He hated that Dawn did this to him. Made him consider killing one of his men simply for accepting dinner from her. Hated that just watching her touch herself made him harder than that C-pop star ever could.
He hated it, but as she worked the vibrator between her legs, he jerked his cock. And when she came, he did too, splattering his cum across the room’s fine carpet.
Even then, he couldn’t stop watching her. Not until she put the vibrator away and fell asleep.
There was no more resisting after that. After he returned to the States, he fell into a new routine, of sorts. In the mornings, he woke up and opened his iPad to go directly to the feed of her still sleeping. He only let himself watch her for a little while in the mornings—no more than thirty minutes. Getting to watch her for longer at night was his reward for making it through another successful business day.
She wasn’t nearly as disciplined as him, and her schedule varied wildly. Sometimes he found her drawing at the kitchen table when he got in around midnight. Sometimes she was sleeping. And about once or twice a week, he caught her with the large vibrator between her legs.
He preferred that, but it didn’t matter what she did. He jerked off to her just the same. Morning and night, he fucked his hand while watching her. It was a good way to release any sexual tension before going into his business day with a clear head. That was what he told himself.
Months passed in their strange little routine. But then something strange happened in late April.
Dawn had led an extremely frugal life since securing a job. Before he stopped allowing her to shop for her own groceries, she’d use her own funds to pay for whatever she decided to buy, including her bike. And even after Wayne started purchasing all of her groceries, she insisted on paying for everything else with funds from her own bank account. Her one last bastion of pride, he supposed.
Pride wasn’t something she was allowed to have. He’d take that away from her too. Perhaps for their second anniversary, he’d decree that she was no longer allowed to work at her sad little Lower South Providence daycare.
But he found something interesting as he was reading over that month’s banking statements, which include one for the account he’d had set up for her. Instead of accumulating more money in interest fees as her checking account often did, it was suddenly missing five figures.
He scrolled down until he found the source of the missing money. One payee had subtracted over $30,000. His entire body chilled over when he saw the name written in the Description section.
It was the Rhode Island Design School.
Part III
Secrets could only be kept for so long from an all-seeing monster like Victor.
13
DAWN
He’d surprised me on our first anniversary, but I didn’t let him for the second.
I took the day off of work. I also gathered all the drawing things scattered around the house and packed them away in the dorm boxes in the guest room so that he wouldn’t see them.
I had a feeling he was monitoring me some way (or ways) outside of the still nameless day guard. And I’d done everything I could think of not to let him know what I was planning.
I had used my daycare earnings to buy drawing supplies for practice. I’d also used my own money to purchase a state-of-the-art drawing tablet for animating and the software for doing so—along with a ton of paid online classes on how to actually use both.
The animation program at RhIDS had come a lot farther since the last time I applied. The number of applicants had risen to crazy heights, over a thousand people applying for 60 spots, which meant I’d only had about a 6% chance of being accepted into the program.
I’d read on a candid professor’s blog that, ironically, your chances of getting in were way better if RhIDS didn’t actually have to teach you the animation basics. If you could prove that you had a working knowledge of at least one suite of animation software, that would put you significantly ahead of your competition.
So I’d turned one of the slice-of-life comics that had nabbed me an acceptance letter the first time I got into RhIDS into an animated short. It took every spare minute I had. Like, each and every one of them. But as soon as I started the project, that weird engine-revving-in-the-background feeling that I should be doing something more with my life?
It faded away.
Which was good and bad. I’d finally found something that made me feel amazing and like I had a purpose. But the morning of May 26th lurked in the back of my mind. Because this was something I loved. Something Victor could and most likely would take away when he found out about it.
So I’d deleted my old email account and made a new one that wasn’t nearly as easy to guess the password to as BigBangFan2009. I’d also got into the habit of only emailing and researching how to get into RhIDS at the library—I’d read online that was a low-tech hack to dodge surveillance.
A few weeks after I was forced to go cold turkey from alcohol, I signed up for the morning shift to have more time to draw in the afternoons. And I only ever went to the library on my morning break when the day guard couldn’t take me. Luckily there was a library within walking distance of Young Souls.
So I’d done everything possible to keep both my application and my acceptance into RhIDS under wraps. Unfortunately, there was no way I could afford the tuition without using the money Victor had deposited into my bank account every month without fail.
I hadn’t touched that account in so long. There was a chance that he wouldn’t notice the subtraction. But it was a small one. And, there was no way I could permanently keep my plans a secret. I knew that.
Even if he didn’t notice the considerable deduction from my account, it wasn’t like I could bike to school. I wasn’t even allowed to buy my own groceries anymore. I’d have to ask the day guard to get dropped off at school instead of Young Souls. And then the gig would be up.
Secrets could only be kept for so long from an all-seeing monster like Victor.
But our anniversary was in May. So that gave me a whole summer afterward until I’d have to come clean. Until then, I could hold onto the joy of having a second chance to go to my dream school.
I also didn’t prepare the monster dinner for our second anniversary. In fact, he found me eating Cheesecake Factory takeout while standing up at the island counter when he walked into the kitchen.
That was how he arrived. No knock. Just an opening of the front door, and then he came striding into the kitchen. I wondered if he entered every room like he owned the place. Or just this one. Because he did.
I stared at him, the food halfway to my mouth.
“Finish eating,” he signed. “I’ll wait.”
A command, not an invitation. But I set the fork down and told him the truth, “That’s okay. I’m not hungry anymore.”
His face held its usual stony cast, but something sparked behind his black eyes, hot and angry.
“Do I disgust you?” he asked.
It was a trick question, and I knew… I knew I shouldn’t take the bait. But year two of our marriage already felt like year twenty, and I had to ask, “Isn’t that what you want? To shame and disgust me?”
His shoulders shook, and his lips lifted slightly. Almost a laugh. Almost a smile. But not quite.
“Do you care about what I want now, D-liar?”
Okay, so he’d chosen a new name sign for me. D-Liar obviously wasn’t the one I’d given him back in Japan.
I made myself not react. Don’t give him anything. Don’t show emotion. Otherwise, he wins.
So I changed the subject by untying my robe. I let it drop to the ground, revealing my naked body.
Thanks to that lapsed gym membership, I’d regained 20 of the forty pounds I’d lost. Maybe it would turn him off. But no, his eyes darkened at the sight of me.
And just like that, it was on.
There was no bare-knuckle pre-fight this time. But Anniversary #2 went much the same as Anniversary #1. Marathon sex, lots
of orgasms, and a roller coaster of intense shame and even more intense desire. Followed by a shower.
Relief was beginning to set in, along with the shame and guilt by the time we fell into bed. Yes, he completely turned me out again, but at least it would be over soon. He’d finally let me sleep, and I looked forward to him being gone when I woke up tomorrow morning, just like last time.
However, instead of switching off the light, Victor turned to face me in bed and signed, “You plan to start as a student at the Rhode Island Design School in the fall?”
I paused. A flightless bird who had been spotted by a predator.
He knew. He already knew. There would be no three-month reprieve.
I didn’t answer. I didn’t know how to answer. I wasn’t sure my voice would work, even if I could. Until that moment, I hadn’t realized how much I’d been looking forward to being able to hold on to my dream for the entire summer. He’d collapsed my world, crushed all of my hopes, with just one question.
But my silence was answer enough for him.
“Good idea,” he signed. “I was searching for other things to take away from you.”
Again, I didn’t answer. If I tried, I would cry. And I didn’t want to give Victor the satisfaction.
His lips twisted into a cruel smirk. Then he turned back over and switched off the bedside light.
I was right about him being gone when I woke up. However, it was impossible to feel relieved. His threat hung in the air long after he departed. I checked my student account every day after he left, every day of the summer. But my enrolled status never changed. And eventually, it was time for me to start my second first-year orientation.
That’s when I realized…this was another one of his monster games. He was waiting, just like he waited through dinner and all of my chatter that first anniversary. He’d waited, and then he’d taken everything away that had made my prison sentence bearable.
It was truly diabolical when you think about it. Letting me have something so that he could take it away whenever he wanted. If I didn’t hate him so very much, I would have been impressed at his total monster skills.
I started classes at RhIDS the following September. And I loved going to school this time around. Art school was the opposite of drudging out a degree in Biological Sciences at Mount Holyoke. Studying how to do something I loved was everything I thought it would be and more. Finally, I was allowed to throw myself into my art. I didn’t have to squeeze it into my hobby hours. I ate, drank, and slept animation. And unlike the younger students who grumbled about the 24/7 schedule, I was happy to give learning to animate well all my time and energy.
Finally attending RhIDS was a dream come true.
But the threat of Victor snatching my dream away from me continued to hang over my head. How would he do it, and when? Was there any way to fight it if he did? I loved going to school. I loved it so much….
Swick! Swick! Swick!
The memory of the underground garage dropped down every time I thought about escaping his tyranny. That was the sound the silenced gun had made as he shot that guy, again and again.
So I grounded myself in the present. I directed all of my emotions and all of my mental energy into art. That was the only option I had, the only thing I could do until May 25th.
He showed up early for our third anniversary.
I had just gotten into the shower and squirted some body wash into my loofah. And when I turned around, I found him on the other side of the glass door.
My heart…or perhaps it was my entire body trembled. He was there. Just there. Naked except for his tattoos. He had even more of them now. They were crawling down his left arm too. Symbols and mythical animals I couldn’t understand.
How had he come in here without me noticing? Maybe he really was a ghost or vampire. Honestly, that would explain a lot.
There was no conversation this time. Victor simply stepped into the shower, turned me around, pressed me into the stone wall, and plunged into me from behind.
I don’t know what was more surprising. Him falling on me like an animal, or the fact that I was ready. I had woken up with hard nipples and a pussy, clenching to be filled. My body had known what day it was even before the sleep cleared from my mind.
Victor’s strokes came in a wild frenzy behind me, desperate and unhinged. Maybe he only wanted to get his this time. I strangely liked that idea. Liked the thought of not coming. Of being allowed to maintain my distance and dignity for once.
But then his strokes slowed as if he was taking back control of himself. And me. He found my pussy with his hand and began rubbing on my clit in front while stroking into me deep from behind. Ruthlessly seeking out that first soul-crushing orgasm. Soon, I was shuddering underneath him, my dignity slipping down the drain along with the water.
We didn’t talk at all that anniversary, but we spent the entire day together. No food. Just sex. And there were three showers instead of the usual one.
Eventually, I passed out from sheer exhaustion. And when I woke up the next morning, he was gone.
I thought for sure he’d do something to stop me from attending RhIDS the next fall.
But a whole ‘nother school year passed by without a peep from him.
I had to reschedule a final that fell on my fourth anniversary, and I felt guilty because I had to construct a family emergency. The same thing went for the fifth anniversary in my junior year. And my senior year sixth anniversary.
But at least I graduated after that anniversary. I might have had zero pride, but I had a degree in something I loved.
I didn’t bother to look for a job like all of my classmates. There weren’t any good animation houses in Rhode Island, and I knew I couldn’t leave the state. So it was the total opposite of my senior year at Mount Holyoke.
Instead of going out into the real world, I spent the following year animating the project I eventually used to get me into RhIDS’s graduate Experimental Animation program. No more slice-of-life for me. This project was the beginning of a much more ambitious narrative about all the epic ancestral and world history that went into my father and mother meeting in Korea and falling in love.
I could only imagine what my mother would scream and hand sign if she knew about me using her and dad’s love origin story to get into grad school for a degree in experimental art. She still wasn’t talking to me.
I’d managed to buy a burner phone a couple of years ago when the day guard had stopped at a gas station on the way back from Young Souls. I’d slipped out of the car, telling him I needed tampons as I ran into the station’s store. Luckily, he hadn’t followed me.
I’d been calling Mom on that phone for every Mother’s Day and birthday ever since. But she never answered. These days, I only ever heard my mother’s voice saying one thing: “Hello! This is Gyeong Kingston. I’m sorry you missed me. Leave a message, and I promise to call you back.”
But she never kept her promise. At least, not to me.
“Aw, she’ll come around one of these days,” Byron assured me after I called to tell him I got into the MFA program at RhIDS. I’d also made a habit of talking to Byron during my visits to the library near my house. Out behind the building where the day guard couldn’t see me.
It often felt like a hostage exchange. I gave Byron information about me which he reported back to mom. And she gave him information about her that he reported back to me.
“She made some progress with dad,” Byron reported between Mother’s Day and my seventh anniversary. “She says they’ve been talking about him retiring. Maybe even moving back to the East Coast.”
With a pang, I thought of the last words she had written to me when I tried to email her on my new account. I can’t watch you throw your life away. Not after all of my hard work.
And how could I answer her? That my life was my own to live? Obviously, that wasn’t true. I was reminded of my ten-year sentence every time I looked down at my ring finger.
I also couldn’t tell
her the truth. That the only reason I’d deterred from the medical career path she laid out for me was because I was trying to keep her, Dad, and Byron safe from the enemy she didn’t know dad had made. That would scare her more than it would vindicate me.
So I accepted that she would never acknowledge the birthday gifts she received in the mail from me or even say “thank you” for the flowers I sent on Mother’s Day.
Dad did, though. He seemed to have taken my new career path in stride. He always acknowledged the birthday gift cards and the Father’s Day messages I sent him with short emails. Usually, a week or two after he received them. But still, it was always nice to get a “Thanks for the gift card, sweet pea” and a “Praying and hoping everything’s okay with you.”
I never answered those texts truthfully. Never told him that things weren’t okay with me.
That they hadn’t been okay since that morning when his hand bit into the upper flesh of my arm as he hissed at me that I couldn’t run after Victor.
At least Byron was still talking to me fairly regularly. After I told him about my experimental animation project, he teased me about becoming a hippie and insisted that I should make a cop show animation.
“There are enough cop dramas on TV,” I answered him. Plus, from what I’d gleaned from Byron’s life, being a cop wasn’t that interesting when you took out all the non-existent technology and abuses of power that were often glorified on TV.
Unlike my father, Byron had no interest in undercover work. He liked riding a desk between appearances as his department’s public-facing hard of hearing spokesperson. He also served as a statewide emergency ASL translator. And he’d been named to the New Jersey Police Officer LGBTQ+ Liaison Committee.
My little brother was all grown up now and absolutely living his truth. The only thing that would make me prouder of him is if he calmed down that constantly revolving door of men and women he called a love life.
Actually, if I were going to do a cop animation, it would probably be a settling-down romance featuring a charming lead like Byron.
Victor: Her Ruthless Owner: The VICTOR Trilogy Book 2 [50 Loving States, Rhode Island] (Ruthless Triad) Page 9