“Just us two against the world,” she cuts me off.
“Exactly, sweet girl. Just us two against the world…”
She presses her lips on mine, then looks at me deviously.
“You mentioned a gag? I do believe my monster wants to come out and play, Welch. Are you ready to do bad things to me?” she asks coyly.
Memories flood my brain and I shoot from the bed to my box of debaucheries.
“Oh, sweet girl. I’m about to make you hurt real good.”
“What do you say?” I demand before hitting Gwen’s back with my bull whip.
I retrieved my four point under the bed restraint system and tied her to my bed on her belly. After that, I pulled a butterfly clit vibrator over her legs. She is twisting in enchanting misery. The buzzing from the vibrator is intense, along with the sound of her cries for more. She is rocking her hips into the bed, trying for a release. Her ass looks delicious as it moves back and forth while I admire the red, raised whip marks I instilled on her once snow white skin.
“Oh, that’s right. You can’t answer me, sweet girl,” I say softly, dropping the whip before rubbing the welts on her back. I gagged her after I restrained her. She was adamant upon that.
She pulls on the leather straps while trying to push her ass in the air, conflicted between wanting me to claim her or putting more pressure on her clit with the vibrator that is strapped on it. I dip my face near her ass, spreading her cheeks apart and preparing her for my cock. My tongue assaults her entrance and I can’t help but think back to our first real encounter together. It will forever be branded into my thoughts as I look to her fingers grasping onto the leather straps while her knuckles turn a lighter shade than her skin. Memories of her holding onto the sheets while I fucked her tight ass all those years ago become too much.
I need to relive that moment again while I have my monster at my mercy under me. She was made for me, craves what I crave, needs the same kind of pain that I do, and understands my fucked up brain without so many words. I want her more than anything else. This is the realest thing I have had my entire life.
She moans under the clemency of the gag, her sounds indicating that she needs me to take her.
“You need me, sweet girl…” I trail as my fingers entice her asshole, the vibrating tickling me.
Her wails beneath the gag become louder as she tries to push her ass into my fingers.
“Here?” I whisper before inserting two fingers inside of her.
She cries out, tensing around my fingers. I smile as she responds to me. I push them in and out, over and over again until I am sure she is close. I don’t want her to come until I am inside of her. Sweat beads on the top of her skin as she moves her head side to side. I release myself and climb on top of her as I hold my hard cock before her ass. I spit on my cock before pushing myself inside, while panting loudly.
“So fucking hot, sweet girl…”
I ease myself in slowly and the vibration from the clit stimulator shocks my dick, making me lose all control. All the gradualness I had is lost and I explode, shifting my hips into her deeper, needing to find more. I hold onto her side and fuck her hard, thunderbolts of ecstasy blinding the madness that is petitioning to be unconfined.
“Always us,” I whisper as I feel Gwendolyn come hard.
She screams under the gag and I let myself go, chasing my release behind her.
For the first time, I let the blackness envelop me, not worried what may happen because I have my own monster whose soul matches the darkness of mine. I finally have my sweet girl who embraces the same fucked up side that I have.
“Are you sure you don’t need to go into work today, Welch?” Gwendolyn asks me, preparing scrambled eggs over the stove in my tiny apartment in nothing more than one of my T-shirts and underwear.
“I’m sure,” I say, smiling.
One day away from work won’t hurt. I’ve always been punctual, and the truth is, I don’t want to deal with seeing Kenji or being around Noah’s ego.
“What about you? Can’t you call into work tonight?” I ask, hopeful that we can spend more time together.
“I need the money, Welch. And tonight is only a four hour shift. I’ll be back after. I promise,” she replies, winking before returning to scrambling the eggs.
Disappointment fills me, but I suppose we both need to face reality soon enough.
“What time do you go in tonight at the Grey Room?”
Small talk isn’t something we are used to. Shit, who am I kidding, we aren’t used to anything normal, but I want to know everything about her life. When she moved to Portland six months ago, she got a job at the Grey Room, a tiny eclectic coffee shop near her apartment in the Hawthorne District. She mentioned how she has been wanting to set up a non-profit organization for sexual abuse survivors, but we haven’t talked in depth about it.
In fact, we haven’t talked about back then or our stints in the state mental institutions at all. Strangely enough, I am okay with that. Rehashing the past is only good for some people. We are definitely not those kind of people. We want to keep the page turned. I see that in her eyes and I know that she can see it too. Talking about the pain and being away from one another will be too much. It is all irrelevant now, anyway. We have each other now.
“Five. Don’t you need to call your boss and tell him you won’t be coming in this afternoon?” she asks again.
“Yeah, I will send him a text. Don’t worry, sweet girl.”
I pull my phone out and send Noah a text, telling him I am not feeling well and that I won’t be in this afternoon.
“Done,” I say, tossing my phone to the side.
“Good. Let’s eat then plan our day! You have me all afternoon, Wonderful William,” she says coyly, feeding me a forkful of eggs.
“William, you have such a cute car!” Gwendolyn croons.
I never thought of my car as cute and I can’t help but laugh a little. I was grateful that I was able to save enough to put a down payment on something that ran half decent. Okay, it may be a little girly, but when you go from nothing to Portland, Oregon, you have to start somewhere. Gwendolyn doesn’t have a car yet and rides her bike everywhere. It makes me sad, but that part doesn’t matter anymore. She has me. I will be sure to take care of her. Besides, we do live in a city and an area of Portland where most everyone rides their bikes. I drive because the shop is on the other side of the city.
“It’s just a car, sweet girl. A cheap, used Toyota Solara.”
“Yes, but it’s red, my favorite color. And it is sporty too. I love it. It’s perfect,” she says, letting the cool fall weather come through the window.
Her hair billows in the wind flawlessly as we head east on Interstate 84.
“Red is my favorite color too. It reminds me of your hair.”
She grabs onto my leg, squeezing gently. I feel her smiling which makes me happy. Finally, life is falling into place. I decided to head to Columbia River Gorge to hike a little and surprise her. There’s one trail that is easy to hike and one of my favorites. The name fits her too.
I turn off onto Bridal Veil exit 28 and get onto the Columbia River Highway. We are almost there and I can hardly wait. The beginning of Angel’s Rest Trail is at the junction of Columbia River Highway and East Bridal Veil Road. I can’t help but think that the names all hold some sort of significant meaning to this day.
“Oh my gosh, Welch. This is amazing. Where are we?” Gwendolyn gasps.
“This is part of the Columbia River Gorge. I thought I would take you away from the city for a bit and we could hike for a few hours. There is a place I want to show you.”
She squeals in delight, clapping her hands together. How incredible that is, the simplest things make her happy. Maybe our life will be easy from here and on out. Perhaps Hell is behind us and Heaven is before us.
I can only hope.
We park the car and get out, surrounded by so much green it is almost too much. Thousands of acres of untouched f
orest exist. Serenity encircles us. I grab my backpack from the trunk and offer her my hand. She takes it and we begin our hike.
“Up about half of a mile is Coopey Falls,” I say, leading her along the trail.
She squeezes my hand and I can feel her tiny palm sweating a little. She’s excited, which makes me happy. She gives me a reason to live. I wanted gravity to let me go before I knew she would come back to me, but now that she is here I realize something. She is my gravity. She keeps me grounded. Sane.
“What’s Coopey Falls?” she asks.
“You’ll see,” I say with a smile.
“I don’t like surprises!” she pouts.
I still see a faint smile.
“Yes you do,” I laugh.
We continue our hike, still seeing evidence of the wildfire that took the forest back in the 90s. A little while later we arrive at the 100 plus foot tall horseshoe waterfall. Gwendolyn gulps aloud and I pull her close to me until her warm breath tickles my neck. These are the moments that I live for. Humble memories with her. Money, effects, and status means nothing because our love can’t be measured. It’s limitless and no one can take that away from us.
It’s just our love against the world.
“Welch, this is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen.”
I grab her cheek as tears develop in her deep, green eyes.
“You are the most beautiful thing that I have ever seen. Don’t cry. Be happy, sweet girl.”
“I’m crying because I never thought I would be happy. I still think I don’t deserve it.”
“You deserve this and so much more. This is only the beginning, Gwendolyn Beth. The beginning of our life together. Remember, nothing will tear us apart. Always us.”
I push my lips onto hers as the sound of crashing water rushes in the background. We kiss each other as perfection consumes us. But part of me can’t help but worry that the ominous sounds of the dangerous waters are an indication of what’s to come.
I thought the bad mantras that I used to chant were gone, but I must face the facts.
Tarnished little boys like me always stay the same.
I dropped Gwendolyn off at the Grey Room thirty minutes ago and I’m still parked outside, watching her through the window as she plays the role of star coffee maker. I know this may be slightly psycho, but look at my track record. Some things can’t be helped. I keep telling myself that I will only watch for five more minutes, but five turned into ten, and well, ten has turned into thirty. I don’t see myself leaving anytime soon. A small amount of pleasure fills me as I see her acting in a different role while occasionally adjusting her long red ponytail and faking a smile to all the asshole customers. Neither of us are a fan of people, but we are pros at pretending that the world is a decent place.
I study the individuals that work with her and I instantly become relieved to know that she works with other females and an older man in his sixties. I suppose that jealously is hidden deep within and I can’t understand why. Perhaps because she is a beautiful woman, who knows. I know she would never do anything to betray me, but I can’t help but continue and watch.
Suddenly, concern devours me and I have the itch to smoke a cigarette and drink a beer, neither of which I have. I fidget with my hands as I count the steps Gwen makes between the espresso machine and the register, back and forth, back and forth… seven steps each time.
“Fuck this. This is crazy,” I say out loud.
I need to get back home and wait until her shift is over. At nine p.m., I will go back to the Grey Room and pick her up. We will have a good evening together and all will be okay. My hand touches the ignition when I hear the familiar hum of a motorcycle. I stop in my tracks as I see Noah’s Fat Boy Harley pull in front of the Grey Room. He definitely doesn’t fit in this part of the Hawthorne District with his tough guy demeanor and anti-hippie standards. Confusion overtakes me and I can’t think straight. I want to pull at my hair and curse, telling myself that he is only coming here for the coffee, but something doesn’t seem quite right.
Gwendolyn came into the tattoo shop by chance for some ink, the same one that Noah owns. I flash back to the look on her face; a look of shock, and she had great concern with me not going into work today. The puzzle pieces fit in place faultlessly and I fear I may lose my shit as Noah puts his kickstand down, hopping off his bike while combing through his thick, black hair. His fingers sort through the scruff on his face and he stands tall while adjusting his leather jacket before heading towards the entrance of the coffee shop.
Goodbye lucidity. You were overrated anyway.
I watch Noah approach Gwendolyn at the counter. I look at her face and pray to the heavens above that she doesn’t respond to him. I know I won’t be able to tolerate it. This is the last straw, my last chance at normalcy. If betrayal happens, I still can’t say goodbye to her. I can’t breathe while I watch her face look down. Is she submitting to him? She folds her hands on top of the black countertop as Noah reaches over to touch her face. She cowers in response. Has he fucking hit her? I’m like a goddamn stick of dynamite as I see the horror play out before me. I have murder on my mind if any of the mentioned thoughts were ever a reality. I will make Noah understand what Hell is like. He doesn’t know the half of my life or what I am capable of, nor does he know the depth of my love for Gwendolyn. I am willing to die and kill for her.
I see him put his hands up in exasperation and Gwendolyn tucks her chin tighter to her chest. I’ve seen that look before when we were with Claude and Helen. I feel the bile rise slowly in my throat, burning me inch by inch as realization hits me like a wrecking ball. Parts of her will never change either. I need to save her like she has saved me. Betrayal isn’t in the question. She is submitting to Noah. I may not know the story now because she might not be ready to tell it. Her body is telling me the same story that it did years ago, a very unhappy one.
I open my car door and throw myself outside as I am greeted by the cool fall night. I pay no attention to the street, running across as cars honk and slam on their brakes. I hear someone cussing at me in the background, but I could give two shits. Things are about to get hairy. My eyes never leave Gwen. She must sense my presence as she finds the courage to look up. Her eyes grow wide and I hear Noah’s voice yelling loudly the closer I get to the entrance of the shop. He raises his hand and the fellow workers in the coffee shop gather around to watch the freak show happening. Why the fuck isn’t anyone helping her?
Gwen remains in the same spot with her wide eyes on me. My heart breaks as I see the same look from all that time ago, one of straight fear. The kind of terror that feels like a sharp vane is tearing your insides apart bit by painful bit as you bleed out slowly. I hate myself as everything seems to move in slow motion, I can’t get to her fast enough. Noah’s fist is moving gradually as my feet feel like blocks of concrete. Time slows and my heart shatters into a billion pieces as Gwendolyn’s mouth opens. My eyes zero in on hers as I see tears develop. Noah’s closed, hard fist meets Gwendolyn’s cheek and she falls to the ground as everyone else stands back and watches.
The story of our goddamn life. Some things never change. I’m zapped back into the present, my feet moving faster as I warp into the crazed monster I was destined to be. I feel vehemence burning wildly deep within and I have to convince myself that I will not do anything that will cause me to do life without parole in the middle of a packed coffeehouse. I don’t want to ruin our second chance, but make no mistake Noah will fucking pay.
I enter the shop, the bell dings and Gwendolyn spouts up.
“What the fuck are you doing here, shithead?” Noah sneers.
“To fuck you up for touching my girl.”
He laughs, furrowing his brows at me while sticking his hands in his leather jacket as he rocks back and forth on his feet. His confidence and ego are large and annoying. Men like him don’t deserve a place in the world.
“Is that so?” he sneers, biting his bottom lip while standing a few inches
taller than me.
“Apparently you don’t know our history, fucker. And I think it’s in your best interest not to play a role in our future. So get the fuck out of here and I better never see you near her again. Understand?” I state in all confidence.
He doesn’t understand that I am perfectly willing, able, and capable of taking a life, especially if it means protecting Gwendolyn.
“She was nothing but a crazy fuck. Didn’t want that bastard kid, anyway,” he laughs, spitting on the floor, walking past me.
I hear Gwendolyn fall back to the floor crying, and I didn’t think it was possible for me to become any more broken that I already was. His words repeat over and over in my dysfunctional mind.
Didn’t want that bastard kid, anyway.
“Gwendolyn?” I question.
Her heaves of despair continue while she lays curled up in a protective ball on the ground. I rush to her side, clutching her arm to help her up.
“Why are you helping me?” she yells.
“Because I love you. Us. Always us. Let’s get you home.”
It’s true. My love for her will never waver, but part of me has died as I think back to what Noah said. He fucked her; that is bad enough, but she is pregnant? I know now isn’t the time to ask a dozen questions before an audience. I need to get her home.
She unclasps her hands from her legs and looks up at me, her face mottled from her tears and swollen from Noah’s abuse. Rage consumes me, but again, Gwendolyn is my gravity keeping me grounded. Despite the circumstances, I will not leave her. I won’t fuck up the only second chance we have. We’ve been through worse, surely we can figure this out, right?
“You shouldn’t love me, Welch.”
I grin to her because that’s exactly how I feel.
“Funny, I don’t think you should love me either.”
She puts her hand in mine as we exchange a look, one that is painful. It’s time to talk about the elephant in the room.
The Emancipation of Love Page 9
