“I hate you.”
My heart skipped again, and I carefully pushed a few loose strands away from her eyes, searching her face, allowing myself, just for a moment, to feel this. “I hate you too,” I mumbled after a few seconds. “I hate you too, baby.”
I sat there, stroking her soft face for another few moments before standing up and heading to the bathroom to clean myself up, wondering how many times I had thought about how much I hated her when in reality, the hate was masking something I was too afraid to feel.
9
Olivia
July 2nd, 2022
Ifelt so ridiculous.
I had been laying in his bed, still as a stone, staring at the contraption he had had me in yesterday, my body screaming in pain, tears dripping down my face, for what?
Why was I crying?
I had the best sex of my life yesterday. I thought I had been changed before, but now? Now I felt like a completely different person. I felt…alien in my own body, and yet I felt like I was surrounded by this shroud of darkness.
I felt…impossiblyexhausted. Not just physically but mentally as well. I felt like all the joy in the world had gone.
And I couldn’t stop crying.
But I had to. Eventually, I had to buck up and get out of bed. I had a signing today, which required a wig and a faceof makeup and clothes that I didn’t normally wear. My ‘Abigail Ross’ clothes.
All of that was at my place, all the way across town, and the signing was in three hours.
And yet, I just stared, blinking two or three times a minute, the tears seeping into my hairline.
God, what was wrong with me? I needed to get myself together.
I heard the door open, and my breath caught in my throat. I fought the urge to sniff, my heart pounding as I heard his near silent footsteps brush across the rug as he made his way around the bed to my side.
My eyes lifted, seeing him in nothing but black sweats that hung low on his hips, carrying a tray.
His eyes flicked down to mine, his motions faltering for half a second before he continued to the nightstand and placed the tray down.
I swallowed, pulling my knees towards my chest, only to hiss, the tears flooding down my cheeks again.
I pressed my lips together and he crouched down at my bedside, searching my face, but I covered it up quickly, a quiet sob cracking through me. “Sorry,” I whispered, my voice hoarse. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”
He reached out, gently pushing my hair out of my face, not forcing my hands away or pushing me to uncurl. “You’ve experienced an incredible high,” he explained softly. “It’s now time for the low.”
That’s what was happening? A sugar crash but on an emotional level? What fucking bullshit was that? It wasn’t fair.
“I had Evelyn bring your things here,” he went on gently. “Everything you need for the signing. We need to get food into you, water, electrolytes, and then we need to get you properly washed up. She’s seen pictures of what you look like as Abigail,and she’ll be back to do your hair and makeup soon.”
It took me several minutes to calm down enough to pull my hands away. I wiped my face, my eyes lifting to his. “How do you know about that?”
One corner of his lips flicked up in a bare smile. “I listened and I’m trying to learn.” He stood. “Come on, you need to sit up, drink the blue stuff while I check on your leg.”
My leg.
The tattoo.
I searched his eyes before my own fell to his hand. “Why don’t you feel it?” I asked, slowly sliding my hand into his.
“When women go through it, it’s highly emotional. Putting yourself into positions like that, allowing yourself to feel all of it so deeply. It drains you. For men, sex is mostly physical,” he explained, easing me up in bed. “Not completely, but mostly.”
