about this movie and I was intrigued  by it. I can recall hearing my mother talk about the movie, but we never watched it together. When I watched it, I was asking so many questions and was getting mad for the main character. Imagine having the weirdest pregnancy ever, giving birth and being told your baby was stillborn and then finding out your child is actually alive and well and was taken by a satanic cult that your husband is a part of. I would be so livid and everyone would get a taste of my wrath.

  1. Carrie (1976)

This movie was so sad to me, but I was so happy for the main character at the end. I found it weird during the scene where the other girls were bullying Carrie about getting her period like who would care? Even as a little kid, I knew menstrual cycles were a natural thing and happens to almost every woman. You shouldn’t get shamed for it no matter how old or how young you get it. So, as you can tell, I was rooting for Carrie from the very beginning and I could relate to her as well. I would’ve burned the whole school down as well.

These are just a few movies that stick with me past childhood, in a good and bad way. It gave me a sense of the culture that my parents grew up in and made me feel like I was a part of it as well. It’s comforting to have a passion that one of your parents have. I might even pick one of the movies from this list and do a review of them, as an adult. 


We met under the stairs during group therapy.

She wore the deep green dress that brought out her eyes.

We talked until we couldn’t get any more words out.


She kissed me.

On the lips.

It wasn’t the kiss that bothered me,

She was an amazing kisser.

It wasn’t her fingers climbing up my thigh,

I didn’t mind it.

It was the fact that I liked it.

I liked the kiss with Zoe.

I liked the kiss with a girl.

I liked it.

I really, really did like it.

And that scared me more than anything.

Me or You

I believe my love for her came naturally

I happened without force or disruption

She was good to me

She offered me everything a person could offer another

But I had to do it

It was either me or her

And I chose her 

I held her down, my knees on her spine as she scurried below me  

My hands around her throat while she begged and cried for me to stop

She cried 

And I cried

But it was either me or her 

And I chose her

She tried to fight back with the little strength she had

But I just put more weight on her spine and a tighter grip from her neck

She stopped moving 

And I lightened up my grip, but didn’t let go

It was either me or her

And she chose herself

She done, She’s dead 

And now I’m safe

I could finally feel comfortable in my own home again

I loved her, I promise you I did

But I love my normal life 

More than the torture she caused me

Who am I?

After being on this blog, you are probably wondering what kind of fucked up individual would write these kinds of things and experience these kinds of experiences. Well, it’s me, paramour, or just Ari. Ari is a shorthand for my real name and I just prefer it for my professional work. But who am I?

I can be anything you can imagine.

I can be sweet, I can be mean.

I can be helpful, I can be useless.

I can be the greatest friend or lover you ever had, I can ruin your life.

I have the ability to transform myself into any kind of person at any moment with ease. It is a part of who I am. 

But my heart isn’t a part of that. I am a kind and loving person by nature and I am beautiful on the inside and out. But I can easily dismiss all of that and be the coldest person ever, even if it hurts me or my image.

I know how to be cruel and use people’s weaknesses against them and I won’t regret it. I can’t regret it because I don’t regret my decisions or actions because it was planned. Everything I do, every move I make is planned and prepared beforehand. 

I, also, know how to erase it all and lay in my sorrow. I know how to let my emotions surround me and bring me under, bring me towards my death. I will allow myself to waste away and destroy myself if it means I get to feel my own pain. 

I know how to be the person who will give you their last dime, last shirt and the last piece of my heart if it means you will be happy. I will be the shoulder you need in your hardest time and I will let you use my own heart for warmth. I will allow myself to take on your emotions if it means you will be at peace within. 

I can love everyone, but I can hate everyone too.

To put it simply, I am everything and nothing at the same time

And I’m becoming content with that.

Happy Birthday To Me

There’s always a lingering sadness when my birthday comes around

“Hip hip hooray! Another year where I failed to kill myself and the emptiness grows larger”

She towers behind me all the time

Even when I think she’s gone, she’s there

There with her soft hands and smooth belly

So whenever I need to,

I can fall back into her and retreat into my pure,

Worthless self

When he grabs my hair and fucks me from behind,

I don’t feel anything

When HE grabs my hair and fucks me from behind,

I don’t feel anything

When she grabs my throat and kisses me,

I don’t feel a single thing

I thought it was because it was meaningless

I thought it was because I didn’t love them

I thought it was because I wasn’t in the right head space

But no

I have no sense of pleasure anymore

I do things to get a reaction

I seek pleasure

In things that don’t do it for me anymore

It’s draining and I feel broken

And I’m only 18

“Hip hip hooray! I’m broken and used and I’m only 18”


I still hate that boy

Those boys

Sentenced to always be trapped

The hopelessness

I still feel it

First attempt: age 13 ? I just turned 13

Pain pills because my ceiling fan couldn’t support my weight

Prescription pills: age 15

Only had me throwing up because I had to drink mustard water

My legs remained intact and active

More pussy for his thick fingers, not mine

I want to leave this body

Every day

Every moment

Every second

Playing dress up for daddy’s image like a fish in a bowl too small for it to thrive

This is forever?

Trapped in this tie

This cycle

This pathetic tower of self-hatred

Brief flashes of something nice

Of course, it is unhealthy

I’m exposed, punished, tainted

My body isn’t mine

Does a prisoner own their cell? Exactly


Touch me, crush me

And let me sleep like a little girl on a sunday morning

It’s the only thing I’m here for


Oh, my dear, I do not need you

I’ve been given everything I want

Everything I need

And you, my dear,

Think I need you?

Think I desire you?

I live a privileged, fruitful life

If I wanted something,

I could easily get it without trouble

My point is

You are pointless

You are valueless

You are only here for my enjoyment

And I’ve got what I need from you and you are useless to me now