by Lacey Alpha
Her cheeks flush a little. “Oh, you know, the usual stuff.”
“Like?” I press, hopeful.
She sighs, her shoulders dropping as her guard comes down. “Don't laugh, okay?”
“I promise.”
“I like romance films.”
“Oh,” I breathe. Romance, that's what she cries about. Is she lonely? As lonely as me?
She dips her head, shy.
I'm enraptured by that expression. “There's nothing to be embarrassed about.”
She tilts her head up, her eyebrows furling. “No?”
I shake my head in confirmation.
She clears her throat, breaking a small smile. “What do you like to watch?”
I shrug. “I don't watch much TV.”
She nods, sipping her tea, finishing it. And I'm pained that our time here is already coming to an end.
“I brought you here to buy you coffee as thanks, but you've given me nothing to buy.”
I sip my water, thinking up a response. “Well, like I said, there's no need to thank me. I wasn't going to stand by and watch you get mugged.”
“I'd like to thank you all the same.”
“Then do.”
“Thank you,” she laughs and I smile again. How does she do it? Bring the light out in me? I feel like I'm being raised from beneath the waves, gazing up at the sunlight playing on the surface.
“You're welcome.”
I take out my wallet to pay.
She shoos me away. “You're not buying – I asked you here, so I'll get it.”
“I'd like to.” I take out a five pound note, fighting to hold her burning gaze. Her eyes narrow on me and I have to glance away, feeling like flames are heating my back.
“Really, I insist.” She reaches across the table, her fingers pushing the note into my fist, her skin grazing mine. It's electric, jolting through to my very core.
I'm overwhelmed by the urge to respond and ever-so-slightly brush my fingers against her knuckles.
I hear her inhale like it's the only sound in the room. Snapping my eyes up, I find her looking at me like I'm everything she's ever wanted. It's unnerving, knowing she's seeing a lie. I've caused this, now I need to fix it.
Tell her what you are, tell her you're a monster.
“Annalise,” her name rolls over my tongue. It feels good to say it; Clarissa never allows me to do so in our sessions. “I appreciate you asking me here, but I shouldn't have come.”
She extracts her hand and I automatically lean after her.
“Oh. Do you have a girlfriend?”
The question takes me by surprise. I shake my head dumbly and her cheeks turn rose pink.
“Okay. I understand,” she murmurs, getting to her feet, evidently thinking I'm not interested in her.
I stand immediately, my throat constricting. I can't let her go, something inside me is fighting to keep near her.
“I didn't mean-” Words fail me.
Don't let her think you're attracted to her, scum.
I blink away the voice.
“You didn't mean..?” She raises a brow, her body language becoming standoffish.
“I think you're resplendent,” I blurt, the truth choking it's way out of my throat. “You blind me.”
She looks taken aback, her hand moving slowly to her breast, resting on her heart. “Ethan...”
My name from her lips is divine. I'm in awe, watching her watching me, both of us frozen in place.
“Walk me home,” she insists and I nod without a thought.
I place the five pound note down and she glances at it, looking like she wants to refuse again. I fix her with a stare and she remains silent.
She moves out of the booth and I follow, just behind her, eyeing the small of her back. I place my hand there, holding the door open for her as we exit.
She moves into me, her hip rubbing mine as we head outside. It's a perfect spring day; the wind is cool but the sky is cloudless and bright, the scent of blossom and pollen hanging in the air.
I drop my hand as she leads the way down the road.
I'm hypnotised by the way her hair bounces on her back, the sunlight picking out tones from deep gold to shining bronze and subtle copper.
We say nothing but I don't feel the need to, her company plenty to occupy me.
By the time we arrive outside her flat, my thoughts are sharp, my heartbeat rising.
I know I shouldn't have come but the second I leave her company, I may never see her again. I won't be able to follow her now that she knows me. Perhaps this is a blessing in disguise.
Or perhaps your sordid mind is trying to justify your actions.
Annalise turns, her hair catching in the wind, drawn behind her. “Thank you for paying.”
I nod, already having forgotten I did so.
She moves toward me in a flash, slipping her arms around me, clutching my jacket. The sweet cherry scent of her hair overwhelms my senses. I shut my eyes, folding my arms around her, breathing in deeply.
She goes slack in my arms, her fingers tightening on my body.
I long to feel more of her, every single part.
Running my fingers into her hair, I caress her neck beneath it, trailing my thumb in soft strokes.
Her breath heats my chest through my shirt. She pulls back an inch, glancing up at me beneath her lashes. I'm undone by her expression, seemingly seeing straight into my soul, gazing at the darkness and staying put all the same.
My grip tightens on her and she releases a soft sigh. “Goodbye Ethan.”
“Goodbye,” I echo but neither of us move.
My eyes roam over her mouth and I inch closer, desperate to give into this urge.
“I better not kiss you,” I mutter, telling myself as much as I am her.
“Why?” she whispers, blinking slowly.
Tell her what you are.
My heart beats frantically in my chest. “Because if I do, I don't think I'll be able to stop.”
She tastes her lips, knotting her hands into my shirt. “I don't think I'll want you to stop.”
Kissed by her stalker. This girl deserves better.
“Then we're in trouble, Annalise.” I step closer, pressing her back against the door, my world flipping on its axis. “Because I'm about to stop listening to the voice that's telling me not to.”
A small breath flutters past her lips, her mouth so close to mine I can taste the air that's run across her tongue. And I'm already a slave to her flavour.
I drown the voice in my head and my lips meet hers, hard.
I'm lost, consumed by her, dragged from darkness into light. Her impassioned response sets fire to the deepest regions of my soul, scorching through the endless abyss of my heart.
Her tongue strokes mine, and I succumb to the impossibly good feel of her mouth against me. I want to devour every part of this girl, to taste every last drop.
“Ethan,” she gasps and I press against her, laying my hands flat on the door, crushing her.
To be wanted by this woman is bliss. But for me it's more than want, it's need.
Look what you are, a monster leering over her.
I yank away, pressing my fingers to my eyes to try and stifle the voice.
“Are you alright?” she asks, her voice unsteady.
I shake my head, dropping my hand. “I'm sorry-” I try to find the words to explain but there are none. The truth isn't an option.
I hurry away, practically jogging down the street, my heart tortured and racing.
Fucking idiot.
ANNALISE
I'm left gaping after Ethan, touching my lips, finding them tingling.
I didn't know it was possible to feel a kiss in all the empty spaces of my body. Every part of me is awakened, on fire.
But why did he leave? What is he hiding?
Looking at him is like gazing at an endless lake, the truth of his depth concealed beneath a rippling surface.
Remembering to move, I head inside.
>
I don't feel rejected; I tasted the extent of his desire. It's curiosity I'm left with. I long to know the reasons behind his behaviour.
I sink onto my sofa, deep in thought, picking at the pale blue threads on the arm. My phone rings, alarming me and I take it out of my bag, finding my friend Libby calling.
“Hi,” I breathe. Woah. What happened to my voice?
“Lise? You alright? You sound weird.”
“Yeah- fuck, I think so. I just got kissed by this guy...”
“What guy?!” she practically screeches.
I hold the phone away from my ear for a second. “We met yesterday. I was being robbed-”
“Robbed? Shit, Lise!”
“Yeah, the guy – Ethan – he scared off my attacker.”
“Attacker? Did you get hurt?” The worry in her voice is evident but the thief really isn't my main focus.
“No. I'm fine.” My thoughts fill with Ethan, that kiss. I can still feel his mouth on mine. I've never felt such passion, such raw chemistry. My blood is pumping through my veins hot and fast, leaving me flustered.
“Tell me everything,” Libby demands.
I fill her in, leaving out the more intimate details. They're just for me. I've never been in this position before. And I want to keep it for myself, like I'm caging a little secret in my chest.
“Resplendent? Who uses words like that to describe someone they've just met? He sounds weird,” Libby says bluntly, irking me.
“He's not weird,” I snap, my heart pounding faster. “He's sweet.”
“Look Lise, he's obviously good looking or whatever, but are you sure this guy isn't deranged or something?”
I frown heavily, wishing I hadn't even told her about him. I say nothing, clenching my jaw.
Libby's daughter starts bawling in the background.
“I'm just concerned for you. Don't get pissy.”
I let out a huff. “He's the first guy I've felt the spark with.” I cringe at my honesty but I don't keep anything from Libby. And that's how I feel.
“I can tell, which is why you should be careful- oh for heaven's sake Lola stop chewing your brother's ear!” she shouts at her kid. I'm used to the outbursts, it's pretty much how all of our phone conversations go. “And I want you to be with a nice guy.” Her tone returns to normal.
“He is a nice guy,” I insist, winding a finger into my hair and tugging.
“I think you're being a little naive. How do you know he isn't dodgy?”
“I can just – tell.” Grr. She's infuriating. Why is she begrudging me of this moment? I've supported every single decision she's made since she met her husband four years ago. Why can't she be here for me now?
“Okay, I know you can look after yourself – LOLA! Put that vase down! - sorry Lise, I have to go – crisis here.”
“No problem. Speak soon.”
She hangs up, but not before I hear a loud crash on the end of the line. Oh dear. Libby has more important things to worry about than my love life. That's the thing about all my friends being in relationships, their priorities are with their families and other halves. And I understand that, but sometimes, I don't know where to turn.
I do what my father would tell me to do, and listen to my heart. If your instincts say go for it, then go for it.
I tap out a text, feeling like I'm putting myself on the line again. It's so not like me to hound a guy. But if I let this one walk out of my life, I fear I'll regret it forever.
CLARISSA
I help the women. Always.
Lilith is struggling with depression after her husband of twelve years cheated on her repeatedly.
She sobs into a tissue and I regard her with a sadness weighing in my chest. “Tell me what's on your mind, Lilith.”
“I just can't understand it, Clarissa. I did everything for him, I cooked, cleaned, I gave him...”
“What?” I encourage, giving her a soft smile.
“Blowjobs,” she whispers, cupping her hands around her mouth.
She has no idea how little a word like that effects me.
“Yes, I understand. Sometimes it's hard to comprehend why someone would hurt you. How does it make you feel?”
“Betrayed,” she chokes. “Like all these years were wasted – a lie.”
I nod slowly, her words working their way into my chest. I know that feeling all too well.
“How long has it been now, since he left?”
“Three months,” she sniffs, pulling herself together.
“And how do you feel about the fact that he left you?”
“I wish...I wish I'd left him, you know? I wish I could hurt him like he's hurt me.”
I nod slowly. “Yes, you're angry. And how would you punish him if you could?” I sit forward in my seat, my senses coming alive. I long to have this man in my basement. I'd bring him all the hurt this women deserves.
She looks slightly alarmed at my question, then her eyes darken, sinking into that dreamy, cold place everyone has inside them. The little part of your soul that craves pain and suffering, revenge.
“If I could go back in time...I'd catch him at it, with one of those girls, then I'd hurt him, hurt her.”
“How would you hurt them?” I purr, resting my notepad on my knee, leaning forward.
“I'd...I'd...” Her cheeks turn scarlet.
“There's no judgement in this room, Lilith. You can tell me anything.”
She lowers her voice to a breathy whisper, “I'd hold a gun to his head, make him strangle her. Then I'd shoot his- his-”
“Cock,” I finish for her simply and she nods.
I'm filled with a delicious satisfaction at the darkness I share with this woman. My sessions are like therapy for me too sometimes.
“And would that make you feel better?” I ask, resting back in my seat.
She nods vigorously, her eyes brighter already. I survey her. Her honey-coloured hair is lank, not recently washed. She's pretty, perhaps a little on the plump side but with some daily care, she could be beautiful.
“Are you looking after yourself?” I probe, scanning her over.
She runs a hand into that greasy blonde hair, looking guilty. “It's hard to think of myself...”
“Perhaps you should take some time to pamper yourself, what do you think?”
She nods, the idea sinking into her mind. “Yes, that's a good idea, I think.”
I check the time. She's run over a little. But my next client can wait.
Lilith stands, spotting the clock, too. “Sorry for taking up more of your time again.”
“It's not a problem. You'll think on what we discussed today?”
“I will.” She smiles and her features light up. It's the first time she's looked that way: hopeful. And I feel I've truly helped someone today.
She exits, side-stepping my next client who is hovering outside the door, anxious for me.
I take a breath, sipping from my water bottle as he enters.
“Hello Arthur,” I say stiffly.
He's a pathetic man. His eyes hollow and dark. His brother died in a car accident several months ago; he's been seeing me to talk about his grief.
“Hello-” he chokes, immediately starting to cry.
I square my shoulders toward him. “How are you today?”
“Not good, Miss Sinclair, not good at all.”
I suppress an eye roll, picking up my pen and writing a vague note about his continued depression.
“What's on your mind?”
“I went through some of his things yesterday. I found a couple of trophies. He was good at football, did I tell you?”
I shake my head, letting him go on, checking the clock over his shoulder.
“He loved the sport. Always played. His entire life in fact. His wife didn't like it much, but I always encouraged him to keep it up.”
I nod, starting to sketch on my pad, pretending to make notes. I think of Ethan and begin drawing his dark expression, his pale grey eyes.
“-that was the last time I saw him. After one of his games. He won...scored a goal.”
“Hm, and do you think about that day a lot?” I ask, feigning interest.
I continue drawing, fleshing out the head of Ethan's cock, sketching veins down the shaft. I bet he has a big cock. He's always in jeans so it's hard to tell. It doesn't really matter, a guy like that would have fucked a lot of women before his mind got screwed. He'd know his way around a pussy, he'd know how to make me come before he even had to put it in me.
“-the hardest thing is accepting he's not coming back. And with my mother's Alzheimer's...oh Miss Sinclair, it's just horrible. I have to explain on a daily basis that he's gone.”
I snap my head up at that. “And is that the right thing to do, do you think?” Poor woman. Why won't he let her live in bliss? She doesn't need to know her son's dead, his head busted in by a ten tonne truck on the M25.
What is it with men? Why can't they ever see what a woman needs? Even when it's right in front of their eyes?
ETHAN
I head straight to the therapy clinic, taking the tube along the central line and heading up to the street.
By the time I arrive, the tension in my body has grown unbearable.
I hurry upstairs to the waiting area where comfy sofas and chairs are dotted around a large room, everything designed to make clients feel at ease. But that's the last thing I feel. And I imagine it's the last thing any of the other patients that come here feel either. We're all fucked in the head, unable to cope with day to day life without depending on another person to justify our thoughts.
I move to the receptionist, her face is serene, her smile bright. She always looks like this, like someone slipped a sedative in her morning coffee.
“Hi Ethan, how are you?” her voice is airy, near-ethereal.
