He had disappeared into the bathroom when he felt like he was done with me. And I couldn’t even find my clothes when I searched for them. But then again the tears had run down continuously, making my vision blurry. So I just threw on a random shirt I found on the bed. It had smelt like him–the shirt; harsh, intoxicating, but I didn’t care. I just wanted to get out of there, but not naked.
But escaping from his presence wasn’t nearly enough. I could still feel his callous hands on me, still smell his scent clinging to my skin, and I could taste the vice and whiskey on his wicked tongue when he kissed me so roughly, wildly, like a man possessed.
I wanted to scrub him off me. Every single trace of him. I wanted to dig into my skin, rupture the veins and bleed out whatever he had spilled inside me.
But he had left so many marks on me, both hidden and physical, that was hard to erase. No matter how hard I scrubbed, the ghost of his touch was still there. He had carved something inside me, I knew it. I didn’t know what it was but it was there.I could hear the echo. I could feel the pulse. I could feel it breathing.
I wasn’t the way I was yesterday.
“He isn’t abusive, is he?” Kenzo asked, cautiously, almost as if he was afraid of the words coming out of his mouth. “He didn’t hurt you, did he?”
“No.”
“This was your first time experiencing something like…” The movement of his hand as he played with the foam paused, his eyes lifting to my chest, then shifting to my neck and collarbone. “…this. You were comfortable with it, right?”
I wasn’t used to this manner of love-making, or whatever that thing in there was. I was used to soft touches and lingering kisses. I was definitely not comfortable with what he did to me, how he handled me like I was a war to conquer. But I didn’t fight him enough. I surrendered too easily, so quickly, like my will was made out of thin robber that bent and folded at command. And that was what scared me. I didn’t fight hard enough. I gave up and let him do whatever he wanted…like I was okay with it, like secretly, I wanted it that way.
“Yes.” I nodded. “It…didn’t hurt.”
It did hurt. His teeth felt like a blade tearing open my skin. It hurt like hell, but somehow, with a languid stroke of his tongue, it began to burn differently, marvellously, dangerously…beautifully. I couldn’t explain it. It wasn’t a burn that made me feel like crying. It was a burn that made me bare my neck for more.
Silence stretched between Kenzo and I. He watched me quietly, while I focused on the foam surrounding me, tracing the bubbles as they began to thin, collapse and disappear.
A gentle breath I dragged in some minutes later, broke the silence. “They said our car is ready,” I announced, lifting my eyes to meet his ever calculating ones. “We can go now.”
“Okay.” He simply nodded, then rose to his feet.
“Did you later take a picture of the thing?” I asked, remembering him mentioning something earlier about a black python locked in a cage at the far end of the east wing. He’d found it while exploring yesterday after dinner.
“They didn’t let me.” He drew in a sharp breath, like my question brought back horrible memories. “Fucking arsholes snatched my phone and deleted every single pictures I took yesterday. Threatened to smash it if I took another.”
“Why?” My brows furrowed. This was exactly what I was afraid of. Soldiers were impatient and emotionless. I didn’t want him to get tangled up with them for any reason whatsoever. I knew something like this was bound to happen.
This was a private property. Random strangers taking pictures might be prohibited. Freedom was luxury when dealing with soldiers. But there were just too many amazing, unusual things on sight. Things worth adding to one’s collection of moments.
“Don’t know why they did that.” He shrugged. “And frankly speaking, I don’t care.”
He then walked across the large bathroom to the towel rack, grabbing a clean one. “Perhaps this location and everything here is top secret,” he added as an afterthought.
He came closer, draped the towel over his shoulder first, then grabbed my shoulders, his fingers pressing into my skin as he lifted me from the water.
“Soldiers are all so weird and secretive,” he continued with irritation. “I won’t be surprised if they’re building something weird underground. Maybe that was why your so-called boyfriend was so pissed that you came unannounced.”
He wrapped the towel around me, leading me out of the bathroom.
“I noticed how cold and moody he was yesterday,” he added, scoffing.
I knew he was well aware. Kenzo paid way too much attention to things that involved me to not have noticed that the Callan that I always spoke so highly of, portrayed as an angel, wasn’t exactly the same one we met yesterday.
“I’m sure you’re overthinking it.” I sank into the edge of the bed. “He was just…exhausted.”
That was the safest thing to say. People’s moods usually became sour when they were overworked and exhausted. That was more believable and acceptable than telling him there were actually two people slipping between bodies.
That I accepted the ghost’s theory, accepted that Callan wasn’t the same man I just shared a part of myself with, didn’t mean others would.
“Sure,” Kenzo hummed, zipping open my backpack and pulling out the pink, floral sundress that wasn’t my choice earlier. “Let’s just get out of here. It’s too tense and serious. I hate tense and serious environments.”
“We’ll leave,” I assured. “We’ll leave now.”
