“Elm?” Sitting up, I turned to face him.
Elm’s gaze was glued to a spot on the floor.
“No- No- No mean- No mean to-”
His words stopped me cold. The drops of blood on the spot he couldn’t take his eyes away from and his words combined had me frowning up at him.
“It’s fine,” I said easily. Yes, there was blood streaking that puddle beneath me but it wasn’t the end of the world. I was fine. I wasn’t about to go any further than that, at least not right now with him acting funny and saying he didn’t mean to. He didn’t mean to what? Fuck me into the floor? Have sex with me? Kiss me? Cause some discomfort that for me was worth the pain? I’d never had sex before and my vibrator certainly wasn’t as big as him or screwing me into the wood floor. A little painfor a lotta pleasure. I was pretty confident those miniscule bits of red mixed in with his seed were nothing if he’d really meant to hurt me.
To be honest, my shoulder stung more than anything.
“No mean to- No mean to,” he blurted on, eyes wide with terror, like he was afraid of himself? I didn’t know. He was panicking and I was trying not to feel offended. The guy freaking out afterward and mumbling that he didn’t mean to was not how I’d imagined having sex for the first time.
Gaining my feet, nabbing my pants on the way to slip them on, I took Elm’s hands in mine and pressed them between us. “Hey. Talk to me, huh?”
“Elm no mean to- No mean to-” Looking far more troubled than I knew what to do with, Elm quickly shook his head. His gaze caught and held on something and he jerked his hands from mine.
Feeling properly rejected, I took a few healthy steps back.
“You didn’t mean to what?” My voice was cool, calm. I gave myself credit for keeping the hurt I was feeling from entering my voice.
A pained noise huffed out of the giant trembling before me. He’d barely undone his pants for this, opening them enough to free that monster hanging loose and free, still at half mast and covered in the evidence of this supposed atrocity we’d commited.
“Elm?” I tried again. When I went to step towards him, he spied my torn shirt and an ugly noise left him. Pausing as I reached out to him, I ended up wrapping my arms around myself instead.
“No mean to,” he kept on, until I felt my nerves fraying.
Shaking his head, he took a few shuffling steps backwards, bumping into the wall.
Not knowing what else to do, to say, I turned my back to him and gave him an out. “Maybe… maybe you should just leave.”
Expecting him to snap out of it, talk about it, maybe hug it out, I have no clue, something a normal human being might venture to try, mumbling, “‘Kay,” jerking up his pants to hurry and rush out the door, were not it.
“Fine. Fuck you too,” I muttered as I rushed after him to slam the door shut on his cowardly ass and lock it. I got a few steps into the living room before the sniffles started. I was angry mad, the kind that makes you cry. I’m so mad I want to punch something and being denied the pleasure has me weepy. UGH!
Giving in to the urge to scream it out, I sat on the couch, throwing a pillow to the floor in an admittedly childish fit, and I did just that.
The neighbors were in Florida until next month, so no worries there on having unexpected visitors popping in to make sure I was okay. With that thought in mind, I did it again, and again, until all that was left was the stupid eye watering sniffles escaping me unbidden and my panting breaths.
After my fit of pique had come and gone, I was left to sit and think about what had just transpired. Whatever the fuck that was.
A beautiful disaster.
Stomach rumbling, head aching from all the fuss I’d just kicked up, I trudged off to my bedroom to change and then shuffle my way to the kitchen to scrounge up some grub.
Considering my track record for holding onto things far past their expiration date, I was doing a marvelous job of pretending Elm hadn’t just screwed me into my next existence, to then freak out, claim he didn’t mean it in a questionable manner, and hightail it outta here.
He’d stopped hanging out with ME because I was a bad influence? Pfft.
“Maybe they’re all crazy and I’m the sane one,” I muttered as I put on my favorite slippers, freshly redressed, and rummaged around for something to eat. Not two seconds after I’d said it, I snorted.
Fine. Maybe we’re all nuttier than Mom’s special fruitcake recipe. The end.
With a heavy sigh, a crooked smile tipped the corner of my mouth. To quote our favorite childhood story, a buddy read between best friends, “We’re all mad here.”
Chapter 3
That stupid box was still outside, mocking me, left to the wilds of Whinterlan. Maybe, if I was lucky, a squirrel would make off with it.
