The End

By dawn, the police had heard his story. The officers and detectives exchanged glances with each other, barely hiding their smiles. As soon as they left the interrogation room, they exploded with laughter. He’d never been so humiliated, not even at the hands of mistress. He was interviewed dozens of times by different people, each of them smirking like the last one. He finally realized they were messing with him. No one believed him. They thought he was crazy or on **** or something. He wept, laying his head down on the table.

When the next jeering detective came through the door, he pushed past him, muttering that he needed to use the bathroom. He went straight for the front door and ran down the front steps, tears clouding his vision. Tires screeched and he stopped in his tracks, wiping his eyes. A black sedan had almost hit him. His chest hurt from crying. Kasia stepped out of the sedan and he felt only momentary terror, which was quickly subsumed by relief. Mistress stepped out, too. She looked at him with sympathy and he broke down completely. They guided him into the car and drove to a parking spot, where they both climbed into the backseat and cuddling him, comforted him. He cried and cried as they ran their fingers through his hair, telling him it would be okay.

“We’ll take care of you, baby,” they cooed. He hugged both of them, one in each arm. They were his safety. They were his goddesses.

They went back home.

Kasia and mistress had been muttering to each other about using the spells more consistently.

“This shit isn’t real,” Kasia said. “It’s all in his head.”

“How can you possibly think that, after everything you’ve seen?” Mistress implored. “We slacked off on the spells and look what happened!”

They performed a ritual as soon as they arrived home. The black man was still in the house, still naked.

“He took my clothes!” He said. Kasia disrobed the man and tossed him the shorts and sweatshirt.

“Get dressed and get out,” she said, a little sharply. Jealousy? Kasia didn’t like that mistress had men on the side. The black man left.

The nameless **** sat there, feeling like he weighed a thousand tons. There was no rebellion left in him. The old memories remained somewhere, dim and unreachable, like objects sunk beneath the dark water of the ocean. Darkness fell. Candles were lit and an old book was opened. Kasia and mistress held hands, chanting, speaking in tongues he had never heard before. Comfort washed over him like a warm tide. Grateful for the relief, he waited for instructions. He loved when the basement door opened. He was anxious when it closed.

“I deserve this,” he thought to himself incoherently. “I don’t know why, but I know I do.” Deep down, he knew he had tried to do this to her. She was just better at it.