An Apple A Day (Wattys2019)

Epilogue

Miles

10 Years Later

"Hey. Hey it's awake time!"

"Mmm good morning," my sleepy head rises from the pillow and I stare at Doc. His hair is dishevelled and matted to cover most of his face. He smiles prettily against the morning sunlight. The man I adore stretching against the headboard with a mug of steaming coffee, ruffling my bedhead. I sit up beside him, sleepily rubbing my eyes and staring down at our fresh white bedsheet. "What time is it?"

"Half six, I let you sleep in," Doc explains, apparently still tired himself. It makes sense - he'll be going straight back to sleep after I leave for my first day at work. "You looked like you needed it,"

"I did," I admit with a smile, yawning internally as I swing my feet over the edge of the bed. "I don't wanna gooo," I whine loudly, dreading my first day as a data analyst for Apple, my first ever job since gaining my degree in Economics under the false name 'Dominic Michaels'.

"You'll be fine," Doc assures me. "Besides, this will give me a chance to plan for our 10- year anniversary next week!"

I smile in gratitude, leaning in for a final kiss before I reluctantly pull away, walking to the bathroom to shower before I leave, dreading every turn I take leading me to this horrendous skyscraper that is my new cell from 9-5, six days a week.

The clean, minimalist whiteness of everything engulfs me when I walk in, my only respite the gleaming black screens of products set along smooth benches. Groaning I use my ID to scan through, getting in the elevator and ascending to the back offices - which thankfully are a little less shiny - and taking a seat at the desk apparently reserved for me, a mahogany nameplate resting on the front.

Over the screen separating desks a man stands opposite mine. Six foot or so, mid thirties and an unappealing sneer on his top lip. "Who are you?" He asks, smirking grossly before adding. "Scarface,"

This makes my cheeks heat up and I glare evilly at him. Most people don't mention them, but my scars hold more pride to me than anything. A gift from Doc, trophies of each improvement he's made to me over the years. Insulting them is an insult to the best part of me. How I'd love to have him on my operating table. But I can't, I must remain focused. Against every fibre of my being I smile back sweetly at him.

"I'm Mi- Dominic, the new data analyst," I lie, logging in on my iPad and pretending to view spreadsheets. "If you don't mind I'm busy,"

"Don't get tetchy Scarface - you just got here," he laughs like I'm meant to be finding this familiar and amusing. It's not, it enrages me. Under the table I pinch my thigh harshly, clenching my jaw and grinding my teeth to stop myself strangling him. "Since you didn't ask, the name's James. Finance analyst,"

"Good for you," I roll my eyes, grumbling incoherent growls of displeasure as I zone out actually do begin to work, focusing on something other than this asshole. That is, until he slams his hand in front of my screen.

"You're a real weirdo, you know that?" He challenges, leaning his tall, beefy body with his chest puffed out over my desk like that's meant to ducking intimidate me.

"And you're a real prick," I snap back, glaring darkly at him. "Leave me alone if you know what's good for you," he stalksoff and I get back to my task, trying to ignore the biting anger building inside me.

When I get home I slam the front door, letting the entire house vibrate from the sound. I lean against it, slamming the points of my shoulder blades until they tender and bruise before I slide down it, burying my head in my hands. "Fuck... fuck!" I seethe through gritted teeth, tears appearing at my eyes. I despise being talked down to, especially by entitled asshats like James.

"You okay?" Doc must have heard from upstairs. He pads down in his robe and slippers, kneeling down to face me. His body is still much longer and wider than my own, making him feel like my comforting parent. "What happened?"

"This asshole," I angrily sniffles and wipe away my tears, hating myself just as much as him now. I still dislike showing weakness in front of Doc. "Fucking Jim or some shit. Asshole,"

"Do you want me to take care of it?" He asks, deadly serious but his voice casual and familiar, like he's asking to borrow my textbook.

"No. It's fine," I assure, turning my head away in shame. I don't want to look at Doc and I don't want him to look at me either. I feel so ashamed to be incapable of handling that kind of person. This is why I stayed with Doc all along, to escape the arrogant assholery of the outside world.

1 Week Later

Every day I've been forced to endure James. Snarky comments and bumping into me in the corridor like he wants me to snap, trying to force me into exposing myself. Throwing around that weight and charm, flaunting the only gift he has, that of charisma. I'm so much smarter, so much better than that cretin yet he enjoys the pleasures of this office and I rot in the pits of outcast Hell as the social pariah of the workplace.

So you can imagine how happy I was when he didn't show up to work today.

It's been 10 years today since Doc and I made our relationship official, after my Initiation ritual. So I was more than surprised he was gone this morning. We fell asleep together but he was nowhere to be found when I woke up. So I came to work assuming he'd be doing shifts at the GP clinic and of course my day was so much better without James breathing down my neck about the 'odd' way I hold a pen or something equally innocuous but simultaneously threatening.

When I get home I'm ambushed by Doc who was hiding behind the door. He grabs my waist, pulling me against him.   Dressed in nothing but his lab coat he grinds against my hips, wrapping his arms loosely around my shoulders and leaning in, so much that I'm backed against the door and his face is inches from mine.

"Have a good day?" He asks knowingly, voice filled with syrupy smug satisfaction.

"Yeah, I actually did," I grin back, kissing him on the lips. "Now what did you get me?"

Doc chuckles a little. "Well, it's a surprise. You have to follow me," he covers my eyes with his hands like a blindfold and leads me around the house. I can't see it but I can feel his childish smile in anticipation of praise and affirmation. His happiness makes me smile too.

We reach the stairs and descend to his operating room, the place that used to be my source of agony that's now my source of the most wonderful pleasure. He removes his hands and I open my eyes.

"Oh Doc, I love it!" And I do, so much tears spring into my eyes. "This is the best anniversary present ever!"

And it is. Writhing and naked like a pig to the slaughter lies James from work, strapped to the operating table by heavy leather cuffs. Red raw abrasions scratch across his ankles and wrists, getting worse, ripping through his skin as he struggles. Wells develop on his calves and I watch the veins pulse under his gross skin.

"He's all yours," Doc hands me his tool tray, sliding it across until I can reach everything. He retreats to the corner, sitting in a seat and crossing him arms, preparing to watch a magnificent show.

"Hello James," I walk up beside him, ripping off his blindfold but keeping the gag in his mouth. His eyes bulge when he sees me, locked wide open in terror, everything frozen before it erupts into powerful seizures, that huge body on the table.

"You're my anniversary present," I explain, picking up the scalpel and running it down my tongue, creating a sensual show for my partner in the corner before I hold it against James' chest. "And you better be worth it, because I'm about to ruin this suit,"

I begin my first incision, watching thick blood bubble from under my blade. Thanks, Doc.

The End

Oooookay I loved writing this. It was my first original story on here and I'd love to do another!
Thanks for reading. 💙