by Beck, J. L.
I’m back in my bubble, protected, sheltered from the storm of emotions. Making another cut, I hiss as the skin separates and a burn zings across the inside of my thigh. I’m not ashamed here. I’m not broken or sad. I am merely me. I drop the razor blade and let the endorphins consume me, feeling the warmth of blood against my thighs, and smelling the coppery tang as I breathe through my mouth.
After sitting there for a long while, I get up, clean the cuts, and wash my face before getting myself ready for bed. I feel lighter, free, and as I crawl into my bed, I consider talking to my parents about leaving Blackthorn. If I’d known that Jackson was here, I’m not sure I would’ve chosen to come here.
Still, if it comes down to staying here or going home, I’m staying. At least here, I don’t have to deal with how much my father hates me or face the fact that my mom would rather ignore my problem than help me.
There is always the option of transferring somewhere else, but I doubt that would happen midway through the semester. I may just have to deal with Jackson for a little while longer. I can do my best to avoid him and hope for the best.
* * *
The next morning, I get up early and meet my parents at a local diner near campus. I’m both happy and sad that they’re leaving today. Happy because my dad hates me, but sad because they are still my family, and at least my mom pretends to care about me.
When I walk into the diner, I find them sitting at a horseshoe-shaped booth. They’ve ordered coffee already, and one for me as well.
“Good morning, sweetie,” Mom greets as I slide into the booth, taking the seat beside her. Dad doesn’t even look up from the paper he’s reading. I really don’t want to react; I just want to push my anger toward him down, but I’m tired of being treated like garbage every time he sees me. I’m still his daughter.
“I ordered you a coffee, eggs, bacon, and toast with strawberry jam. I hope that’s okay.”
I nod and pour some cream and sugar into my coffee, stirring it with the spoon. Taking a sip of the coffee, I let it warm me all over before I set the mug down.
“Are you feeling better today?”
“Yes.” It’s the truth. I’m feeling much better today, but only because I cut myself last night. I always feel better afterward. It’s like I’m cleansing myself when I do it.
“Good. We stayed for a little while longer and then went back to our hotel. Trish and Ken were sad that you left without saying goodbye. I told them you weren’t feeling well.”
Taking another sip of my coffee, I try not to feel guilty for walking out without even saying goodbye. They poured their hearts out to me, told me they loved me and missed me, and I disappeared to use the bathroom, and never came back.
“Personally, I’d prefer if you kept your distance from them. We just got settled into this new place. I don’t want the past to get brought up all over again,” Dad adds, finally glancing up from the paper. He doesn’t look at me as he speaks though, more like through me, as if I’m not even there. I curl my hand into a fist beneath the table.
“Trish wants to have lunch, surely that isn’t dangerous,” I mock.
“I don’t care if it’s dinner, lunch, or a party. I don’t want you spending any time with them. You killed their daughter with your underage drinking and driving. You’re lucky we knew the judge. Otherwise, you would be in prison right now.” And there it is. He always finds a way to bring me down, to make me feel lower than dirt.
Looking away, I say, “I’m starting to think I would rather be in prison.”
“Oh, stop it, sweetie,” Mom interjects, obviously, trying to defuse the situation. “Everything is looking up. Plus, you seem to be doing well at Blackthorn. College is just what you needed.”
“Yeah, about that…” I fiddle with my silverware. “I was wondering if maybe there was another option. Maybe a different school I could attend. I like Blackthorn, but I’m…”
I don’t even get to finish before my father interrupts, “You’re so goddamn ungrateful. First, we make sure you don’t end up in prison and help you so you can afford to attend this school, and then you ask if we can find you somewhere else to go.”
“Travis,” Mom scolds, her cheeks turning red.
“Don’t bother, Mom. I don’t know why Dad doesn’t admit that he’s ashamed to have me as his daughter. He’ll never let go of what I did. He’ll always hold it over my head, reminding me of how shitty of a person I am.”
“Kennedy,” she says, sighing. I can see how torn she is. She’s being tugged in both directions, but I don’t need my mom to take my side. I know I fucked up, but I don’t need to be reminded of it every day.
Scooting out of the booth, I can see my mother wants to reach for me, but I shake my head at her. “I’m going home. You guys don’t have to come here anymore. Clearly, Dad doesn’t want to see me, and I’m done feeling like shit. Done being treated like this. I know what I did was wrong. I know I fucked up, but I can’t change it. I can’t fix this.”
“Wait, Kennedy, don’t leave, you haven’t even eaten yet.”
Almost laughing, I say, “You’re more concerned about me eating than what I just said, and that is one of the problems, Mom. I love you, but I can’t do this anymore.”
I leave the diner with tears in my eyes but hold my head high as I walk down the sidewalk.
When I get back to my apartment, I make myself some breakfast and crawl back into bed. My fingers move all on their own, tracing over the scars, each one a reminder of how close I was to breaking. I’ve survived so much so far, surely, I can survive Jackson a little longer.
I’ll just avoid him, just like I’ll avoid my parents. I’ll live in my own little bubble and hide from the rest of the world. Either way, I’ll survive because something tells me that’s what Jillian would’ve wanted.
15
Jackson
My parents spent the rest of the weekend trying to calm me down, telling me I need to stop being angry and see a therapist. Fuck, therapy? There is nothing and no one that can fix me. Sitting and talking about my sister’s death with some doctor, who has no idea what I’m going through, isn’t going to help me. I don’t care if it helped them.
I’m actually relieved when they finally leave after dinner. We said our goodbyes at the restaurant, and I started walking home. The problem is, I don’t want to go back home. I don’t want to sit alone at my place, but I also don’t want to go anywhere else. I don’t want to talk or feel, which leaves me aimlessly walking around town.
It’s dark outside, the air crisp, and when I check the time, I realize it’s almost midnight. Tucking my phone back into my pocket, I look around to see where I am. It doesn’t take me long to notice I’m basically standing across the street from Kennedy’s apartment complex. Fuck, can’t I get away from her? Anger surges to the surface and all the calming down I’ve achieved by walking around evaporates into thin air. She fucking ruins everything.
Before I even think about what I’m doing, I’m across the street and walking into her apartment building. Climbing the stairs, I take them two at a time, suddenly, I have this deep, primal urge to see her, feel her like I did when she was at my place, bent over my couch with her ass in the air.
I bang my fist against her door, the sound echoes through the otherwise silent hallway.
“Open up, Kennedy,” I yell at the door. “Do it, or I’ll kick it down.” I continue banging, not giving a shit who I wake up. I’ll wake up the entire fucking building if I have to.
A moment later, the door opens, and Kennedy appears in front of me. Her silky blonde hair is in a messy bun on top of her head, and she squints her eyes at the bright light flooding into her apartment from the hallway. Clearly, I woke her up. Oops.
“What are you doing here?” she rasps, her voice still sleepy.
Instead of answering her, I shove past her and into her apartment without an invitation. She closes the door behind us and turns to face me, turning on a light switch beside us. At least she�
�s starting to understand how this works. I’m tempted to bring up whatever the fuck it was that I felt on her thighs, but I want to sink my cock into her more than I care to hear what the hell is going on with her. This is all part of convincing myself that I don’t care about her. If I don’t ask questions, then I have nothing to care about.
“Take your clothes off. I want to fuck you again.”
Her mouth falls open in shock as if she can’t believe what I just said. What did she think I showed up here for in the middle of the night?
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
She can’t be serious, can she? Us fucking is always a good idea. It’s the only good thing between us. It’s either we fuck, or I’m hurting her or she’s hurting me. There are no other options.
“I didn’t ask you what you thought. I told you to take off your clothes.” Folding my arms over my chest, I scowl down at her. “Tick tock. I don’t have all night. Do it, or I do it for you.”
I watch her closely as she bites her bottom lip. Nervously, she looks around the room as if she is thinking about how to get out of this.
Oh, bug, there is no getting away.
Run, and I’ll just drag you back here screaming.
She doesn’t look scared though, maybe uncomfortable, but not scared. Her cheeks are a light shade of pink but redden when she finally says, “In my room, lights off.”
Unable to stop myself, I smirk as I give her a nod and follow her into her bedroom. The lights are off in her room, but the hallway lamp shines enough light to let me see where the bed is before she closes the door, blanketing us in darkness.
I can hear her taking her clothes off, the sound of fabric hitting the ground. I shove my shorts and boxers down in one go before tugging my shirt off over my head.
“I want you on your hands and knees. No fucking talking. I don’t want to hear a whimper or cry. I just want to fuck you. You owe me that much for making me bleed the other day.”
“Fine,” she whispers, and I listen as she moves toward the bed, climbing up onto the mattress. Walking over to the bed, I go slow in the unfamiliar room. When I reach the bed, I feel around for her and find her as I asked, on her hands and knees.
Running a hand from her shoulder and down her arched back, I only stop when I’m cupping her firm ass. She shivers under my touch but doesn’t move or say anything. Positioning myself behind her, I run both hands over her lower back and ass, enjoying how smooth her skin is. My cock is impossibly hard, and my balls ache for release.
Fuck, why do I want her so badly? I could have any girl on campus, and yet I choose the enemy.
Keeping one hand on her slender hip, I snake the other down between her legs. My fingers trace her lips, her sweet arousal coating them already. She can act like the innocent, unwilling girl all she wants, but her body doesn’t lie.
She wants this, wants me to fuck her, probably as bad as I want to.
“You’re wet, bug. So, fucking wet. You act like you don’t want this. Like you hate me, and maybe you do, but we both know you love me fucking you.” The swollen head of my cock bumps against her entrance, and I pinch her clit between my fingers. I smile at the rapid intake of air into her lungs. She grows wetter and wetter, and soon I can’t help myself.
When I’m certain she’s wet enough to take me, I line my cock up with her entrance and enter her in one swift shift of my hips.
Tight as a glove, she clamps down around me, and my eyes roll to the back of my head for a moment. Fuck me. Of all the girls I’ve fucked, no one even remotely compares to how good Kennedy feels. She shouldn’t feel this good. I know it’s a trap. Still, I’m willing to fall into it over and over again. Pulling all the way out, I slam into her again. I do this a couple of times, pulling myself out to the tip just to slam into her until my balls kiss her ass.
I can hear the humph sound leaving her lips with every stroke, but aside from that, she doesn’t say a single word. A triumphant smile lifts my lips. I want to make her scream and chant my name from the heavens while she begs me to let her come.
As hard as it is, I go slow, keeping my strokes hard and even. Sweat drips down my back, and I grit my teeth, feeling her pussy flutter around me.
“No, you don’t get to come yet,” I growl, slowing once more. I take us both on this never-ending rollercoaster of almost-there pleasure. Fucking her hard and fast before coming to a stop, just to do it all over again. Kennedy is panting, but she’s not begging yet.
Pistoning my hips faster, it doesn’t take much to get her to the edge all over again. When I feel that she’s just about to peak, I pull completely out.
“Jackson!” She sags against the mattress in defeat.
“I told you not to talk.” I smack her ass hard. She whimpers, but that whimper soon becomes a moan when I slide back into her warm channel. Her slick heat tugs me deeper and deeper, and soon I’m falling into the abyss, no longer able to tease either of us anymore.
“Beg for it,” I snarl as I fuck her like a savage, pressing her face into the mattress.
“Please, please…” Her sweet little voice reaches my ears, letting me know she is desperate for my cock.
“You want this cock, don’t you? Want it even though you hate the person it’s attached to.”
“Yes, yes! Please, Jackson, please…” Squeezing her hips tighter, I slam into her to the hilt and grind my hips against her ass. Like a rocket, she goes off, her pussy clamping down on me, sending me into a spiral of pleasure.
Roaring, I can’t stop myself as I erupt, filling her to the brim with my sticky seed. Falling forward, I crush her tiny body into the mattress, burying my face in her hair.
I don’t want to move. I feel so sated, intensely relaxed, but I can’t stay here with her. This isn’t that kind of thing. I’m not about to wrap her in my arms and whisper sweet nothings in her ear.
This is all a part of the plan.
Hurting her. Breaking her.
Rolling off of her and the bed, I pull my shorts back up and tuck my cock into them. Miraculously, I somehow find my shirt in the dark and tug it back on. Slipping into my shoes, I walk to the door, lingering there for a moment, my hand hesitating over the doorknob. Why do I feel the need to ask her if she’s okay? She came. I felt her pulse around me, so I know she got off. Shaking the feeling away, I open the bedroom door and leave her apartment.
Once outside, I head back to my place, feeling lighter than I have in days. Fucking Kennedy is the highlight of my day. It’s almost better than taunting her or fighting with her. When I finally get to my apartment and crawl into bed, sleep evades me, and thoughts of Kennedy fill all the space in my mind.
I hate her, but part of me cares for her at the same time, and that’s the problem. If only my hate for her outweighed every other emotion I felt, maybe then, I wouldn’t be second-guessing myself. Maybe I wouldn’t have stopped at the door, paused, and wondered if I should ask if she was okay.
She’s getting under my skin, and it’s time to squish those feelings because, in my heart, I know there is no room for someone so ugly.
16
Kennedy
I hate how he uses me. How he thinks he can just show up at my apartment for a quick fuck. Even more, I hate how I let him; hate how much I enjoy it. I don’t want to be that girl. Each time we’ve slept together, I’ve felt so dirty and ashamed. I’m so tired of feeling that way. I need to put an end to this before it’s too late. The question is, how? I’m not stupid, there is no saying no to Jackson.
Checking the time, I realize that I’m going to be late for class if I don’t start speed walking and stop daydreaming.
It’s time for my creative writing class, and even though I thought about skipping again, I decided against it. I don’t think I’ll be able to pass if I miss anymore.
The entire way, I was praying and hoping that he wouldn’t be there, but as soon as I walk in, I find him sitting in the chair behind my spot. Of course, he grins as soon as he sees me, like he’
s actually happy and not here to make my life a complete living hell. Taking my usual seat, I try my best to ignore him as I get out my books and papers. Even though I haven’t been attending classes, Mrs. Jarrid has been sending me the assignments via email.
“How is your cunt doing? Sore?” he leans forward in his seat and whispers into my ear, his breath moving the tiny hairs against my neck. “Or are you ready for more?” When I don’t answer or turn around, he continues his taunting. “I’m coming by later for more, just so you’re prepared. Make sure you’re nice and wet for me. You know, like normal.”
Stupid. I’m so stupid, instantly my core clenches around nothing, and excitement swirls around in my belly like a tiny tornado. I hate the reaction I have to him; hate how much power he holds over my body.
“Good morning, class,” Mrs. Jarrid greets everybody with a smile. “Please get out your books and turn to page two-hundred-and-forty-one.”
I do as instructed and push the stupid thoughts away, preparing to do some actual learning. Reaching into my bag, I pull out a pencil and then drop the bag to the floor.
“Maybe we can fuck with the lights on this time?” Jackson whispers from behind me, and though it is a whisper, it’s loud enough that the people beside us can hear every word he’s saying. Ignoring him is my best bet. If I don’t react, he has no ammunition.
“What, you don’t want everyone to know how badly you want to ride my dick? Is that why you aren’t responding? Are you ashamed?” He slashes me with another sentence, and I swear my cheeks heat to the temperature of the sun.
Why is he embarrassing both of us like this? Why can’t he shut his fucking mouth? Does every little thing have to be about hurting me, breaking me down a little bit more?
Mrs. Jarrid says something up front, but I can’t focus because all I can hear is Jackson panting against the back of my neck.