Chapter 24: Chapter 24
Chapter 24
ALICIA
Happiness is being fucked so rough you can hardly breathe, can hardly speak, can do nothing but squeal like a rat as he nails you over and over, pushing inside of you so hard, so deep, that you can feel the man not only with your body but also with your soul as well. Happiness is waking up the following morning, barely able to recall your own name because the only one that mattered was his, screamed so loud your throat is painfully raw like the name had bled from your lips.
And love. . .
It means seeing the beauty in the ugly, the light in the dark, and accepting that even if the lights are off and I can't see what's in front of me, there will be something to guide my way. Love means turning yourself inside out and handing yourself over to someone else. Trusting them to touch you, handle you, and bend you, but never break what you give them.
It takes just two days to realize it. Two days of being cocooned in his room, not coming out, not even leaving the bed except to take a shower with him, or to eat.
Just two days it takes for me to realize that I love him.
Fuck. . . I love Ash.
But I can't tell him that.
I will not be laughed at, no, not by him. So I say something else instead.
"I hate you." The words tumble from my lips as a strained whisper, a shuddering breath forced from me as the butterflies take flight in my stomach, constricting my chest until I can't fucking breathe.
His eyes slowly open to meet my gaze. He doesn't move - doesn't react - he stares at me so hard it feels like he's eye-fucking my soul like maybe he thought he heard me but it couldn't have possibly been so.
So I say it again. "I hate you." This time, it lacks conviction, and we both know what I meant to say was the opposite.
The second time gets a reaction, his expression hardening to the point I think his face is carved in stone. He carries me up from the bed in one fell swoop and I cling to him in shock. He roughly drops me on the table where our discarded tray of food is and I feel things digging into my back. He steps in between my legs, one hand clutching my naked hip to keep me in place as his hand settles on my neck.
He thrusts inside of me hard, and I gasp, the noise cut off when the hand around my throat squeezes. My chest viciously burns when I try to inhale, pressure mounting inside of me. He fiercely thrusts inside of me again and again, not letting go of my neck. My vision blurs and time stands still as his calloused finger presses against my jugular.
I can't breathe.
I can't breathe.
I can't fucking breathe.
The pressure builds, and builds, and builds until I feel like I'm going to burst. Both of my hands clutch his arm, grasping it as tightly as he's pressing against my neck, terror like I've never known overwhelming me. I draw at the skin of his arm, trying to claw him off but he's strong.
So strong.
Too strong.
Seconds feel like hours. It's only a few, no more than ten. Ten seconds that last an eternity as he chokes me. The pressure builds until it has nowhere to go, blackness speckling my vision as I explode. It's terrifying, the way my body seems to have caught fire, the bomb going off inside of me, obliterating me at the core. I inhale sharply, my lungs hungrily swelling as the weight on my neck lessens when he loosens his hold.
My body convulses, a shrill sound escaping me, primal, inhuman.
I'm a fucking animal.
Orgasm rocks me, tingling my scalp and curling my toes. I desperately try to catch my breath but every muscle spasm knocks it right back out of me as I gasp. . . and gasp. . .and gasp, for more air. It feels like it goes on forever, the pleasure so intense, and the high so high, that before it even dissipates I feel like I've slammed into the ground.
"Stop!" I cry out, the word strangled. All at once, his hand leaves my neck entirely as he slows his movements. He doesn't stop, doesn't pull out. He leans further over the table to look down at me.
His eyes meet mine, worried. Tears obscure my vision, one slipping down my cheek that he wipes away. He pulls me up, shifting me to the edge of the table as his arms wrap around me. His movements are measured, his hands gentle. A strange sort of elation settles through me as my body relaxes, a lingering tingle in my limbs as he holds me against his chest.
Never in my life have I felt such force. Never before have I felt so grateful just to breathe.
I've never felt so alive.
It's sick.
Maybe I'm sick but I'm almost tempted to ask him to do it again.
I don't, though. I say nothing, do nothing.
He finishes not long after but doesn't pull out this time. I can feel him coming inside of me, convulsing, filling all of me with all of him for the first time. He stops then, his breathing haggard as he whispers into my hair. "I hate you too."
*
The walk of shame.
Every girl's nightmare. The time she comes back home the day after, dressed in the clothes of the night before. Or in my case, two days after, in - I look down at myself and grimace - my pajamas.
The neighbors are going to have a field day with this one.
Loud rap music filters into my ears the moment I step out of Ash's car. Imagine going from one second listening to jazz music, and the next - to rap. It's an assault on the ears at the very least. A group of young males stand to the side watching me avidly. One of them whistles as my pajama shorts ride up. "Nice look, shortie."
Ash pops his head out the window and I can see his shoulders shake. He's laughing at me. He beckons on me with a finger and like a marionette, I move toward him. He kisses me slowly, taking his time to nip at my bottom lip. Just when I begin to get all hot and bothered, he stops and rests his forehead against mine, murmuring in the process. "You'll be fine, just ignore them."
I nod and step away from his car before turning around, several eyes following me as I walk the short distance to the door. It's not until I'm safely inside the apartment that I breathe a heavy sigh of relief. I hear tires squealing and I rush to the window just in time to see the tail light of Ash's hummer jeep as he drives off, leaving a flurry of dust and gravel in his wake.
The first thing I do is take a long shower, but no matter how long I stand under the water, it doesn't erase what my body has gone through. The onslaught and assault. I feel the soreness in certain places and I know it will ease in a few days. What I know won't ease are the memories; they come pouring in as soon as I close my eyes. So I open them, and still, they don't let up.
I decide it's time to step out of the shower so I quickly lather up and wash off all the soap. I wrap myself in my towel and head to the kitchen. My stomach growls in anticipation of feeding it but I'm disappointed when my search for food turns up empty. There are only ramen noodles in the cupboard so I grudgingly cook and eat them just as fast.
As I open the fridge, I see a note stuck to it with one of the decorative pieces. I remove it and read the two sentences Tanya penned down. It's nothing detailed, just to let me know she's going on a trip and not to get worried if I don't hear from her for a few weeks. With my stomach sated, I step back into the bedroom and pull on some clothes, then it's back to the sitting room.
I see some unopened mail on the table but I decide to hold up on reading them because I'm sure they're nothing but bills. After a while of surfing through various channels and finding nothing of interest, I decide to check the mail. The first one I open is a cheque from Harry's cargo. There's no accompanying letter so I know it must be a mistake. I call Human Resources and inform them about it. I'm told it wasn't a mistake and that I should check with Mr. Harry.
Human resource patches me through to him and he confirms it was indeed he who ordered it sent to me and would continue doing so. He blows me away by telling me I would be welcome back when next I'm on another school holiday. I'm so happy about this news that I don't feel bad when I open the second envelope to see it's the electricity bill. With the money from Harry's cargo, I can pay the bills and buy some much-needed necessities.