“Go back to sleep. Rest,” I tell him, but he yawns and shakes his head.
“I’ll be okay. How are you?”
I shrug. “Feeling less raped.” I regret the words as soon as they leave my mouth. I know it's not his fault, but I’m angry, and unfortunately, he’s standing directly in the line of fire.
“In that case, we’re making progress,” he counters, attempting to lighten the mood but failing miserably. His hazel eyes bore into mine with an intensity that makes me squirm uncomfortably under his gaze.
“What about you?”
“I’m fine.” He exhales harshly through his nose. “I’m so sorry about all of this,” Isaac murmurs, lifting his hand in the air as if he could comfort me. I bet his wrist is sore from all the tugging and pulling. I can laugh at the irony that we are both victims, and he’s apologizing to me as if somehow this is his fault.
“Don’t apologize. It’s not your fault.” My tone sounds harsher than I intended. I just can’t mask the bitterness in my tone. Sure, he’s also forced to perform… ugh. I shake the thought away, ignoring the frustration buzzing inside me. After a beat of silence, Iz mutters, “Fuck, I just wanna hold you,” before letting his hand drop back to his side, looking at me with a mixture of sadness and understanding. He knows he can’t fix it. Not now. Perhaps not ever. Still, he wants to hold me through the pain, like he would do every time I cried. The basement door opens once again, and this time, Priscilla is there alone, holding two sandwiches and two water bottles.Yay! Dinner time. She walks slowly, her head down and shoulders sagging like someone doing a walk of shame. Finally, her gaze meets mine. Hatred clouds my vision as I picture her riding him. Defiling him. I fucking hate her. I hate everything about this.
“I'm sorry about earlier,” she whispers as she hands me the water and sandwich. “I know this must be hard. We just really want a baby…” She glances at him. “…This is the only way.” She motions toward Isaac, who stares at her with disgust. If she somehow thinks this sob story is an excuse for everything, she has another thing coming. Isaac's voice booms through the haze of my mind.
“I’ll do it if it means he doesn’t touch her.” He points at me, trying to hide the emotion in his voice. “She’s not my blood sister. I’m just her stepbrother.”
Priscilla seems shocked, her eyes widening slightly before sauntering towards Isaac and handing him his water and his sandwich.
“Very well,” she replies tersely. “Then we wait for her to get her period, and you two can try, until then, things remain the same.”
“He’s not fucking touching her again,” Isaac says, his voice like steel. “I promise.”
There he goes making promises he can’t keep. And I once again can't speak. The knot in my throat is too tight to unravel. All I can do is offer a small dip in my chin as I listen to him say, “Use my body anytime you want, just keep him away from her.”
Priscilla’s eyes flicker between us before she saunters over towards him.
“Isaac,” I manage to choke out, my voice barely a whisper against the musty basement air. Why must he be the only one to tear parts of himself? When we are in this together. “You don’t have to…” My words are cut off by the steel determination written all over his face. My heart twists inside my chest, and the pain becomes physically unbearable, making it harder and harder to breathe.Iz.
“My husband shouldn’t have touched you. We talked about it, and he didn’t take well to having him touch me,” Priscilla says, her eyes checking out Isaac. She wants him, that’s for sure, and I hate that. Still, there's a hint of remorse, or maybe regret. I can’t be too sure, but it’s the kind of look you see in a person who has already accepted defeat. And trust me, I know because I’m certain that’s the same look that will reflect in my eyes.
“If you can’t get either of us pregnant, he will get her pregnant,” she mutters softly. “It’s just the way it has to be.”
“Over my dead body,” Isaac snarls, his fingers coiling into tight fists at his side. Priscilla takes an involuntary step back, her smile vanishing as quickly as it had appeared. She casts a nervous glance toward the doorway before turning back to Isaac. “You don’t have a choice, Isaac,” she mutters, her voice shaking slightly. “We need a child. You should be grateful that we’re giving you this privilege.” Her words hang heavy in the room, the silence pressing on our chests.
“Fuck you and your privilege. This isrape. Inhumane. Whatever you fucking believe is nothing but a delusionallie.” Isaac’s gaze doesn’t waver from Priscilla. His eyes burn with raw defiance and a fury that I have never seen before.
“It doesn’t change the outcome,” she snaps back, giving him a look of disdain before storming out of the basement. When the door closes behind her, I let outa breath I didn’t realize I was holding. My eyes find him as he collapses back into his sitting position, his bandage dirty and soiled.
“Are you gonna marry him?” Isaac asks softly, breaking the tense silence. My brows knit together, confusion clouding my mind.Is he serious right now?
“I – I,” I reply, taking a small bite of the tuna sandwich. “I didn’t answer. I’m not sure if that’s what I want. I don’t want kids or the life that he expects us to have.” Isaac continues to stare at the door, expecting it to swing back open, his fists still clenched at his side.
“I understand,” he replies, his voice heavy with unspoken emotions. “You don’t need to explain yourself. I know you. I know your dreams, your aspirations. They don’t include being trapped in a marriage you never asked for, or bearing children you never wanted. I'm sorry we ended up being in this fucking shitty situation.” He pauses, his eyes finally shifting back to meet mine, full of a resolve that sends chills down my spine. “We’ll figure this out together.”
I swallow hard, looking down at the half-eaten sandwich in my hand. Truthfully, I have stayed with Max because I couldn’t allow myself to suffer in silence for a man I couldn’t have. I needed to move on with my life, but the past hurt, and it demanded to be felt. The truth is that I have been in love with Isaac since we were kids, and when our parents got married and had Nixie, well, it was the worst time of my life. Well, now, second—this part takes the cake. Slowly, I place the sandwich down on the tray and look up at him. His gaze holds mine, steady and unblinking. “Isaac,” I begin, my voice barely a whisper. “There’s something I need to tell you. If we are going to die, at least I could be honest with you.”
“Don’t. Not here. Not now,” he shakes his head. “If you’re gonna finally admit, do it when we're out there. Do it when we are able to do something about it.” The whispered rebuttal catches me off guard, and I freeze, my confession dying on my lips. “When I get us out of here, we can talk about this,butwe are not dying here. And confessing sounds like we plan on dying, and I'm not ready to die yet.”
I watch as Isaac stands up, unclenching his fists and running a hand through his dark hair.
“I’m not ready either,” I finally say, watching him pace back and forth. “If it comes down to it, do it,” I add. He stops and looks at me. “Do what, mami?”
“Fuck me. I’d rather it be you than him.” His expression goes blank. It’s like the rug’s been pulled from under him and he’s unsure how to act. His brows furrow, lips pressing into a thin line, and I can see the tension ripple through his body. “Promise me.”
Isaac stands quietly for a moment before nodding. “Promise,” he finally echoes. I take one last glance at him before leaning against the dampened wall with a sigh. The coldness seeps into my clothes. Strangely, the temperature is what I notice the most. I hate being cold. I will always bundle up in a comfortable robe and my Beetlejuice slippers. Pressure begins to build behind my eyes. I miss my bed. My townhouse. My life. I wonder if he feels the same. “Isaac, please don’t let him touch me again.”
“Don’t worry, I won’t let that happen again,” he whispers back, his voice choked with a sense of guilt. The severity of his tone is more than enough to convince me that he will do all he can to keep that promise. I lean my head into the cold cement walls, feeling the tears burning my eyes, but I refuse to let them fall. Not when I can feel his focus on me, he’s keeping himself together because of me. The least I can do is the same. Like when we were kids, and I had to hold down our pirate ship. It was a silly game, but we have always looked out for one another, and time only made that feeling more intense. A scoff escapes my lips; the irony isn’t lost to me. I couldn’t have him one way, and now the universe has forced us together in this fucked up way. “Do you think he will be back?”
