by A. E. Murphy
“Why didn’t you want me?” I cry, soaking his shirt.
“I’m so sorry. So sorry. I should have been there.” His kisses my hair, his own arms trembling. “I should have been there.”
“Don’t go,” Stanley begs as I pile my clothing into my suitcase that I fixed myself when I first arrived. “Please, Scandal.”
“That’s not my name,” I whisper, grabbing more things and throwing them in. Tears I thought had dried start to flow again. “I don’t have a name.”
“Where will you go? What will you do? What about school?”
“Don’t concern yourself with me. Exactly how you didn’t for the past ten years of my life.”
He struggles to find the words and silence passes between us. “I love you.”
“Too late.”
“It’s never too late to forgive.”
I blink at him slowly. “I will never forgive you for this.”
Lane appears in the doorway, also puffy-eyed and disheveled. I hope she’s hurt. I hope they both feel the pain as I walk out that door and they never see me again.
“Let me handle this,” Stanley pleads.
I snort because what is there to handle? Me? Am I to be handled?
She still speaks anyway. “He thought he was leaving you with a wealthy and loving family. He got monthly updates on your progress. He stalked you online even though it upset me. Don’t blame Stanley for what happened to you. Blame me. I deserve it.” When I don’t answer and keep packing, she just keeps on fucking going. “He thought you were happy until you went to prison for murder. Who do you think paid for your defense attorney? He sat in the back the day you were charged. Your uncle told him you were psychotic, crazy, demented, and Stanley never believed him, he always knew something else was going on.”
I zip up my suitcase and lift it from the bed. My arms are like jelly.
“Move,” I demand of him but he doesn’t budge and neither does she. “I asked nicely.”
“When you got out and were found guilty, Stanley came for you but your uncle wouldn’t let him see you, wouldn’t relinquish guardianship. The only reason he got it this time is because of Dr. Conway and her ties in the world. That’s the only reason you’re here. We wanted to help you and look, it wasn’t too late, you’re happy here. We all love each other. Your grades in school are better than we hoped, you’re part of a dance team, you’ve got two boys vying for your affection.”
I place my jewelry box in my suitcase and zip it up.
“I can’t let you leave, Scandal,” Stanley insists. “I’m not letting you go again.”
“You didn’t let me go the first time, you fucking forced me to go.” I think back to that day and try to recall something. “Did you even hug me goodbye?”
His silence is everything.
“You’re a bad person, and no amount of raising somebody else’s kid is going to redeem you after what you did to me. Now move out of my fucking way.” They still don’t move. “You can’t watch me every second of every fucking day. I’ll go eventually. Why delay the inevitable?”
“And where will you go? What do you have out there?” Stanley asks, further digging the knife in. “Please just stay another week, think about what you’re doing.”
I move to the window and push it open, grab my suitcase, and peer down at the flowerbeds below.
“If you don’t let me leave, I’m going out the window. If you lock it, I’ll smash it.”
He finally steps to the side and so does Lane and they watch me drag my suitcase out of there.
I pass Presley who is sitting in his old room, which is now Paisley’s room, on the soft pink rug playing with dolls. He stands when he sees me and I stop and look him in the eye.
“I told you I loved you,” I say to him and he nods. “And you never said it back. You just abandoned me like everyone else.”
I keep going until I hit the stairs and drag my heavy suitcase down them.
I don’t know where I’m going, or how I’m getting there. I have too much stuff, I need to condense it all into a backpack but I don’t have a backpack either.
Carter is still parked at the end of the drive, leaning against his car with his hands tucked into his pants. He hears me approach and looks up.
No words come from his lips as he takes my suitcase. Presley says nothing as he guides me to the car. And neither whisper a thing as Presley buckles me in, places his hand on my thigh, and Carter starts to drive.
In a daze I find myself crawling into Presley’s bed after he helps me out of my sneakers. I can hear them whispering but they don’t talk directly to me, not until Carter sits beside me and places his hand on my bare arm.
“Are you thirsty?”
I think I might be but I can’t be sure.
I start to tremble, I’m not even sure that I’m cold.
“Can we just pretend that we didn’t fuck up everything between us, and can you both just lie with me,” I whisper pleadingly, my eyes closed so I don’t have to see their rejection.
No time passes when I hear zippers being unzipped and shoes being dropped. The bed dips on both sides of my body and they both climb in on either side of me. Presley pulls me into his T-shirt-clad chest and brings us forehead to forehead. I lock my thigh between his. He must have taken his jeans off so I wouldn’t be uncomfortable.
Carter presses against my back and holds my arm and shoulder as he places a gentle kiss on my neck.
I release a staggered breath and start crying again.
“It’s so unfair,” I whisper and Presley kisses my lips. “It’s so unfair.”
“People are dicks,” Carter breathes against my skin.
“Us included,” Presley adds.
“I just want to stay like this forever with both of you. I don’t want to leave this moment.”
I think I fall asleep for a while because the world goes dark, and when I wake up, Carter isn’t in bed with me anymore but Presley is. I can hear Carter somewhere outside the room, talking on the phone I think. I can hear his voice but nobody else’s.
I blink open my stinging eyes and Presley smiles at me and cups my cheek with his hand.
“I love you too,” he speaks so softly I hardly hear it. “You have me. Always. No more running. No more being a dick.”
The foundations for a fixing heart set in place as I stare into his light eyes that look more blue than gray today and see his feelings just as he said. There’s no lie there. He loves me too, but then I always knew he did.
I kiss him, softer than I ever have. I kiss him and taste him. I need him.
My hands go under his shirt and feel his muscles and chest, they quiver under my touch. His hands explore mine too, also digging in with just the right amount of pressure.
“I need you,” I breathe pleadingly and I see him hesitate. “Please.” I crush my lips to his. “I need you.”
He groans when I grasp his hardness over his boxers, he shudders when I yank them down.
His hands go to my pants, and in his haste to get them off, I feel the button come away entirely. He pushes them down to my knees and I kick them off the rest of the way.
I grab him and roll him on top of me, groaning when he immediately sinks inside without warning. He cries out loudly and I hear Carter’s voice stop.
Presley gets rougher, thrusting in and out. I feel every solid inch of him rubbing me in all the right ways. His breathing gets heavier and my moans become louder and more incontrollable.
When the door opens, we don’t stop, and Carter, for a moment, just stares.
I reach my hand out to him wondering if he’ll take it or leave.
Surprisingly, he takes it and starts to drop his pants.
“Get on top,” he says to me and Presley stops moving, looks over his shoulder and raises his brow.
“We doing this?” he asks his friend.
“We’re doing this,” Carter confirms with a flash of his eyes.
With some wriggling, Presley rolls us both so
he’s on his back and I’m on top. He pulls out, letting his wet, hard length rest along his hip. I feel empty.
Carter comes up behind me and lifts my shirt over my head and they both maneuver out of theirs. I love looking at them, touching them, feeling their skin against mine.
“Do you trust us?” he utters in my ear and bites on the lobe. A zap of pleasure shoots down my body making me shudder.
“After this week, that’s debatable.”
He narrows his eyes, turning my face so he can look into mine. “Is that a no?”
I shake my head. “I trust you.”
“Good.”
Carter sinks inside my pussy and Presley teases my nipples, rubbing his wet hardness against my clit with gentle thrusts of his hips. I groan and rock slightly.
I don’t get a chance to feel much of anything because Carter pulls straight out again and rolls the head of his cock against my ass. I blink, eyes widening and I see Presley smile secretly, like he knows something I don’t. He works my clit with his thumb and Carter starts to push and pull, trying to open me up.
This isn’t my first time, so I know to relax, but Carter is quite large… still… we manage it. I grimace and Carter curses loudly.
“Whoa… that’s tight.”
“Go slow,” Presley instructs him, eyes on my face. “She’s still feeling it.”
It’s insane. I’ve never felt anything like this. Before it just hurt, but this is like nothing else. I squirm slightly as the burning pain mingles with the tingling zaps from my clit as Presley works it. I feel full, yet hollow and find myself pushing back.
“That’s it,” Carter whispers, cupping my breasts and sucking my skin and ear. He flutters his lips over my hairline.
“Get her right down the center of her neck, she loves that.” Presley grins at me and I find myself smiling back. He knows me, he knows my body. Not completely but he has been paying attention. Just like I discovered he likes having his nipples licked and teased, and he loves it when I bite his lower lip.
Carter pushes a bit more and there’s more pain, but then what follows is more pleasure. I gasp and groan, delirious, needing to move but feeling too full.
“I’m in,” he confirms with a grunt. “Fuck, this is… incredible.”
“My turn.” Presley lines up with my sex which is slippery as fuck right now, and slowly, with a bit of maneuvering beneath me, he guides himself in and blinks with surprised delight. “Well… that’s new.”
“What is?”
“I mean… it was intense already but, fuck, it feels even tighter now.”
Carter starts to move properly, sliding in and out slowly and I’m in such a state of pleasure I feel as though I’m going to black out. It hurts at first, but with my clit being manipulated, my tits being played with, my mouth on Presley’s and Carter’s tongue on the back of my neck, I come almost immediately.
It rips through me so hard and fast and powerful that I scream and jerk so hard they both hold me still.
The guys get more enthusiastic, fucking me in time with the other so I don’t get hurt.
Carter holds my limp body up which is still static with whatever it is they’re doing to me. Presley continues working me down below.
It’s too much. The sound of our moans, the heady scent, the hands and touches and caresses. The three of us together. The fact we’re all joined like this.
“I’m sorry that I love you both,” I breathe, trying not to sob, but not from sadness, from another impending climax. “I’m sorry I couldn’t choose.”
“I’m not sorry.” Carter pulls my head so he can kiss me. “I’m not sorry that I love you too and I never will be.”
“Me too,” Presley confirms. “I’m not sorry for any of it. You shouldn’t be either.”
My eyes roll into the back of my head, my body locks down tight and a hand covers my mouth as I climax again, this time bringing them with me. Carter pulls out and I feel his come splash across the curve of my ass. Presley does the same but his lands on his stomach.
We stay like this for a moment, panting, dazed, incredibly sated. The moment between us lingers, so incredibly sexy and surreal.
Then Carter guides me to the shower and cleans every inch of my body with Presley’s loofa. Another intimate act shared between the three of us despite the fact there are only two of us. Presley is ordering food and there isn’t space for him if we tried.
“You’re a flame in the dark, Carter.”
“I was going to say the same about you.”
“Are you still mad with me?”
“No,” he replies softly and presses his lips to mine. “I was just… in a dark place.”
I press my wet cheek against his wet chest and we stand like this, holding each other in the tiny shower under the warm spray. “I missed you.”
“I missed you more.”
“Things were so easy a week ago. Why did she have to tell me? Why did I have to know about Stanley?”
His wet arms squeeze tight until Presley hands Carter a towel. They swap places and Presley wraps me in another towel that smells like Lane’s laundry, which is likely who got it for him and washed it. This makes what remains of my heart ache terribly.
“You really smashed up his car,” Presley comments wryly, he looks more impressed than upset.
I’m sitting opposite him on the bench, wearing his boxers and Carter’s shirt. My foot is on the seat and my knee is against my chest. I pick at the rice on my plate, not really hungry but knowing I should eat.
My mind won’t shut off.
“Hey.” Carter places his hand on my knee. “We’re here for you. You’re not alone.”
But I am, because they’ll go back to hating me when they realize I still can’t choose, and I can’t sit around and watch them move on.
Carter shows no envy when he leaves us alone for the night, he simply kisses my forehead and tells me he’ll be back tomorrow. Except tomorrow I’m probably not going to be here.
“Girl on Fire, I’ve been waiting for you,” Mistress Molly says with a soft smile. “I’ve never seen a child so troubled.”
“I need to ask you something,” I say, approaching the counter with my hood down. It’s the first time I’ve taken it down since I borrowed twenty dollars from Presley’s pocket as he slept this morning and skipped out to catch the first bus to New Orleans. I’ll pay him back one day.
“I know.”
“Do you know what I need to ask?”
“I do.”
“And you couldn’t have just called me to save me the trip?”
“No, because I have something to give you.” She smiles softly, making her golden-brown eyes light up like fireworks. Though there’s a dangerous undertone to her existence, she emanates good vibes. I don’t feel unsafe around her, just weirded out.
“What?”
She places a red crystal in my palm, the size of my thumb, and closes her hand over mine. It digs into my skin uncomfortably and I mentally freak out when she starts whispering under her breath and my arm tingles as though I’ve held it in the wrong position for too long. It goes dead, burning with pins and needles.
Then she steps back and my arm feels okay. When I open my hand, the crystal is gone.
“What the fuck?”
She laughs under her breath. “Incredible, right? Magic, gris-gris always is.”
“Magic?”
“You’re skeptical, rightfully so. It’s for the best. Trust me.”
I stare at my hand and flex my fingers, trying to find any trace of the crystal. It likely slipped up her sleeve, nothing more than a parlor trick.
She hands me a mug of tea after forcing me to sit in an armchair in the far end of the store. She sips her own after claiming the seat opposite me and we both look out the window at the early morning passersby.
“What did the crystal do?” Even though I’m skeptical, I’m curious.
She holds her mug on her lap and I look at her sparkling black nails, like glitteri
ng onyx against dark brown skin. “It protected you.”
“From what?”
“From the outcome of your final question.”
I blink slowly. “And what was I going to ask?”
“Three things,” she replies, holding up three fingers and smirking. “First, will you ever forgive your father?” My heart stops and she checks a finger off, now holding two. How does she know that’s what I wanted to ask? There’s no way I can blame Alice this time because she didn’t know I was coming. “Second, can you have them both and all be happy.” Holy shit… no way. “Three, if you go against your uncle, will he defeat you?”
“W-what are the answers?” I stammer, wetting my mouth with the sweet, calming tea.
“I cannot answer your first question, forgiveness comes from the deepest parts of you. It is more a choice and an inner acceptance. It is also a gift that nobody else can force you or tell you to give.”
Then, that’s a no.
“But… I can tell you that he feels very sorry for what he did and there was no way he could have known what would happen to you.”
“How do you know this?”
“Magic,” she answers on a light whisper. “It is always incredible.”
I almost don’t dare go on. To know what may happen before it does is a heavy burden. I feel bad for her if she truly can see the future. “What about Presley and Carter?”
With a dreamy sigh she plucks two roses from the air with both hands at the same time. They seem to materialize from nothing. One is light blueish gray, like Presley’s eyes, though the edges are slightly wilting brown. The other is dark brown, almost black, like Carter’s eyes and that too is wilting.
She leans forward and hands them to me. “Mind the thorns on the next one.”
With a final wave of her hand, she produces another beautiful rose, this one dark blue, like my eyes. This one has so many jagged spikes on the stem. The petals are so few, as though it has been plucked many times.
She passes it to me and I take it, holding it gently yet it still pricks my finger with a sharp sting, drawing blood.
“Put them together,” she urges softly and waits.
