Lilac
My eyes are glued to Irvin. His abs are on display, and he has only boxers on. He sits up by the window, looking out. So many emotions swirl inside me: fear, anger, yearning. He forced my hands when he made me admit I feel something for him. I thought I’d never admit it out loud—or even to myself. He stalks up to me, traces his fingers along my jaw, and his deep sage eyes match my gaze.
My body shrinks away from him, and my mouth feels as if I’m swallowing cotton. I want to flee, to run from him, but a part of me wants him to wrap his arms around me. I want his touch—the essence of him. He’s manipulative. I shouldn’t feel anything for him. The more time I spend with him, stuck in this marriage, the more he sucks me into his orbit.
He kisses me deeply, rougher than usual. My soft whimpers echo off the walls.
When he pulls away, my body freezes and my heart rate accelerates, and I instantly grab his hand.
Where is he going? He can’t leave me alone.
What’s wrong with me? Why am I suddenly acting needy and clingy?
This isn’t like me.
Why did I grab his hand like that? I squeeze tighter.
His eyes drop to our intertwined fingers. He tries to pull away, but I yank harder. He leans down, brushes his lips against my forehead. A shiver snakes up my spine.
“I’m not leaving, my princess. I’m just going to lie on the bed.”
Tears gloss my eyes. I don’t know what’s happening to me. The silence stretches between us. The wind beats against the crown windows. It’s suffocating. I feel instantly like my skin is burning.
“Tell me what’s going on in that pretty head of yours.” Irvin’s tone is gentle.
I listen to the clock on the nightstand tick. I listen to my laboring breaths. A bird chirps outside on the oak branch.
I’m conflicted, confused about what’s going on in my mind—and why I’m addicted to Irvin. He gives me the terror I crave, but I feel safe in it. I’m addicted to him emotionally and sexually. I feel like an addict. Is it possible to be addicted to someone? To another human being? Tears trickle down my cheeks, and he wipes them away. His touch burns me like lava.
“I have no idea, Irvin,” I answer truthfully.
He pats between his legs, and I nestle myself on his lap, inhaling his expensive cologne. I feel at home and safe in his lap.
“This is why you need me to control you, my love. Where would you be without me?”
I listen to his heartbeat. It’s the most comforting beat I’ve ever heard. I straddle him, watching as he touches my breast. I love his hands on my body.
He’s absolutely right. Where would I be without him? He’s the only person who pushes me to the edge, the only person whochallenges me. He allows me to let my hair down. I would be lost without him. I don’t know if I want to admit something like that to him. This addiction I have isn’t healthy.
I need to tell him what’s really going on. I need to finally be honest with myself.
“Can I be honest with you, Irvin?”
He smiles. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
Here goes nothing. “You terrify me at times—your ruthlessness, your coldness, your need to control me.” I pause, tracing my fingers along his facial hair. “But I feel safer with you than anyone else. Your possessiveness and obsession scare me sometimes.” He wipes tears from my eyes. I wasn’t aware I was crying. “I don’t know why I’ve always been drawn to you.”
He tucks a strand of my hair behind my ear. “This is my version of love, my princess—by controlling you.”
“I know.”
He sits up and kisses me on the forehead. “Look at me and tell me you don’t want this.”
I don’t want to want him. I don’t want to crave him or need him. The thought of being apart from him feels worse than anything he could do to me.
My throat tightens. “I can’t. I can’t tell you that.”
He grips my hips hard, digging his nails into my flesh. I inhale sharply. He pushes his sweatpants down and slides inside me, fucking me slowly, never taking his eyes off mine. For the first time, I feel grounded. I hate that it feels like safety to have him obsessed with me.
