Shocked, I shake my head as he grabs my chin and forces me to look at him.
“I’ve got a confession to make. When I fuck them … I think of how I’m going to do the same things to you.”
His words arouse me to my core. I’m swept away by his insane confession. It only makes me want him even more.
With a devious smile on his face, he slides his hand out of my shirt and down my belly, undoing the button of my jeans. He slips his hand into my panties. I hold my breath as his fingers dive in and cup my pussy. “Hmm … so wet already? My, my, you are a dirty slut.”
“Yes …” I whimper, closing my eyes.
“Hmm? What’s that? You sure you want more? There’s no going back, little bird.”
“More …” I open my eyes again. “Wait, what? What did you call me?”
He smirks and retracts his hand from my pants, leaving me breathless. “Too late, little bird. You’re mine.”
Swooping me up in his arms, he puts me over his shoulder. I yelp as he carries me all the way to my bedroom and opens the door.
“You teased me long enough,” he says. “Time for you to pay for all that flaunting.”
***
Saturday, December 6th, 2008. 11:43 p.m.
Fuck. I learned what he really meant by hard sex that day. He pushes my limits like no other. Jerking on my nipples while I’m tied to the bed. He used his belt and his tie for that. Such a turn-on, the way he’s been rousing my body with slaps and tickling. His fingers are delicate and rough at the same time, a delicious combination.
He’s been roughly fucking me and making me beg for mercy the last couple of minutes. I keep wanting to come, but he won’t allow it. Each time, he pulls out and smacks my tits with his bare hand. I’m red all over. It’s so intense, but I’m loving it. I’ve been yearning for this day to come.
He twists me around, my ass facing up, and then steps onto the bed and spreads my cheeks. Pushing his cock in, he starts fucking me from behind. I moan when he yanks my hair and makes me face the mirror in front of me. He placed it there. He told me he wanted me to look at the little slut I’ve become. Fuck, I love his dirty talk. I’m delirious with need. His fucking takes me to planes beyond my imagination. This one time will never be enough for me.
But then the door bursts open and my heart plunges to my feet.
He scrambles off me and pulls up his pants in a desperate attempt to hide his pre-cum-dripping cock. Then he quickly unties my hands. Unfortunately, it’s not in time. In shock I scream as I turn my head and see my father walking into the room.
“What the fuck …” my father murmurs, his jaw dropping. Surprise makes place for fury. Oh, shit. I fumble to grab a blanket and cover myself with it.
“You …” my father says when he directs his gaze toward him. “I should’ve known.”
“How the fuck did you know we were in here?” I yell.
My father frowns. “Jay, please, I know you’ve been taking boys back to your room. You refuse to behave like a proper lady, despite my warnings. I told you what would happen. I installed a camera.” He points at my bookcase across the bed. “I’ve been watching you this entire time. Disgusting. Filthy whore. You are not my daughter.”
My father snaps his fingers and in come two men, probably belonging to the same family. They grab him by the arms.
“No!” he yells. “Take your fucking hands off me!”
“You defiled my daughter!” my father yells. “Look what you’ve done to her!”
“She wanted this! She begged me for it.”
The men drag him away from the bed. He struggles, but it’s no use. They punch him in the stomach, making him heave. Two against one … it’s not fair.
“Stop, please,” I beg, crying. “He’s done nothing wrong.”
Wrapping the blanket around my body, I get up from the bed and grab my father’s jacket. “Don’t take this away from me, please. I need him.”
And then my father does the unthinkable. He shoves me away from him. His push is so hard, I stumble over the blanket and slip. My head hits the bedpost. Searing pain shoots through my body, and then everything fades to black.
“The phoenix hope, can wing her way through the desert skies, and still defying fortune's spite; revive from ashes and rise.” - Miguel de Cervantes Saavedra
Chapter 23
Jay
Saturday, September 14th, 2013. 10:40 a.m.
All I remember is infinite passion between the two of us. Adoration and excitement that’s survived through time and suffering. It started sooner than what I can remember, but that night … that sinful night is one of the few bits of my past I saw. I remember. I remember he once craved me more than anything, and I remember that I desired him just as much. He was right all along. We both denied each other love. I needed his fucking to make up for the love my father didn’t give me. He needed mine to make up for the love his family didn’t offer. We’re both victims of a cruel world.
“I remember …” I whisper.
“What?” he says.
“I do …” My eyes grow watery. “Us … the night in my room.”
His pupils dilate. “How much?”
“All of it.”
X grabs my arms and tugs me closer. I don’t resist. I fall into his arms and let him hug me for the first time in what feels like a lifetime. His arms are warm and a welcome relief as he holds me against his chest. It feels like I always belonged here.
“My father … he …”
“I know. I saw all of it, but I couldn’t do anything. Trust me, I would’ve cut them all to pieces.”
“He wanted me gone, didn’t he?” I sniff. “He hated me. I endangered his stupid campaigns. All he cared about was his image in the media.”
His chest rises and falls as he takes a deep breath. “Yes. You did some things he did not agree with. I guess seeing us was the final straw for him. After you blacked out, he had you taken away. A few states away you were dropped at a hospital with nothing on you. I followed you all the way there. I came to check up on you once, but you couldn’t remember what happened. You couldn’t remember me.” He’s silent for a few seconds.
“I remember bits and pieces now … but wait a minute, you followed me? I thought they took you away?”
He sighs. “I never said when.”
Oh … “You mean after what they did to you.”
He growls, and it fades into a sigh. “Yes.”
“Oh my God.” I slap my hand in front of my mouth. “They did that to you because of me?”
I look up and gaze into his eye, which is filled with regret. I lift my hand and place it on his face again, truly feeling him for the first time. Tears run down my cheeks as I look at X. His scars overflow with rain underneath my hand. I don’t remember them being there when we had sex the first time. They burned him because he took their chance at my father’s money.
Oh God … are they the ones after my head? They must be. Of course my father stopped working with them after they all found out about our affair. They must’ve been pissed off. And if I die … then maybe all their problems will go away and they can work for my father again.
Oh, fuck no. No wonder X is so intent on humiliating them and pushing their buttons until they beg for death. No wonder he went through all this trouble finding out who did it. He probably knew but didn’t want to tell me.
And it’s all because of the fact that we fucked. My father taped it. Why didn’t I see that camera? He could’ve been watching me for months. Of course, that’s just like him.
I shudder. “That camera. I should have known. That’s why … you blame me. It’s my fault.” I push myself from his arms and let the rain pour down on me once again. I feel miserable. Not only because of what he put me through, or what I have forgotten because of that injury to my head, but also because I am the reason he was scarred for life.
Tears mix with rain as I stand here, feeling more dead than alive.
“Yes. You should have known,” h
e says.
Each word he utters is another dagger to the heart.
“They murdered me.”
It breaks me.
“I lay in the cold snow, dying over and over again, until I got up and swore that I would make everyone pay.”
“And have you?” I say, wincing. “Have you made everyone suffer as much as you did?”
His lips twitch, but he doesn’t respond.
“Have you had your fill of revenge?”
“Not yet.”
It shatters me. He is still not done. Whatever he’s doing, it has to end. At some point, neither of us will have a heart left to bleed from.
His lips part. “I hate you.”
His words cut me like a knife. I don’t know why I dislike hearing them so much. Have I really grown to actually want anything but hatred from him?
He steps toward me. Enraged, I raise my fist and try to punch him in the face. Before it lands, he grabs ahold of my hand, pushes it back into the trunk of the tree, and slams his lips against mine.
I’m stunned. He’s kissing me in full force, pouring every bit of regret, remorse, pain, agony, and … love into this. No, it can’t be. I can’t even pull away to think about this. My mind won’t let me. This kiss, this all-encompassing kiss, tells me more than any words he could say. His hatred is strong, but not as strong as his wantonness. His lips smash mine with greed, not even taking the time to breathe. He wants me so much he can’t even take a moment to catch air. This is what we are. Two broken souls coming together as one. I feel powerful and weak at the same time. I know what happened to me now, but I also know X never left me. Not physically, not mentally. We were always connected.
I feel his desire to be with me, despite what happened. Despite all the shit I put him through. Despite all the shit he put me through. I can’t say no anymore. I don’t want to. What I want is love, and even after everything we’ve been through, he is still offering it to me.
In his arms I was taken. In his arms I am reborn. Everything I was fades away. He breaks me down and builds me up again, piece by piece, just the way he wants me to be. He saves me from the people who want to kill me. He keeps me alive.
These words fill my mind as if they own me. They have been floating there for a while now, slowly creeping in, slowly taking over. Slowly, but surely, they become truth. Until there is nothing left except the unbreakable bond I share with him.
When he takes his lips off mine, they still linger as I gasp in air, catching my breath. I look at him, the scars that remain, the boy I remember him to be. They’re one and the same. What was once perfect is now ruined. I can’t live with that. I have to fix this. Everything.
I’ve been blinded by amnesia, but now I know. I won’t stop reliving the pain until I remember everything. I owe it to X and to myself.
His lips part. A droplet of rain rolls into his mouth. And then he say three words that split my soul apart.
“I love you.”
“Love, in all its shapes and sizes, is timeless. Nobody is ever ready when it comes.” – Clarissa Wild
Chapter 24
X
Saturday, September 14th, 2013. 1:00 a.m.
Truth. Such a strange word. There’s no such thing. Everyone has a different notion of what’s right and wrong, so truth is a blurred emotional opinion. On her part, she thinks she knows the truth now. From my side it’s completely different. She remembers only a few parts, only our flirting and fucking, but she still doesn’t even remember my name. She knows nothing about the horrible things my family used to do to people her father deemed a threat. She doesn’t know the full extent of my obsession with her. That the first thing I did when I came out of the hospital was find her. I followed her day and night, planning my revenge.
She has no clue about that. She has no idea about the horrible things I’ve done. Like killing her mother.
I walk down the aisle and grab a few bottles of liquor. As I near the end of the store, I notice a clerk spying on me from behind the counter. Narrowing my eyes, I contemplate whether I’m going to behave or blow his brains out.
Taking a deep breath, I choose the highroad and place the whiskey and wine on the counter. He gazes at me with a perplexed look on his face, his fingers shaking as he takes the bottles and bleeps them. I fish a few dollar bills from my pocket and slam them on the counter. “Keep the change.”
I jerk the bottles from his hands and saunter out of the store. The zoned-out clerk follows me out with his eyes. Is it that fucking strange to pay for something once in a while? I could’ve killed him. He should be happy he got another day to live. Whatever. He can eye me all he wants, I don’t care. I would shoot any other guy who did that, but I’m in a good mood.
I get back to the car and step inside. Jay is still here. The doors weren’t even locked. It doesn’t matter anymore; she won’t run. There’s no going back to where she came from. Now she knows why.
“Here,” I say, handing her a bottle of wine. I take out my keys and unscrew the cap. Placing the tip to her mouth, she drinks eagerly, her thirst insatiable. Damn, that woman can drink. With a smug face I open the bottle of whiskey and hold it up.
“Cheers.”
“To this fucked-up world.”
We drink to the pain until we’re smashed and drunk from laughter. I feel myself caring less and less about what happens to us. This night is all about forgetting, and I’m quickly forgetting everything I promised myself to do to her as well as the one behind this all. It all just seems so futile. Now that I have her … now that she remembers the extent of our history … why go through all the trouble of hurting the one who took everything from me? I’ve already got what I want.
Turning my head, I place the bottle down between us and look at her. She’s beautiful. I love and I hate her so much. I don’t know why, but for some reason I can’t let go of either. This is so fucking unlike me. I don’t fucking get attached to anyone. She is an exception. A girl who kept escaping me, kept taunting me to take her, even though the consequences were severe. So severe I came to hate her for it. Yes, I blame her for everything. Maybe it’s unfair. Too fucking bad. Life isn’t fair. The moment they took my sanity was the day hatred was burned into my very being. I don’t even think I’d be able to survive without it.
She throws the empty bottle behind her. I guess replacing one addiction with another isn’t so bad. She gets to enjoy the numbness and not feel the craving for drugs. I get to forget about my need to punish. However, I just can’t seem to let go of the thought of ruining her.
Fuck, this is really fucked up. I used to care about her, but somewhere along the line caring turned into contempt. She should have known that camera was there, and that her father was watching her every move. She tricked me into fucking her. She tempted me like the seductive little bird she is. She’s my enemy, and yet I still can’t help but want her.
Sighing, I lift my hand and tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. It’s no longer a case of just wanting to have her body and fuck her any way I want. It’s more than that. I need to own her. I will have her until I die.
I still want to punish her. I will never lose that lust for blood. I will always want to see the fear and the pain. I was born in it. I was raised with it. It’s all I know. All I’ve become. A monster in love with pain and death. How pathetic.
“What are you thinking about?” she asks in a haze.
I snort. “I should be asking you that since you just remembered pretty much everything.”
“I know …” She blinks a couple of times and frowns. “I’m not sure how I feel. I can hardly believe it’s all true, but it’s in my mind, so it must be.”
“Is it hard to believe you once wanted me?”
She cocks her head. “No, but—”
“More than I wanted you?”
She gasps. “Pig.”
I smirk. “That’s sir pig to you.”
She snorts so hard she has to cough.
I laugh. “You know, the noises yo
u made when I fucked that pussy of yours for the first time were quite the turn-on.”
“Fuck you … that’s not fair.”
“It is now that you remember.”
“I only remember flashes, not my complete history.” She swallows. “There’s a lot I don’t remember at all. Like my mother, for example.”
I slam my mouth shut. For a few seconds I contemplate forgetting she mentioned her mother. However, something in the back of my mind tells me she has to know. If I’m going to make her stay, she has to believe I’m speaking the truth. I have to be honest with her. It’s the right thing to do, even if it’s just once.
My breathing slows down. “Your mother is dead.”
Her jaw drops, her eyes flashing to me like she just saw a dead man walking.
“She fell down the stairs.”
“What? How do you know?” she asks.
“Because you were right. We do have a history together, you and I. We used to play together in your father’s house. When they were busy talking we used to run after each other a lot, playing catch. One time your mother came out the door right when I took a turn. I didn’t see her and then…” I sigh. “I killed her.”
Her face turns from pure shock to revulsion. I expect her to try and hit me. Instead, she picks up the bottle of whiskey and drinks it until she almost chokes.
“Hey, take it slow,” I say, plucking the bottle from her hand before she drowns in it.
“Like you fucking care,” she spits.
I laugh. She sounds just like herself again. I was worried she might’ve lost her spark after everything I did to her, but I see it now. It’s still there. Everything she was, everything she is. She’s right here, right in front of me, ready for the taking. What I wanted so long ago is now my reality. I have her completely to myself, and she isn’t running from me anymore. This is too fucking perfect. Especially considering the fact that I just told her I fucking killed her mother.
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