All other sound was blocked. White noise that sounded so much like waves crashing to the shore in an endless barrage was trapping me. Corralling me. Restricting me. Holding me prisoner. I wanted to scream for it to stop. There was nothing keeping me from screaming out my rage and frustration but my own stubbornness. I was better than that. I knew I was better, more in control than the urge to scream conveyed. I reached down expecting to curl my hands into the white sand of the beach but I touched bare flesh instead. Warm flesh. It convulsed under my bruising touch.

Follow up:

I opened my eyes. I was crouching over him with my legs on either side of his waist. Those azure blue eyes stared up at me in fear and something else, a faint look of what? Adoration? Hope? Trust? Those gorgeous blue green eyes that glittered with unshed tears. My hand was around his throat, tight but not choking as long as he didn't struggle. I wanted him to struggle but then again I didn't. I didn't want to hurt him -much. I could willingly spend eternity in damnation if I could stare into those lovely eyes while I lived through all that endless time. His mouth moved and his nostrils flared. He spoke but I couldn't hear his voice. It was muffled by that rush of white noise sounding in my head.

I knew him, this was my Erik. He was tense and scared but even so he looked up at me with such trust. He would let me do whatever I wanted because he loved me. Because I had made him my lover, accepted him as my companion in life. Because I acknowledged all that he was without reservation. Erik. Sweet and dangerous, like the tender flower of the lilac and hemlock. Romantic poets down through the ages had been spouting that there was someone special out there for each of us if we searched long enough. Our soul mate, yes, Erik was mine. At last. His throat convulsed under my palm. I watched fascinated as he licked his lips nervously. Those glorious eyes never left mine.
Maybe one day my soul would be innocent and housed in a pale, chubby body but now it was stained with power and deadly, in a sleek hard body that trembled in a need to be released to rent and tear this young man trembling under me. No. I kept the reins taut and in check. He was not for me to destroy but to create to my desire. I knew it wouldn't be difficult to mould him to my wishes. His skin was smooth and clear with baby fat still clinging to his body and facial features. I would hone that body, those high cheek bones and dissolve that baby fat. His hair was badly dyed black and brittle to a straw-like texture. I would restore life to that abused thatch and make it a shiny crown of silk. I could see beyond the physical. It was a talent that I'd always had. I could look at someone and see their potential, and their true hidden self, I could peek at the dirty thoughts inside their brain, the sins hiding in the darkest corner of their soul. It made them easier to exploit and blackmail, to twist and bend to my will. I could so easily make something ugly and hateful out of him. I could see that weak flutter of innocence waiting to be corrupted... This time, however, I could see what he could become if I chose. What a lovely thing I could make of him if I wanted to and with those eyes and lips...yes I wanted to. He would be mine forever.

That mouth of his, those beautifully formed lips caught my attention the first time I saw him. The way those perfect, expressive lips moved in poetic symmetry as he trembled in panic and excitement, his tremulous smile, it captured me. I leaned forward on one hand then moved until I hovered just above his lips. I could hear the rapid beating of his heart breaking through the white noise. I could feel his blood pulse under smooth skin and my hard hand. Reluctantly releasing my grip on his throat, I snaked my hand around the back of his neck and pulled him up to me. His lips parted without urging so I could taste him. His kisses were sweeter than wine.

And when I got enough of his lips, it was those eyes... those blue green eyes that glowed with such intelligence sealed my desire for him. "My Azure...I'm going to make you mine."

It was Erik but it wasn't. In that timid young man who trembled under my body I saw a beautiful man with soft hair that gleamed with a silken glow. In my mind's eye, I saw what Erik could be. Those around him who were supposed to love him unconditionally had pushed him away and forced him to hide his true self in bad hair dye and fat. Because they were weak, they wanted to turn him into a pale shade of themselves. Not me. I wanted him to stand straight and tall. He was beautiful. The world would crouch as his feet and beg for his attention when his outer packaging matched his inner strength and resolve.

He was going to be a god when I re-made Erik to my specifications.

***

What the fuck was that! I woke tangled in linen sheets. The scent of my own fear filled my nostrils. I wasn't in the master's bedroom. I glanced down at my wrists. The cuffs were still locked on me, nothing had changed there. Looking around I noticed that my location had changed. Where the hell was I? I went to shift off the bed and a sharp pain stole my breath flashed through me. Oh my God. He raped me. Again. But even more brutally. Those previous times weren't remotely as violent as last time. Even when that bastard had me hostage the first time, nothing he did came close to what happened to me in the shower.

Oh God!...tears began to sting my eyes. I need to get the hell out of here. My heartbeat was pounded in my ears. I could feel the pulse in my neck throbbing. I tried to roll over and a sharp agony exploded in my head. I groaned and gingerly lay back down. My hands covered my eyes. Please God, I don't want to go through that again. I don't remember experiencing pain like that. Ever!

"Paging Dr. Kenovich. Paging Dr. Kenovich" A man's warm voice called out from the speakers in the corners of the room.

I must have squeaked or groaned or made more noise that I thought because the tall man known as Antoine, the cane wielding asshole, came to my bedside. Dropping my hand back to the mattress I stared up at him with a ball of fear roiling in my heart. "Sir, you must remain still."

"Or?" My voice was scratchy and dry. I swallowed and bit my bottom lip to suppress a groan as another pain surged through my body.

"The doctor says you need to stay in bed. I have been given leave if necessary to so what is needed to make you lay still. I will strap you down if I have to but I would rather have your cooperation. You have a choice." If I didn't agree I had no doubt that this mountain of a man would have no trouble subduing me. Not because of his size, but because he had all ready already demonstrated that he could restrain and hold me down.

I hurt like hell anyways, so I eased back down on the bed aiming for limp noodle-ness. The air was warm, heavy with tropical moisture and slightly stifling. It would be nice if the air conditioner was turned on but I wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of asking him for that. When my body relaxed, the pain lessened -the slight reduction of pain was better than the level it was at before I lay down. I guess still was better than moving about but I was never going to admit it to that bastard. The windows that took up the side wall were darkened against the late afternoon sun. I figured that it was only an hour or two since He had attacked me in the shower, not the next day yet. My body hurt too much for it to be any later.

How the hell did it happen? Not the getting to the island thing but the sudden violence, the unexpected attack from Him? Before he went all scary on me, he was doing some serious pleasure wrangling. I can't deny it was me making all those noises. I might have wanted to but lying to myself gets me in worse trouble so yeah, Erik knew my erogenous zones. So what happened? I said something. I couldn't recall it. Whatever the trigger, it was lost in the black void of my mind.

"I bet you are wondering how this all happened?" The Russian bitch who until recently was a fond and sexy memory lounged against the door frame. Her taut midriff bare, she had her forearms crossed under her ample breasts, which shoved them up even higher. She cocked her head to one side letting her long blond hair cascade over one shoulder and down her arm. I figured this was just a ploy to get a man's eyes to focus on her boobs, she'd done it before in Tahiti, I'd liked it then. But now...Bitch!

"Greetings, comrade." My voice was low, scratchy and a whole lot of sarcastic.

"Cute. Antoine, could you please get Trevor his lunch. We are going to have a little conversation." Dr. Olga Kenovich rolled her hips into the room. What was that expression? She had a "chewing gum walk." She was built like a woman from the forties, one of those World War II pinups that ended up painted on the side of a bomber. Long hair, long legs, voluptuous curves. Ultimate destruction in a deceptive wrapper.

"I am not supposed to leave him alone, Dr. Kenovich." Antoine met the woman's gaze steadily. She didn't try the boob thing with him. Either she was a snob who didn't fraternize with the hired help or she had tried and it didn't work on him. I think she was an equal opportunity tormentor so either Antoine was gay or suffered from E.D.

"I'm not the one you have to worry about. Erik should be on his meds if he has gotten this unpredictable already." Olga perched on the edge of the bed.

"Don't worry, if Erik comes in, I can put him down." She pat the back of my hand then turned her face back to the behemoth of a mocha toned man in orderly scrubs. "You know how capable I am, Antoine. Now, shoo. Trevor and I need to discuss some things."

Antoine paused for a moment then turned and left the room. Then it was me and the Russian bombshell whose attention was focused on the tropical scene outside my window wall. I toyed briefly with the thoughts of overpowering her but then again why bother? I was on a private island. Where the hell was I going to hide? Under a coconut? And I remembered the strength in that lithe body from the time in Tahiti. Olga was a woman who knew what she wanted and she had no qualms about taking it from your tormented body and you blissfully thanked her for it. I thought that one time we were goofing around as she pinned me to the ground and rode herself to ecstasy on ‘my little pony'. The position was uncomfortable and it hurt but when I tried to shift her, I found I couldn't. Thinking back on it now; that was rape.

What the hell? Did I have "Victim" tattooed on my forehead?

There was a brief pause until she was sure that Antoine was out of earshot and she turned her attention back to me. "Questions...you've got them but first I'm going to tell you a story. Don't pout, Trev. It's not a flattering look for you."

I just kept my eyes forward staring up at the ceiling. I felt like such a chump. The charity trip was before Erik I thought but now it stunk of him. Back then I was overweight, what I liked to call "a little chunky," and pale. I was beyond flattered when this goddess of a woman hit on me at the poolside bar. I got a coconut cup with an umbrella stuck in it from the lady at the end of the bar. I should have known something was off. Pretty doesn't date pudgy. Fact of life 101. She was way out of my league. Based on this depth of this deception, she was so far out of my league that she was playing a different game.

"How old are you?" She ran a hand up to smooth her hair.

Huh? What?

"Do you know?" Olga shifted and lifted a tanned leg up to rest on top of the mattress beside me. My hand knew what the skin of her calf felt like, the back of her knee; the way her muscles moved so sleekly under her flesh. Lies. She is the Empress of Lies.

"I'm twenty-seven." I looked passed her to the open doorway.

"What are you basing that on, love?" A hand reached up and plucked a stray lock of hair off my forehead. She smoothed it off my face. "Hmmm?"

I turned my head away lifting my hand up to rake my overly long hair off my face. I could do without her pity party touches. She was leaning forward trying to pin me with those deep brown velvet eyes. Her perfectly plucked eye brown arched. "So based on that number of twenty-seven, that means you were born in 1981?"

I frowned. No, the nuns told me that I was born in 1975. What was going on? Basic math. I worked in a bank for hells sake and I couldn't calculate how old I was?

"What is your last name?" Olga hovered over me.

"Howell." I had to clear my throat to croak that out.

She shook her head. I actually cringed when she reached out to me. She touched the side of my head and her fingers traced along my scalp until her tips found the long scar that my hair hid. "Where did you get this scar, Trevor? Do you know? Can you remember?"

I turned my head away.

"You can't can you." It was more of statement than an actual question.

"You seem to be the one with all the answers. Why did you stalk me?"

"Stalk you? That is such a harsh term for what we had together. I considered it a pleasurable interlude resulting from our paths crossing." She laid her hand flat on my chest then swept it down towards my groin. I blocked her passage with my wrist and forced her hand off me.

"You've slimmed down and toned up since Tahiti. I think I got screwed." She gave me an artful pout but her velvet eyes gleamed with something a little more sinister than mischief. I was actually scared of her so I resisted the obvious "you got screwed Bitch, how about me? reply.

"What am I doing here? Why is he doing this to me?" I was proud that my voice was steady and tinged with anger. It didn't hint at any of the quivering butterflies that were threatening to stage a riot in my stomach

"Why is he doing this?" Olga cocked her head to one side sending her hair cascading back down her arm and over her breasts.

"He's doing this because this is what you trained him to do. He is what you made him, Trev. This is all you allowed him to be." She could have poured herself over pancakes she was so damned sweet.

Remnants of the nightmare floated up from the darkness. Erik with a younger face. With crude and damaged black hair. With trust and need looking up at me from those damned blue green eyes. Was it a nightmare? Was that memory? I stared back into Olga's brown eyes. There was a sorrow there intermixed with the conviction of truth. No. No. Everyone around me was lying. They were lying to me. Right from the beginning, right from winning that charity raffle trip, these...monsters were laying in wait for me. What have I done to deserve this? Nothing! Nothing! roared in my head. Nothing! stabbed me in my heart.

"What are you talking about? I've never seen him before he kidnapped me from the bank." As soon as those words escaped my lips, I knew they were a lie. I was lying to myself?

Olga gave a big sigh. "Trev. Trev, yes, it would have been better if Erik could have just left you alone but if he did, I don't doubt that you would have been shot in the head a while ago."

Huh?

"He tried traditional methods. Hell, I was against this when Erik brought it up but this was the closest I've seen him back to normal, well as normal as he gets since..." Just from her tone I could tell that Erik wasn't a favourite person of hers.

"I have never seen him before, ever." I repeated sullenly. Why did I suddenly feel like I was lying to a nun? I glanced to the side of the bed, away from her profile.

"Trev...Trevor. You need to listen to me. This is going to save your ass as well as Erik's sanity. This was a train wreck right from the start and I really can't watch it any more. Your name is Trevor Donahue. You took the name of the street the orphanage was on as your last name. You were left at the doorstep March 10, 1975. You are, or I should say, were an undeniable genius. This is YOUR island. YOU created Victor. Everything here, belongs to YOU. Especially Erik Howell."

I tried to sit up and gasped in agony. Olga pressed her hand to my shoulder and easily, way too easily, pushed me flat. "You know him, somewhere locked in here. You know him." She touched my forehead. "If you were just grasping at straws, why would you pick Howell as your last name?"

Her hand was still touching my forehead. Either everyone around me was hot or I was just chilled to the core.

"Who are you? "

Her hand stroked across my forehead and then moved down to cup my cheek. Those brown velvet eyes softened to the colour of sable as they roamed my face. She was searching for something in my expression. She blinked and that sable softness was gone. I guess she didn't find ‘it'. "Once, before Erik, I was your lover; now, I'm just your Doctor. You are a rich and powerful man, Trev. Rich and powerful men get rich and powerful enemies. The only weakness that your enemies could exploit was your precious Azure."

I stiffened. That action sent a sharp yet deep ache ripping through me again.

"Those enemies made an attempt on Erik. They tried to run him down in the street. You knocked him out of the way but you took the brunt of the collision instead. You went into cardiac arrest there on the pavement, Erik performed CPR on you for thirteen minutes before the ambulance could get to you. He knelt in your pool of blood and worked like a madman to keep your heart going. When the ambulance finally arrived they had to use the defibulator on you to get your heart going again. You were dead for at least ten minutes. When they got your heart going again you went from the ER to ICU. You were in critical condition. You had skull fractures and swelling of the brain. The best neurosurgeons rebuilt your skull. That's why that scar is so long. You were in a coma for six weeks. Erik never left your side. He didn't eat. He didn't sleep. I finally had to sedate him and drag his ass out of ICU."

Olga turned her eyes to me, "Does this sound familiar? Or maybe I should ask, does this feel familiar?"

I stared at her. Horrified. She explained everything as if she were narrating a PBS documentary on the mating habits of wildebeests instead of telling a patient he had died of his injuries. Where the hell was the bedside manner that doctors were supposed to have? No it didn't sound familiar but then again, it did FEEL familiar. Azure. Azure was the color of those blue green eyes. My Azure.

"How old are you, Trev?"

My voice was barely a whisper. "33."

"How old is Erik?"

"27?" Olga nodded.

"You're missing five years, love. Those five years are with Erik. Who you are now is nothing like who you were. I can't even say that you are a shadow of your former self because then you were pure shadow. Light wouldn't dare attempt to touch you. You, my love, were an arrogant, condescending, bastard who took what he wanted when he wanted it because he could. You could charm the birds from the trees and if they didn't come when you called them, you cut down the tree and stomped the eggs. When you told people to jump, they jumped. They didn't ask how high, they just jumped. That is the legacy you left for Erik. His living up to your reputation has messed up what was off kilter to begin with." Olga slipped off the bed and stood up. One would never mistake her for a man. She had the curves that were so out of fashion since the Twiggy dates days of boyishness.

How the hell could I know trite junk like that but every time I tried to pull something from the void, I got nothing but a migraine?

Olga reached out and brushed my red hair off my forehead, "Somewhere in that mess of a mind, I think you still really care for Erik. You don't remember me. You don't remember your own name but you remember his. You don't know how much that pisses me off. How far back can you really remember?"

"The orphanage."

"So, this is just the Erik phase that has gone AWOL on you. I find that interesting, from a professional point of view." There was too much of a hint of venom in the Russian's voice to take what she said at face value. This was not professional detachment. I frowned. Didn't she say we were a couple once upon a time? This was personal. There was too much bitterness directed at me for this to be an even bigger deception than the one I was foundering with right now. I was with her then met Erik and left with him? No woman likes to lose to another woman. With what I knew of Olga Kenovich I sincerely doubted that she would take losing her man to another man with grace.

"After you came out of the coma, you were little more than a babe in an incubator. The secure Rehab clinic we had you transferred to had to teach you how to walk. Your speech was slow but that came back quickly. Your reading ability wasn't affected, neither was your writing except for the tremors in your hands but that was gone in less than six weeks. You should have been dead, Trevor or at the best, a vegetable but you didn't die and you didn't stay a vegetable. You were incredibility lucky. Then again, you've always seemed to have a charmed life."

When the hell was I lucky? I was an orphan. I had my skull crushed. I was five years older than I thought I was. I taught that blonde haired, blue-green freak to rape me? Again, this is all based on Olga's story and I wasn't too sure how much I could trust her. I'd been between her legs. God, Erik had been between mine. The thought of both happenings made my head hurt.

"Erik brought in the best therapists and psychoanalysts' that money could buy and they all recommended that we not tell you a damn thing about yourself. You were to bloom in your own time and it would be in the best interest to allow your psyche to find your own way." Again just from her tone, I could tell what she thought of the specialists, which apparently wasn't much.

"You got well enough in two months that you took a runner on us, Trev."

"My name is Trevor." I hated the shortened form.

"I know, love. I'm still a little pissed off at you. I'm working on it." She reached out and brushed my hair back from my face again. This is why I kept it short. The slight curl just begged for someone to run their hands through it. Hers was a touch of familiarity but nothing more than that. The fond memories of the wanton goddess of the black sands were tainted and had turned to ash in my mouth. She was nothing more than my Ex -if she wasn't lying again.

"You were laying there at death's door. Erik literally dragged you back from the abyss. Two months later, you get out of bed and walk out into the night. By the time we found you, I couldn't believe what you had built for your identity."

"Trev, you stole Erik's life once, and then you went and did it again. You appropriated what he was before you got a hold of him. College student. Bank Teller. Frustrated Writer. I personally think it was an attempt at atonement for what you did to him."

"What I did to him? What I DID!"

"You don't have the right to get upset, Trev."

"Aside from you suddenly showing up in Tahiti I have never seen you before in my life. How the hell do I know if you are telling the truth or lying through your lovely capped teeth?"

"Ignorance is bliss, eh? We tried that little scenario and you ran off. I'm sure you don't want to hear this but you're a sexual predator, Trevor. You set your sights on Erik and you ran him to ground. You gave him no options. What he's doing now, is what you did to him. You took a naive young man, marooned him here and basically tortured him into your vision of what he is now. If I had known what you were doing I would have tried to rescue him. I know you think I'm nothing more than a bitch but I do take my Doctor's degree seriously. Erik couldn't stand up to you when you first took him. What you did to him is unforgiveable. You broke him. You ruined him for life away from you then you went and died on him. He went off the deep end, Trevor. Erik went off the deep end and he's never come back - because you've never come back to him."

She stood up and looked down at me. Her face was dark with emotion and her eyes flared with...something. "You stole his life once, Trevor. Even injured, you took over the life he had before you took him and made it your own. You left him nothing but what you made of him before you walked away that night."

"I don't remember any of this. This scar on my head could have been just something from childhood. For all I know this is nothing but another way to try and get me to cooperate with that blonde psycho sadist."

"That's something that has always been consistent with you, Trev. You always were a stone cold bastard. You took an innocent and twisted him unto your own image. You've made a monster...and now that you're a normal person, which you never were before -- you are horrified by him. You fucked him up. You fix him."

"I don't believe a thing you're saying."

"Hard work isn't something you shied away from. Everything here, you achieved through the sweat of your brow."

I was grasping at straws, "If we were lovers, this is just spite."

Olga turned and looked at me with disgust. "Pettiness is not an emotion I give into. We were as one in this regard, love. If something or someone got in our way, we ran over it. I lost to Erik. I did everything I could to hold onto you and all he had to do was smile and that was it. We are a matched set, Trev. Erik used to be your polar opposite. I used to thank God that Erik was spared when someone tried to run him down; that you took the blow to him meant to make you pay for your sins."

She turned back toward the darkened windows. "How to God, I wish it was him now. Seeing what he has become because of his love for you. You left a void in the world you lived in, Trevor Donahue, when you fell from grace. Someone had to fill it. The Devil fell into the abyss and was lost to the world but someone had to become the Devil's Advocate. Erik became Azure in your name. Everything he has done in the past five years has been in your name. Will you even try to step back into your old life? Will you take over again and turn him back into just your disciple rather than your replacement? Will you make his life easier because right now he is living in a hell of your making? Doesn't he even deserve for you to make the attempt for his loyalty to you for the last five years?"

"Bbb..ut I'm not gay, I can't do what he wants." I was grasping at straws and I knew it.

"You fuck anything that walks, Trev. You can't pick who you love. You corrupted an innocent. Somewhere, inside of you he's got to mean something to you. Otherwise why did you pick the name Howell? Why a bank teller? You jumped in front of a racing car to save him once, Trev. And he kept you from falling completely into the abyss. It's time that you saved him, you need to drag him back from the edge of Hell. The edge he teeters on because of you." Olga didn't look back at me. She stared out at the palm trees and manicured grass just beyond the dark glass of my room

"I don't know him...I don't remember him. I don't remember anything!" My voice was strained.

"If you can't save him, Trev. If you have any humanity at all in your soul, kill him. Don't let him suffer any more. He wasn't a bad kid, until you got a hold of him. If you can't...ask me. I'll do it."

I didn't bother to try and mask the horror I felt. "You're making this up. Nobody talks about killing someone like putting a dog down. You're working with him...trying to confuse me."

"You were not called "the Devil" just for your charm, Trev." Olga turned back towards the bed. "Victor, tv panel down. Play DVD 1213. Your world thinks you're dead, Trevor. This DVD is a package of your greatest hits. Watch it. Learn from it then tell me that a twenty-two year old Erik Howell had a snowball's chance in hell of getting away from you when you got your claws into him."

Horror. Antipathy. Cruelty. Loathing. Treachery. Detestable and Debauchery. These were things that wore my face. There were no recollections. No moment of hallelujah when all the floodgates of memory opened and my past was revealed. This was an expose. The only reason it was made was that "The Devil" was dead. This stranger with my visage walked the screens in five thousand dollar suits. Everything presented in the DVD was speculation and circumstantial evidence but it was told with that sly tone that just drove home that fact that it was more than likely more real than the public face of the Mensa candidate and the philanthropic computer genius. Then the other side of the mirror was revealed; the Extortionist; the Human trafficker; Drug Lord; War Lord and suspected terrorist. About forty-five minutes into the program, blonde hair began to appear off my left shoulder. He looked young. He looked frightened. He was dressed like a prostitute. The program continued but my eyes were drawn to that face. His clothes got better. He didn't cringe in the background anymore. He moved from walking behind the Devil to standing at his side. Then there was a paparazzi moment of flashing cameras and jiggly video footage of a body being loaded into the back of an ambulance. The blonde haired man climbed in, tears running down his face. There was a wickedly close up zoom of watery blue green eyes.

Erik.

I sat stunned watching the program. People actually danced in the streets when it was announced that ‘The Devil' was dead.

Sometime during the running of the DVD, Antoine had returned with lunch. I wasn't hungry and I left it untouched. When the flat plan screen finally faded to black I lay down and curled into myself. I didn't remember. I couldn't remember. I DIDN'T WANT TO REMEMBER. I wanted to stand up and scream that it wasn't me. That it couldn't be me, because I wasn't capable of doing any of those things. I was raised by nuns. They taught me the ways to walk the path of the righteous. I was a good Catholic boy. I shouldn't have been able to do anything of those horrid things.

But...but...but

I couldn't debate it. I couldn't deny it. How can you, when the face of ‘The Devil' is your own?