I hate Dominik for throwing my brother into the mix because he knows Aaron is all I have left. He knows I would do anything to make sure this doesn’t reach him. If Aaron found out what Dominik did, he would commit murder. And guess whose fault it would be? Mine.
I am the common denominator in every disaster.
My mother was amazing for reminding me how much of a mistake I am. How my existence made her life so complicated. How my dad couldn’t even look at me.
I just want to run away.
The one thing that was mine is no longer mine. It’s a secret I share with my brother’s best friend. A secret he’s known for the last six years, but I never did, not until now. And not because he wanted me to know, either. Dominik would have likely hidden this forever if I hadn’t rooted through his closet.
The elevator doors chime, and I enter, finding it difficult to meet my own gaze in the numerous mirrors staring at me.
You’re a worthless piece of shit, and you will always be a worthless piece of shit.
My breathing becomes rapid, each breath shallow and unsteady. The tears well up, threatening to spill over. The elevator walls close in around me, suffocating and confining. I want to crumble right here, in this small space, and drown in the overwhelming emotions running through me. The weight of it all threatens to consume me. But I’m the same powerless, waste of space I’ve always been. Trying to make myself smaller and smaller but failing to let go of the one weakness that haunts me. Hope, my forever burden and a constant reminder of something I’ll never have.
I’m tired of feeling everything. I want to turn it all off, and I know exactly what will help me drown out the noise right now.
The elevator comes to a halt at the top floor, and just as the doors open, the familiardingrings out. Aaron’s penthouse comes into full view as I quickly wipe the tears off my face, vowing to leave the pathetic version of myself behind in the elevator as the doors shut. I’m done entertaining that bitch.
I don’t even bother calling out to Aaron. I know he’s not here. What would he think if I called him right now and told him whathappened? What his best friend did to me in Boston? What he did to me last night on his couch?
As if wanting me all this time makes any of this okay. I should hate that the most, but what’s even more fucked up is that I don’t. Hearing his confession, seeing the box, and the reasons behind is not as terrible as it should be. What the fuck is wrong with me?
Are we really going to open that can of worms, today of all days?
Dominik is disgusting and sick and fucking twisted. End of discussion.
He’s a psychopath, and he shattered every fond memory that was linked to my one mystery man, Runi.
Runi is no longer this amazing experience that opened me up to the world of BDSM. Dominik knew who I was and used it to his advantage that night.
He gave you exactly what you wanted, and you agreed for him to stay in the mask. You are just as much to blame for this as he is.
Kindly shut the fuck up, brain. Please and thank you.
Pacing Aaron’s living room, my eyes fall to his liquor cart and the vast collection of alcohol sitting neatly on the glass.
I need a break, just for today. Just enough to give myself some quiet before I have to face Dominik again. The alcohol will numb my emotions and help me forget about this, maybe even fall asleep peacefully. I grab the bottle of gin and crack it open, almost vomiting on the spot as I begin chugging. The fucking thing tastes like cleaning solution, burning my throat on its way down, but I welcome the pain.
Sliding down the wall, I sit in the living room, my eyes focusing on one of Aaron’s giant abstract paintings as I force the gin down. And soon enough, with each passing minute, I start to feel less. The numbness finally taking over my senses.
But there is one thing I can’t seem to force away. And that’s the fact that no one has ever wanted me so much they’d do all the things Dominik did. I have never mattered, was always a second thought, yet I’m supposed to believe that someone like Dominik has always desired me? So much so that he couldn’t stay away? That his actions were driven by his intense need?
Why? No one has ever wanted me that way.
It must be something else. Some other reason.
Does it even matter? It was wrong.
Yes, wrong in every way, and it shouldn’t matter. Because he lied and took advantage of me. He invaded my privacy and withheld information from me. He masked his true identity and took something from me that wasn’t his. Consent or not, it was wrong.
Right?
Then why does it feel like this? Why don’t thoughts of last night disgust me as I sit here in the aftermath?
It doesn’t matter. I want to get through the next two months and then erase Dominik from my memory. A part of me wants to run away from this place and never look back. If only it were that easy.
3
