Asshole father, remember?
I wasn’t lying to her when I told her that yes, it hurt like a mother when he asked me to give up soccer in exchange for her freedom and come work for him. It made me angry too, furious, that I was so close to winning, so close to showing him once and for all that he wouldn’t control me.
But it didn’t make me as angry as I was when I found out my father’d got his evil clutches into her.
And it didn’t make me as angry as I am right now.
As angry as I get when I think of something else.
I didn’t have a condom on me.
She pissed me the fuck off, made my blood burn with jealousy and I wasn’t thinking straight, all right?
I wasn’t thinking about anything other than getting inside of her body, erasing that goddamn son of a bitch, and it didn’toccur to me that I was bare. Not until I was already inside of her. Not until I was already coming and I pulled out.
I know I pulled out. Ifuckingknow that but…
But what if that wasn’t enough?
What if…
Jesus Christ.
The whole drive back from St. Mary’s, I kept thinking that that was it. That tonight would be the last time. That I’d give her what she wanted. It didn’t even make sense, me going there. The video is done.
If she wants to fall for someone, she can fucking fall for someone.
And she better pray that I don’t ever find out who he is.
Because if I do, I will murder him. I will kill him just for breathing the same air as her.
That’s what I do in my thoughts. When I picture her with someone. When I torture myself with the possibility that she might’ve moved on. That she’s giving her sweet smiles to someone else. That she’s fuckingdancingfor someone else.
But fuck it all now.
Fuck what she wants.
If she wanted me to stay away, she shouldn’t have lied. She shouldn’t have angered me, made me furious enough to hurt her like that. To make her bleed over my dick, my thighs.
To not only hurt her but to get inside her all bare, all thoughtless.
So fuck what she wants.
I’m seeing her again.
Chapter Twelve
There’s something wrong with me.
For the first few days I try to deny it.
I try to deny that I’m sad. I try to deny that I cry in my pillow at night. That I can’t sleep or focus. And that I’m just bone tired.
I try to deny that all of this is because it’s over.
Because I’ve had closure now and because I’ll never see him again.
Because it’s crazy.
