Katarina adjusted herself in my arms to whisper in my ear as we loaded into the elevator, “And I’ve got your front.” She kissed my ear as she nestled into my neck, and I clasped onto her humor like a squirrel hoarding nuts for the winter and laughed. It was the kind of laugh when you close your eyes and your mind does an instant replay, the thought makes you laugh harder.
Fucking hilarious…and all mine.
Chapter Eighteen
You Can’t Un-see
Katarina
I fell right into a deep sleep. As I dreamed, I saw myself lying on the bed; I was stiff, frozen in time. I struggled to move. It felt like I was wrapped tightly in a cocoon. Then my visions switched from seeing me on the bed, to a vision of my grandparents after a dance performance. We were at an ice cream parlor, and Grandfather looked upset; his arms were crossed and he was trying hard to stay out of the conversation Grandmother kept sucking him into.
I didn’t care either way. I looked to be about eight and thoroughly enjoying my ice cream. I wore my pink tutu, and my hair was pulled tight into a bun. Grandmother got up to talk to another lady, someone from her church. Grandfather and I had a staring contest; he loved no-talking games. I noticed he never touched his ice cream. I made a loud noise, saying, “Mmm, yummy, it is sooo good.” He just looked at me with his grumpy-old-man face. I scooped a spoonful of my ice cream and moved it toward his lips. “You should try it.” He reluctantly opened his mouth and I smiled.
“Yep,” he smiled back, “you got the better ice cream.” I laughed at that, and Grandfather’s mood changed. We still sat there in silence, and occasionally, I would make him eat my ice cream, but his mood was brighter. I even heard laughter after a drop of ice cream landed on his tie.
The next vision was similar, but my outfit changed; I wore purple and had a crown on. My grandmother talked. She was so sweet as she asked me questions about school. Grandfather and I just stared. I made sure Grandmother ordered the right ice cream for him and grabbed a few extra napkins just in case. Grandfather was happier; I could tell, even though he never said anything the whole visit. He had smiling eyes. I gave him a hug before I left him this time, and he let me.
My visions were going faster and running together as I tried to slow them. I was at my grandmother’s funeral. Everyone was there, and Grandfather stood in the back. He was pacing, his hair disheveled, his dress shirt untucked, and nobody was around him. I watched the little version of me get up from the front pews and walk down the center aisle to stand next to my moving grandfather in the back of the large church.
“I want to live with you. Can I, please?” He stopped his pacing long enough to stare at me with bitter anger in his eyes. He didn’t scare me; he never did. “They don’t understand me, Grandfather.” I pointed to my family all watching the people in the front talk and cry. He roughly grabbed me with both hands on my upper arms. I knew it was only to shock me, but I think it only shocked him. He left after that; I followed him to the parking lot and he sped away in his fancy car.
I watched more dance performances, red costume and black, but nobody came to watch those shows. My bodyguard drove me home from the last show and I was mad. I watched as a vision of me threw a large tantrum while getting out of the car. Now, I looked to be ten, and I was very unhappy. When I was brought into the mansion, I ran to my room. It would have been dramatic, but no one was home or they were already in bed. I snuck out that night, climbed out my window to the roof and climbed down a tree; it was easy. I rode my bike to the bus station and made my way to my grandfather’s. I walked in his house; no one told me to stop, so I ran up his stairs and threw open his bedroom doors, making the most theatrical entrance as he sat at the end of the bed.
He wasn’t even startled by my grand entrance; his head was resting in his hands, his shoulders sagging. I watched a pretty blonde walk out of his bathroom and kiss him on the cheek before leaving. He didn’t look up at her, just sat there. I sat by him and grabbed his hand from his face. I laced my fingers through his and stared at the wall. I didn’t feel as angry looking at him now. His sadness was making it hard to breathe.
“I am going to quit dancing,” my little voice quivered, and tears sprung to my eyes. “Nobody but Grandmother likes to watch me dance, so I am going to quit.” He remained silent; even though my tiny body shook from crying and tears ran down my cheeks, he just sat there. Craving more comfort, I crawled into his lap and wrapped my arms around him. His body shook with mine and I felt his tears on my neck. He laid down on the bed and we cried together. “I’m sorry,” I offered, but my voice went unheard through the sobbing.
In my next vision, he was in the front row again. I was Snow White dancing through the forest. He smiled and I felt my nerves fade away. We went to get ice cream and I did most of the talking. I asked him again if I could stay with him, but he refused. He was still sad, but his eyes held smiles for me. He told me about the summer and asked me to join him in a project. I was so excited. The dream began to get fuzzy, and I danced again in a blue fairy costume. He wasn’t there; my heart ached. I kept dancing like I did before, pretending it didn’t matter. Then, I saw him appear in the front row. He smiled at me. We skipped ice cream that visit; he couldn’t stay, but he let me hug him before he left.
I snuck out that night, and a boy had ice cream with me. He had shaggy, long, brown hair and angry eyes, but I saw something else in them. I looked deep inside and saw his huge heart. He didn’t eat what I ordered, just watched me, and I knew one thing from his eyes—he was lost and lonely, like me. It was extremely uncomfortable the way he studied me, like he knew about the closet. I didn’t know how he could. I left the closet memories in the closet. I left when I finished my cookie and he followed me outside. His powerful eyes read my every move, and then he saw…he saw what I hid, what I had always hidden…my marks. I saw darkness after that, and trying to relax in the cold, black darkness was difficult.
I struggled to open my eyes, my heart raced, and my breathing accelerated, because I was desperate for light. I panicked, attempting to move my body and scream out, but I had no voice and my body was completely paralyzed. I clawed for the light, but my eyes were glued shut. When I finally saw my vision again, I was lying on the bed and Jason was over me. My eyelids lightened and began to flutter open.
****
Jason
I woke to her body pulling away. She was still asleep and I watched her features change. She was perfect like this, my innocent princess. Her eyes rapidly moved under her eyelids, and I couldn’t tell if it was a dream or a nightmare. I released my arms from her and she relaxed on her pillow; a small smile led to a big grin, and I would have given anything to know what she was dreaming about. A smile like that invited curiosity. I leaned over and whispered in her ear, “I love you, Katarina, and you make me happy.” Her eyes fluttered open and an even bigger smile graced her sleepy face, reaching her eyes.
“Touch me,” I whispered. I needed her to touch me more. She didn’t think like that and I was being patient, but a part of me craved it too much, longed for her gentle, soft fingers to own me. She didn’t hesitate a second, and I felt her hands on me, eager to feel.
“You were in my dream.” Her soft voice made my heart squeeze tightly. “We were eating a sundae after my dance show, and you were a handsome young man.” She licked her lips and ran her fingers through my hair. “Your hair was dirty, sweaty, and you wore a black sweatshirt that had letters on the front. Your green eyes held anger.” She leaned in and kissed my eyelids one at a time. “You walked me outside to my bike, and…” she trailed off, kissing my lips tenderly.
I waited for something; her conversation was too slow and I was in a hurry to find out what she knew, what she remembered. Being patient, although I was working on it, wasn’t my strong suit. “And?” I nudged, helping her along. I didn’t want the sweet, sappy kissing right now. I knew I was being wishy-washy with my words, telling her touch me then tell me, and I wanted to yell at myself to make up my fri
ckin’ mind. It was crazy how long I had waited for her to remember me, remember me on that day.
She flashed me a calming smile and ran her fingers over the arch of my chin. “You’re still handsome.” I closed my eyes and told myself to let her finish; the anxiety I had over this moment was foolish. “You saw the marks.” My hands were already lightly caressing the skin at her side and lower back. I am not sure when I started, but my hands were attempting to erase the marks from my brain. Her eyes were filled with pity—pity for me; it was confusing. “Once you see it, you can’t un-see it. I am sorry.”
She’s fucking kidding, right? I repeated her words in my head, ‘You can’t un-see it. I am sorry.’ She’s offering me an apology? I blinked, not sure if I heard her correctly, and then I blinked again, feeling like I could possibly be dreaming. She rolled on top of me, straddling my legs, rubbing her pussy against my growing hard-on.
“How about we do an exchange? I know it’ll be hard,” she quipped, her lips curving, giving me her naughty smile. “If you promise not to see the marks on my body, I promise not to see the knockout pretty woman between your legs, because if we’re being honest, every time I see you sitting on the couch, I see her going down on you, and I can’t un-see it. I’ll try, if you try.”
Ah shit, the girl just kicked me in the nuts; her words stole my breath and my thoughts at the same time. I sat and moved us to the head of the bed so I could lean against the headboard and stare at her in the eyes. I had more questions; she couldn’t start this and not finish. When I reached the headboard, she started to lay on her seduction. She kissed my neck and gyrated on my happy-to-meet-you part. She was hungry and did a seductive moan that set me on fire. “I like your penis,” she whispered when she had thoroughly kissed my ear, and said penis gave my stomach a high-five on its own.
I reached down in-between us and slid my hand through her wetness to coat my rod, and then I lift her up and set her on it. A hiss escaped her lips, and I knew I had her full attention. I moved my hand to her face as she moved on me. It was uncoordinated and clumsy, which was a side of her I only saw in bed, and everything about it was sexy as hell. The fact she was finding what she liked, what felt good without any assistance from me was hot. I reminded myself I had questions. “I want to ask you things about that.”
She stopped kissing my shoulder, but continued to grind, finding a rhythm I knew would take her on the path to her orgasm. “You want to talk about me liking your penis?” She took my lips after she said it, and I moaned and thrust my hips up involuntarily.
I broke the kiss, attempting to catch my breath. “No, babe, and just so we’re clear, I like your vagina.”
She giggled in my ear and I had to keep myself from coming, because her laughter was that intoxicating. The conversation couldn’t wait; Katarina was either forthcoming with information, or she diverted, and right now, I held the cards. “Why did you have the marks on your body? Who gave them to you?”
Her body was motionless and her breathing was heavy in my ears. I could feel the negotiation going on inside her head. The tension around her increased with my question, and the soft whispering against the skin of my cheek made me feel it. “The only reason I am going to tell you this is because I like your penis and don’t want it to stop.” I grinned into her hair and squeezed her tightly. She began to grind before she spoke. “My father, he gave me the marks. He likes to drink.” She kissed my neck and inhaled me, and I pulled her hair away from her face so I could peer into her eyes. I was growing soft, and I knew in a moment she was going to be extremely frustrated.
“What else?” My arms tightened even more on their own accord, because for once in my life, I was not ready to impale my beautiful girl, and I was truly scared she’d run. I knew now she used sex like I did—to block her thoughts, to forget her horrible past, and to stop the questioning voices.
Her body stopped, she tore her eyes from mine, and she rested her head on my shoulder. I felt the heat of her breath on my neck. “I was his get-out-of-jail-free card.” She paused and I wait, because I was so certain she was about to let me in on everything. “He drank…a lot, and then would be called into work. I think he killed people while he was intoxicated. He killed people on the operating table, and someone found out. That someone wanted me.” She paused again and rubbed her face in the skin of my shoulder before resting in the same position as before.
“I think that someone actually had a thing for my mother. The way he looked at her was disturbing. I think a deal was made—me for a clean slate, only he wanted me for his fucked up son, and I use ‘fucked up’ meaning the worst way possible. Tommy was never bad to me, but I watched him torture and dissect animals.” She released a huge sigh. “I have a superpower. Did you know that?”
Katarina had many superpowers, if you asked me, but I inquired about the one she was talking about.
“I can see good in people. I’ve tried to stop it, but I can’t. I just feel bad and…” She trailed off and gave another deep sigh. “My father was protecting me. He was making me tough. He was breaking me before anyone else could. I don’t approve of how he did it, but I understand.”
That was it; I lifted her from my body and laid her on the bed. I was angry, furious, and I didn’t want her to see that, because she was sharing so much and I was concerned she would stop when I still had more questions. “You want a water?” I ran my fingers through my hair and couldn’t bring myself to look at her. She didn’t answer, so I removed myself from the room in search of some water bottles. She had made excuses for the man who beat her her whole life. Katarina held no resentment, no anger toward him, and the thought infuriated me.
I stalked back into the room and she was dressed in her nightgown, tiptoeing around the bed. If I wasn’t standing in her way, my princess would’ve been running again. She paced slightly, reminding me of a cat waiting for the perfect time to run beneath my feet. I leaned in the doorway until she finally had a seat on the bed directly in front of me.
“You would like them,” she told me, and I ran a hand through my hair, leaving my hand on the nape of my neck, pinching the back of it and causing pain to forget the torture sitting in front of me. “My parents…everyone likes them. He’s charming, smart, and loves to share how wonderful he is. I have been told he’s an exceptional teacher. My mother is the ideal combination of beauty and brains. She’s an accomplished surgeon, a supportive wife, and quite brilliant. My brothers don’t feel the same way I do about them, and that’s okay.”
She started to play with her hair, pulling it back into a sloppy bun on her head, and I saw the bite mark I gave her earlier. My furious anger turned to self-hate. “I am just saying—when you meet them, you will question everything I just told you. You will think it is some sort of a mistake, because my parents are great actors.” I glared at the spot on her neck and fought the urge to kiss it better. “Other people saw the bruises,” she said, and my eyes shifted back to hers, but she was vacant. “My ballet teachers did, but after they talked with my parents, they didn’t question the marks anymore.” She paused again and I waited. I wanted to know who else knew, who else let this go on.
“I even saw a psychiatrist, and I drew lots of pictures. She asked me for the truth and I told her, and she gave me her advice.” An evil smile and a twitch in her left eye happened before she continued, “Leave the things that happen in the closet…in the closet. It’s actually great advice and I took it.” Emotion hit me hard like a fist to the face as she sat there. This perfect woman described the horrid details of her life without grief or hate; her face was stoic and her voice matter-of-fact, and I lost every sense of strength I had held for years. I was crumbling inside and couldn’t hide from it anymore. I gazed at Katarina in amazement; she was so much stronger than I could ever be.
Her eyes danced over my face and worry touched every feature of hers. She quickly stood and rushed over to me until she was about a foot away, and then carefully approached like the tables had turned and I was the fri
ghtened animal. My body was heavy and swallowed with grief. It felt like my body ached and my heart clamped, creating an excruciatingly painful afterglow. “Don’t cry for me. I’m happy now,” she said. What the heck is she talking about? My vision was blurry and moisture fell on my face, running over my cheeks, and I couldn’t make it stop. Her hands trembled as they reached for my face to wipe away my tears, and I watched like it was someone else, because I didn’t frickin’ cry, not for other people. “Please, Jason, don’t cry. You have to stop crying for me.”
I picked her up after that, she wrapped her legs around my hips, and I laid back down on the bed, burying my nose in her hair as I cried. I let myself feel everything I was feeling—no more using anger and intimidation to hide my vulnerability. I fucking cried in front of my girl, because I wanted her to know how bad the pain felt, how bad it hurt me, even though I wasn’t there to protect her. I lost myself to all the tears and she stroked my hair, rubbing my back to give me comfort. When all my tears were shed, I spoke firmly so she could hear me and not misunderstand, “I hate them. I know you don’t handle that emotion, but fuck, Katarina, I hate them above everything else. If I could, I’d kill both of them.”
She hugged me and kissed the top of my head. “I don’t want them dead. I think dying is the easiest way out for them. I want you to love me. I want you to make the rest of my life a wonderful dream. I want you to be my fairytale, a fairytale where no one dies and there is no more hate or pain.” She stroked my hair when she spoke, and it eased all the fury out of me. She wanted me to be wonderful? Well fucking game on. “I think it’s time you bought me a book, Mr. Riggs.”
I slid down her body and rested my head on her soft belly. I chuckled into her stomach when her words processed, and I realized that was what she did to me; she took the rage and made pie with it. I was laughing, because she wanted me to buy her a silly fairytale book. My arms loosened around her as I made my way down to her sweet spot to give my very funny princess a nice reward for her honesty.
Forever Distraction Page 24
