by Naomi Niles
“We’re worried.”
“I don’t care. If something happens, it happens. There’s no point sitting around waiting for things to go wrong.”
“I don’t want to leave.”
“Well, you have to. You should go talk to your brother, anyway.”
“You’re probably right, but I need you guys to call me if anything happens.”
“Gillian, if I die, you’ll know.”
I laughed and stood up to give her a hug. “Be careful.”
“I’ll be fine. Go talk to him.” She waved me out of the room. I found Michael standing next to the vending machine, trying to feed it a mangled dollar. It just kept coming back out. He kicked it. “Ah!”
“Will you just stop?”
“I’m sorry.” He let his head fall and stared at the tile.
“Are you?”
“Yes. I know I’m a complete prick, and Mom’s right. I should just be happy that you’re happy, and you’re right. He’s a good guy; you could do a lot worse.”
“But you still don’t like it.”
“I’ll get over it.”
“Will you take me home? Mom’s kicking us all out.”
“Yeah, come on.” He led me back to his car.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Dwayne
I stared straight ahead, trying to keep my focus on the freeway, but the sun was reflecting off the road creating a mirage and the sand was starting to become more real than the road. I put on my blinker and pulled into a fast food restaurant parking lot, barely aware of what I was doing.
My breath caught in my throat. Click, click, click, click.
An inhale became an exhale, an exhale became an inhale. Then the two melded, and I lost control of my breath entirely. I doubled forward. Click, click, click, click.
That sound — was it an IED? I jumped and looked around. I was standing in the middle of a dirt road with two mud brick walls on either side, watching a little girl covered from head to toe in a baby blue burka. She was walking towards me, carrying a bucket of well water.
“Stop!” I screamed.
She looked at me, stopped, then inched forward.
“Stop!” I screamed in Arabic, but she wouldn’t listen. She just kept walking towards me, humming softly.
“Hurry, move!” I screamed in Arabic. I wanted to run to her and push her aside, but I couldn’t. Time stopped when she took another step forward. For one sweet second, she had a chance at life, then it was gone with resounding crack that blew her to pieces. The Taliban buried IEDs on the road, and I was there to stop people from stepping on them.
Nothing was left of her except for a blood-stained burka and her head, rolling down the hill towards my feet. I tried to stop myself. I told myself that it wasn’t real. I was in the parking lot of a fast food store, not an Afghani village. It wasn’t real.
Click, click, click, click. I was a bomb ready to explode — and there was nothing that could stop it.
I ducked down, screaming, begging myself to turn away, but I didn’t. Instead, I lifted the burka, and looked down at the girl, but this time it wasn’t the girl. It was Gillian.
Click, click, click, click. “AHH!” I roared and slammed my hand down to turn off the blinker.
I closed my eyes. Breathe. Breathe.
My breath came eventually, and my heart settled down, but I still wasn’t comfortable. I didn’t want Gillian to be there alone. I needed to be by her side, comforting her and telling her that everything would be okay. But it wasn’t my place, and I had to accept that.
The world faded in and out the rest of the drive home, and it didn’t stop when I got inside. I needed a distraction, but I couldn’t sit still. I’d slip back into that world. I decided to go into the kitchen and make myself something to eat, hoping that the task of cooking would make it easier for me to deal with what was happening.
I had a bag of roma tomatoes and some fresh basil I had to use, so I cut the tomatoes in half, cleaned out inside, and drizzled olive oil, Italian seasoning, and sea salt over them, then stuffed them in the oven to roast while I sautéed mushrooms, garlic, onions, celery, and carrots.
The tomatoes bloomed quickly, sending out the sickeningly sweet scent of marinara throughout the house. When they finished, I stuck the mixture in the blender, added a dash of red wine vinegar, and stuck the mixture on to simmer with a pair of Italian sausages.
I moved through the task mindlessly, as if I’d been doing it every day for years. My mind was still racing when the sauce finished and I put the noodles on to boil. I stood over the pot, watching as the bubbles sprang up, rising above the surface of the water. I could feel the heat, growing hotter and hotter. I was going to lose my mind.
There was a knock on the door. I rushed over to answer it. Gillian was standing outside with her arms folded. “Can I come in?”
“Of course.” I stepped aside.
She walked in. “It smells amazing in here.”
“Thanks. Is your mom okay?”
“I think so. I talked to Michael. He drove me home.” She walked into the kitchen and took a look at the sauce.
“What’d he say?”
“I honestly think he’s excited. At first, he was pissed, but my mom and I sat him down and talked to him; he started to come around. Now he’s talking about how happy he is for me.”
“That’s so good to hear. Are you hungry?”
“I’m starving.”
“You’re in for a treat.” I piled noodles onto her plate, spooned some sauce over it, and cut up a sausage to add on top.
“It looks amazing.” Gillian took a bite as soon as I set it down.
“I have some wine, if you’d like some.”
“Sure.” She took another bite of sausage. “Oh,” she groaned. “This is so good.”
“I’m glad you like it.” I poured her some wine and made myself a plate so I could sit down.
“I’m just glad that I could come see you after what’d happened. I knew you’d be worried.”
“I’m alright,” I said and went back to my food.
“You don’t have to play it off. You’ve done so much for me. I’m lucky to have you.”
“I keep thinking that you’ll disappear, that I’ll wake up from a dream.”
“I’m real, and I can prove it.” She finished the last of her noodles.
“Oh, yeah?” I grabbed our plates and took them to the sink to start washing them.
She came up behind me and rested her head on my shoulder. “Yeah,” she whispered as she reached out to put her hands down my pants. I dropped the sponge I was using when her fingers grazed the head of my cock.
I whipped around and grabbed her up off her feet. “Come on.”
Chapter Thirty
Gillian
Dwayne carried me into the bedroom, where he laid me down and fell down on top of me, the full force of his massive body pressing against mine as he proceeded to devour my lips, my neck, behind my ears. Every touch was another bead of warmth, creating an amber glow, like a haze of opiates that compounded when his hands reached up under my shirt, behind my back. He pulled me up and whipped my bra off, then threw my shirt onto the ground with it.
He transformed into a monster. With a snarl, he dove down, his hands roaming down my stomach. The amber glow had become a sizzling fire storm that rushed down my body, spreading over my chest, my arms, into the tips of my fingers, and my stomach, where it settled.
His cock was grinding against my legs, pressing through his jeans and rubbing up against my thigh. It was rock hard, as ready as I was, but this wasn’t about the race. He moved to my other breast, giving it the same loving care he gave to the first, then back to my lips.
His hand grazed my belt loop and locked on. He sat up, threw off his shirt, and pulled back. His cock pulled down my leg. “Let’s get rid of this,” he said as he unbuttoned my pants and slid them down. Goosebumps were popping up over my skin from the cold air, but he was warm and solid, spreading my legs
now, so he could fall down on top of me. He was grinding his cock against my clit through his jeans while he worshipped me with his lips.
The firestorm became a raging blast, fueled by the feeling of his cock pressing deeper. He hadn’t even taken his pants off, and I was already overwhelmed with it. He traced his finger down my chest, over my stomach, and rubbed my clit slowly while he watched my reaction. “I’ll never get over that face you make.”
I pulled his head down and kissed him while he slid my panties down my legs. It was so smooth, I barely noticed what he was doing until he rose up and pulled down his pants. He moved his hand over his shaft, letting the skin pull over his head.
“You look so sexy, watching me like that.”
“I’ve got a pretty nice view myself.”
“Yeah?”
He was rubbing my clit now, his hand still stroking his cock while he stood over me, watching my reaction. He bared his teeth and dove his finger through me, hitting the spot instantly. A spark flew through me. I felt a wave pounding down over my body, a soft shudder at first, then a quick burst and finally a waterfall that washed over me.
He was watching the entire time, stroking himself until he couldn’t take it any longer. He grabbed me by the ankles and pushed his cock past my lips, into my body. My head shot back, and I let out a soft cry.
“You’re so tight.” He drove in deeper, hit my spot, and went into a frenzy, pounding, slipping in and out, faster now. I pushed into him, my body begging for more. He obliged happily and drilled through so deep I could feel his balls.
He lost control, in and out, in and out, and the sound of his body slamming against mine fueled the fire that was raging inside. This was molten metal, pure passion, a volcano growing larger and larger. When this beast exploded, there would be nothing left of me, but that sensation, the sweet burn. I knew it was coming. I could feel the pressure rising.
He was grunting, moving so fast I couldn’t keep track. I could see the strain of his face and smell the sweat pouring down his chest. There was no denying that he was facing the same monstrous beast I was, and he was rushing headlong into it, carrying me with him.
I couldn’t take it. “Ah!” The pressure was building, and I was going to explode.
“Ooh,” his long drawl was the catalyst. He collapsed on top of me, his lips against mine as the fire spread, so fast I couldn’t stop it. The explosion drove my head back against the pillow. The rush was a force so compelling that, as it spread throughout my body, seemed to destroy everything it touched, leaving behind nothing but raw pleasure and the sense that I was watching the fire rage through him.
His lips were fueling it, dragging it down, rubbing it in. It didn’t go away, not at first. It just rolled through, over and over, until he fell down beside me and pulled me in so that my head was resting against his chest where it belonged.
“We won’t get to do this again for a while,” he said.
“What do you mean?” I pulled back to look at him, confused.
“I’m going to be working nights now, and you work during the day. We won’t get to see each other.”
“You’ll find a way, though, won’t you?”
“I’ll do everything I can.”
I sighed and laid back to look up at the ceiling. “I’m gonna miss sleeping next to you.”
“It won’t be for long.”
“Are you sure that it’s safe for you to be going there?”
Dwayne turned to face me. “When I first arrived in Afghanistan, they took us into a village near the southern border. It was like stepping thousands of years back in time. There was no electricity, no running water, no phones.
“The people wore the same rags that their parents had worn when they were children, and their parents wore before that. The women weren’t allowed to go outside, and they couldn’t show their bodies to anyone, so they covered themselves in dirty, sweat-stained burkas that smelled like they hadn’t washed in years. The men were no better. They didn’t shower or shave. In fact, I think shaving was banned.
“Anyways, they took us to the local police office, where we were supposed to make camp for the night. It was surreal. The police were three boys, no older than fifteen, each with fully automatic weapons that they propped up against the ruined, mud brick walls of the tiny square building they called a police station.” He paused for a moment, lost in the memory.
“Things went well. The boys were nice. They smoked a lot of opium, so they didn’t give us any trouble, and we rested. We built a fire in the center of the room and roasted hot dogs and laughed. Late that night, one of the other soldiers went out to take a leak, and suddenly, we heard gunshots all around us, coming from all sides.
“I ran to get my gun and saw one of the boys fall over with a bullet in his head. I rushed outside, grabbed a grenade, and threw it in the direction of the gunfire, then dove back into the police station to get away from the blast. When I came out, the guy who went out to pee was leaning against a wall, crying his eyes out. He was covered in blood spray.
“That was my life for ten years.”
“How do you deal with that?”
He turned away from me and stared up at the ceiling, then snapped his eyes shut with a sharp intake of breath.
“You don’t, do you? Do you still see it, Dwayne?”
He pressed his lips together.
“Dwayne…”
“I don’t see it when I’m with you.”
“I’m so sorry.”
“They say it’ll go away with time, and it’s not that bad.”
“You get flashbacks?”
“What I’m trying to say is that I’ve been at war for ten years, and the men I’ve fought were no better than animals. They were so desperate, they’d have blown up their own families just to kill us. One punk with a knife isn’t going to stop me.”
“Life has a way of getting to you like that. It’s ironic the way things work. It’d be just like the fates to throw you under the bus now that you’re happy.”
He laughed. “Those old hags can’t hurt me.”
“I’m going to ask you again, and I need you to promise this time because last time you didn’t. You dodged me.”
“What?”
“Don’t jump in front of any bullets, Dwayne. If there’s danger, do what they ask or run. I don’t want to lose you.”
“I promise.”
“You better not go back on that.”
“No,” he kissed me. “You’re right. It’s not just about me, is it?”
“No, it isn’t.” I rested my head on his shoulder where it belonged. “What’s it like?”
“What’s what like?”
“A flashback.”
“The world fades, and I forget where I am. I see the sands and relive the things I’ve done. It’s gruesome and painful, and I can’t control it.”
“What do you see?”
“Pain, torture, desperation — things so sick I couldn’t even talk about them. Most of us go through it. We just don’t talk about it. If we do, they discharge us. But you changed all that. You bring me back.”
“Is that why you were so stiff before?”
“Maybe. It happens more when I’m anxious.”
“Then I’ll do everything I can to relax you.” I pecked him on the cheek.
Chapter Thirty-One
Dwayne
I woke up the next morning to an empty bed and a house filled with the smell of lilacs. She was everywhere — in the sheets, the air, the walls, soaked into the carpet. The smell dug into my nostrils and didn’t leave, even when I left that night to go to work. I watched the cameras all night, determined to rush out at any sign of movement, but nobody came.
The next night, the smell was starting to fade, and I was tired from staying up all night. But I didn’t give up. I kept a coffee by my side at all times and rarely looked away from the cameras. I skipped lunch and worked through my breaks, hoping to find something, but I didn’t.
The nights we
re starting to melt together into one long caffeine-fueled ordeal. I drank so much coffee that my hands were starting to tremble and the world faded into a soft haze, somewhere between the sands of the Afghani desert and my tiny office.
I lost track of time, focused only on finding the prick that thought he could come into my domain. I started to think of the building as my own. I guarded the databases in the basement and watched over the parking lots like a lion protecting his land.
When I wasn’t sleeping or working, I kept my phone close. Gillian would text in short bursts, asking how things were going and wondering when she could see me. It broke my heart that our schedules conflicted so much, but there was nothing I could do. I had to find this man. My job was dependent on it.
It must’ve been at least five days in when I got to work and found the office manager, Julie, standing outside the back door with a thin cigarette pressed between her blood red lips. “I need progress,” she said when I walked up. “You still haven’t found the people that are doing this, and the tenants are starting to get worried. What is taking so long?”
She was the kind of woman that lashed out if she wasn’t respected. She wanted me to say yes ma’am and be submissive, but I wasn’t going to give her that satisfaction. “They haven’t come yet, and I don’t have super powers.”
“If you can’t do it, I can find somebody who will.”
“If you’re that dumb, then you have no place being in a position of power. Nobody’s going to pull this guy out of their ass. I’ve come at this from every angle. All we can do is wait.”
She threw her cigarette down and ground it against the pavement with her heel. “I fucking hate that you’re right.”
“It sounds like you just have to find a way to relay the argument to whoever’s coming down on you.”
“Bankers think money can solve everything. It’s all they care about. I’m not going to convince them of anything. Just stay awake. If you fall asleep, I’ll cut off your cock and feed it to you raw, you got that?”
“You’re underestimating me.”
“Good.” She lit another cigarette and walked off.