Page 106 of Mommy

His splutters and gasps sound wet and I can feel my knuckles split against his teeth.

I don’t care.

I pour all of my hatred, all of my frustration into him, feeding him my anger like it’ll be his last meal.

He forced her, and had the nerve to make her feel like it was her fault? Fuck him.

My fist meets the broken mess that is his nose, and he yelps a sad something that sounds a little like please.

Too bad, he should’ve said sorry. Maybe then I could think he would make a different choice with Ivory today than he made years ago. Maybe he’d stop himself from making the same mistake twice. Maybe believing that would persuade me to not repeat the motion and shatter whatever’s left of his face.

I think that was the bit that missed for his survival instincts to kick in. His legs shoot out and he manages to get the side of my knee. In a heartbeat, I lose the feeling of my toes, and stumble back a little.

Shaking out my leg, I wait for it to steady again, but when it doesn’t I shrug it off and climb on top of the bed.

“You shouldn’t have done that.” I say, caging his frame between my thighs, pinning him to the mattress.

He sobs. But his tears won’t stop me. After all, he taught me that crying doesn’t really count as saying no, right?

I stretch my fingers before balling my right hand back into a fist. My left reaches out for his face, grabbing his jaw in a crushing grip. Leaning forward, I speak. The words flow against his forehead, past his swollen shut eyes from where tears leak in a steady stream.

“It’s a blurry line, huh?” Holding his face steady, I draw back my fist.

Time loses track around us, seconds stretching into minutes and when the veil of anger finally thins the man beneath me is barely recognizable.

I’m not sure if it’s the limp or the blood on my knuckles that tips Ezekiel off to what happened inside the apartment. That I didn’t even bother to take out the gun I had tucked into the back of my jeans.

Once I sit down, Ez hands me a tissue.

The dim glow of the street light accentuates his face, giving his smile a maniac edge.

“Told you,” he says grinning.

When I don’t answer, he goes on.

“At some point a gun just won’t do anymore.”

His words come back to me. The words he spoke, what feels like a lifetime ago. Back then I was sure, I would always prefer the clean work of a weapon. Not tonight though. Tonight, I didn’t want it to be clean. I wanted the mess and the rage.

Seems like I do get it after all. After years of not understanding how Ezekiel could willingly dirty his hands on the scum he deals with, I finally get it.

I’m all fucking in. There’s no more going back.

Chapter fifty three

Ivory

It feels weird. Having told Derek about Alex. It feels like I cheated or lied even though I didn’t. Society has made so clear who’s in the wrong here that when I mention the relationship I was in, and how it made me feel it’s as if I’m not telling the whole story. It feels as if I’m supposed to explain to people why he did what he did. Because surely there is a good reason. There has to be, right?

I never understood that logic.

When I turn my head to the side, I can see Derek beside me. He’s not awake yet, his features softened by sleep and his eyes moving with a distant dream.

He must have been tired, if he’s still sleeping.

Sliding my legs out from under the blanket, I’m careful to be silent as a mouse when I tiptoe my way to the door.

Derek doesn’t wake.