by C T Rhames
“It’s for your own good,” he told me, lips quirking.
“Nothing about you is for my good,” I responded.
“I feel differently.” He reached out a hand and trailed his finger down my face.
The familiar touch made me want to vomit and I jerked away from him. He watched me curiously as I battled tears that threatened to rise.
“See, you don’t want gentle,” he said at last, reaching out again. “You need the pain.”
I flinched and he grabbed my chin in an unforgiving grip. Instantly, the nausea was replaced with heat.
“Soon, you’ll tell me all your secrets,” Ethan promised. “And then I will flay you wide open.”
“You just want to hurt me,” I spat. “I’m not letting you do this to me.”
He ran a thumb over the scars on my arm. “I think you already do it to yourself. And I’ll make it so much more enjoyable.”
“This is not enjoyable,” I hissed at him, twisting away from his grip. “You’re sick and evil and just want me to hurt for your own disgusting pleasure.”
“And you want me to hurt you.” He gave me that crooked grin again and then leaned in close. “And I’m going to enjoy every second of it.”
Then he spun around and walked down the stairs. I watched from my bedroom window as he crossed to his car and got in. His blue eyes met mine once more before he pulled out of the driveway and headed back to parts unknown.
I curled up on my bed, my hand under the pillow where the kit had been for the past two years. My fingers closed on nothing and the tears that I’d fought so hard started to spill.
Chapter 8
“You’re going to enjoy this, baby, just relax.” His hands, his smooth hands that had never seen a day’s hard work in 35 years, ran gently over my skin.
“Stop, please stop,” I begged, crying.
“I can’t stop. You make me crazy for you. If you wanted me to stop, you shouldn’t have worn that bikini this afternoon, sweetheart.”
I shivered and pushed futilely against his pudgy mass, trying desperately to get away.
“I told you you’re going to like this. Just chill. Let me do all the work.” His hands dipped under my waistband and I felt myself tense and stop breathing. “Oh, yeah, that’s it, you’re so ready for me.”
“No, I’m not,” I squeaked. My voice vanished as he pressed into me, taking the one thing I had always been taught to protect with my life. But who knew I’d have to protect myself from the person who was supposed to care for and protect me?
“You feel so good.” His gasps above me cut through the mind block I was trying to erect. I tried so hard to think of something else, to drag my mind away from what my body was being forced into, from the sweaty body pressing into mine.
He stroked my cheek when he was done, ever so gently. “You’re such a good girl. Keep being a good girl and I won’t have to mention this to your mother.”
I jerked awake from the dream and stumbled to the bathroom, throwing up bile and coffee into the clean white toilet. Ethan’s gentle stroke of my cheek had triggered the nightmare, I knew. I really was broken, just as broken as he said I was.
“Cursi?” My father’s voice came through the bedroom door. “Are you okay in there?”
“I’m fine.”
Standing, I splashed water on my face, brushed my teeth and went out to join my father.
“I brought Chinese food with me on the way home,” he said, standing awkwardly on the landing. “But if you’re sick . . .”
“I’m fine. I’d love some Chinese.” I forced a smile and followed him downstairs, trying to shake off the dark remnants of the dream that was based entirely on memories.
The kitchen smelled of the coffee I’d made when Ethan was there, but we’d never had any. My father set out the Chinese food containers and I got out the plates, setting them and forks without saying a word. The silence was uncomfortable.
“So, how was your trip?” I asked finally.
My father looked up, eager to talk. “It went really well. I think I’ll have a new contract by next week for a whole apartment complex.”
“Nice, good job.” This time my smile wasn’t forced.
“Do you like sweet and sour pork?” He asked, popping open the last container and offering it to me.
“Yeah, thanks.” I scooped a couple of pieces onto my plate and then added a spoonful of rice.
My father seemed ravenous. He heaped his plate high and started to eat eagerly. “This place has the best Chinese food around. I always get it when I’m going through town after a long trip. And it makes great leftovers.”
“It’s good,” I told him.
Sitting at the kitchen table, watching him eat like a teenage boy, it felt a little more normal. I poked at my food and watched my father until he looked up suddenly, looking embarrassed.
“Sorry, I’m acting like a pig here. Help yourself to more.”
“I’m good.” I smiled at him. “It’s really good Chinese though.”
He smiled back, happy to share something with me. “I’m glad you like it. It’s kind of tradition for me . . . I like that we can have a tradition together.”
“Me, too.” I put a piece of pork in my mouth and felt the flavor explode on my tongue. I hadn’t eaten much apart from my daily yogurts in a while and this was flavor overload. I chewed the pork and forced myself to swallow it down.
“How was your weekend?” my father asked, finally slowing down on the food.
“It was good. I went down to the beach. It’s really pretty here.”
“It is, isn’t it? I keep meaning to fix this place up and make it worthy of the landscape, but . . .well, there wasn’t really much reason to stick around.”
“You don’t have a girlfriend or something?” I felt weird asking that, but surely a daughter could know if her dad had someone else?
He grinned wryly. “No. I don’t have a girlfriend. Or a boyfriend, if that’s what you’re thinking.”
“Oh.” I wondered how he’d spent so many years on his own like this. Surely he got lonely.
We sat in silence for a bit. Then my father looked at me and I saw my own eyes staring back at me.
“I was thinking, I mean, I don’t know . . .” he trailed off.
“What?”
“Well, I’m going to be working a lot and I won’t be home much.”
I nodded, my stomach clenching at the thought of spending even more time alone in this huge house.
“I’d feel better if you had a little protection.”
“Like a bodyguard?” I was confused.
“Like a dog. A guard dog that you could keep around and it would keep you safe.”
“Oh.” I thought about that for a minute. I’d never had any pets. Mom hadn’t been big on them and insisted I’d kill them. “I think that would be really nice, actually.”
“Great! Tomorrow after school, I’ll pick you up and we’ll go see a friend of mine. His dog had puppies and they’re about ready to go to a new home.”
“Sounds good.” I didn’t have to force the smile. A puppy could be a lot of fun. Maybe it would even chase my nightmares away. Probably not, but one could always hope.
I got up and cleared the table while my father carefully tucked the Chinese food containers closed, folding the flaps precisely. I could see his architect side coming out as he worked.
My father put the food in the fridge, raising an eyebrow. “Didn’t you go shopping? I thought I gave you enough to stock up.”
“Oh, yeah, I just ate pizza mostly,” I laughed. “You know how it is.”
“Okay.” He stood with the door open a bit longer. “You like bubbly water.”
“Yeah, I hope you don’t mind. Tap water just doesn’t do it for me.”
“Your mom was always like that,” he said softly. “She didn’t like flat water, as she called it.”
“Yeah, I think I picked it up from her,” I told him.
He smiled wanly and cl
osed the fridge. “I’ll take the dishes, you can go relax.”
“I’ll wash, you dry?” I suggested instead, surprising him. I guess he figured I didn’t want to spend any more time with him. Even I was surprised, but mostly, I just didn’t want to be alone with my thoughts anymore.
So we stood side by side at the sink. I washed each of the dishes and passed them to him. He dried and put away. It only took a few minutes, but for those few minutes, it felt like we really were father and daughter.
Chapter 9
I looked for Ethan as soon as I got to the school parking lot. He was there, as usual, waiting by the doors. He looked like he was just lounging, nodding greetings to the occasional person passing by, fist bumping the occasional guy. But I knew he was waiting for me.
Sure enough, when I walked up to him, he turned to me and studied me carefully. Then he nodded in satisfaction. “Good girl.”
Chills ran through me. “Don’t call me that!”
He frowned. “Why?”
“Because.” I lifted my chin, not willing to tell him all the gory details. “I hate it. And not in a good way.”
“So you’re saying you’re coming around to the pain part?” He grinned at me.
“No. But that name is a hard no.”
“Okay.” His easy acquiescence surprised me and I waited for him to say something to negate it.
Instead he grabbed my thigh, right where the last cut was, making me wince. I looked around at the students milling about. “Ethan. We’re in public!”
“I know.” His lips quirked. “Does that turn you on?”
“No. Stop it.”
“You didn’t cut again.” He didn’t ask. It was a statement. Like he’d proved himself right. Relieve me of my kit and I wouldn’t cut again.
“I didn’t need to.” I looked into those clear eyes.
“What makes you need to?” He sounded genuinely curious, but the bell rang and I stepped away from him and back into reality.
As I headed to class, I could feel him behind me, even though, when I looked back, he was further back than I thought. Finally, I ducked into my class and the door closed on the heat that stretched from him to my body.
The day dragged by. I couldn’t believe it, but I was actually excited about getting the puppy.
As soon as the last bell rang, I headed outside. My father wasn’t there yet, so I perched on the fence around the flower garden in front of the school and waited nervously.
“Waiting for me?” Ethan’s gravelly voice sounded beside me and I looked over to find him leaning against the fence.
“My dad.”
“Ah. He decided to get to know you.”
“No. We’re getting a puppy.” When I said the words, it sounded so pathetic. A puppy. Like a gift a father would give his toddler daughter. I felt my face flush red.
“What kind?” Ethan asked, apparently oblivious to my embarrassment.
“I have no idea.”
“You should get a German Shepherd. You’d like that breed and they’re very loyal.”
“Do you have dogs?” I asked, marveling at the fact we were having a normal conversation.
“No.” He looked out at the parking lot.
“There’s my dad.” I saw him pulling up and hopped off the fence.
“I’ll come meet your puppy tomorrow.” Ethan’s lips quirked.
I rolled my eyes. “Please don’t.”
“I promise.”
Leaving him behind, I climbed into my dad’s Range Rover.
“Hey.”
“Hey.” I smiled at him and glanced out the window. Ethan was watching us with those piercing eyes. He lifted a hand, just barely, but I knew he was promising he’d be at my house the next day.
The puppies were adorable little furballs and I wasn’t sure which one to choose. In the end, one chose me. The puppies were all tumbling over one another, yipping and nipping at each other when one that was a little to one side looked up at me and waddled over to lick my shoe.
“He likes you,” Mr. Jacks, my father’s friend, said.
I scooped the little pup up and looked into his warm brown eyes. “I like him, too.”
“Well, I guess that’s that.” My father grinned. “Thanks, Bob. I appreciate it.”
“No problem. You train that pup up right and he’ll always be a loyal friend and protector,” the man said, patting my puppy’s head. “You got a name for him?”
“Not yet.” I cuddled the warm creature in my arms and sniffed his little puppy head. “I’ll think of something.”
“We better get home. I have to work on some plans tonight,” my father said.
All the way home, the puppy snuggled in my lap, completely unperturbed that we’d taken him away from his family. I wished I was that complacent when my family was whisked away.
“We better stop and get this little guy some supplies,” my father said. He pulled into a pet store and we went inside to get some puppy chow and a leash and collar. “When you have a name, we’ll get him a tag, too.”
Before heading back to the house, we stopped to pick up burgers at a burger place my father said had the best burgers in the north. I just nodded and kept the puppy away from the mouthwatering smell in the bag, though he kept stretching his tiny neck toward it.
Back home, I set the puppy on the grass where he promptly did his business, then ran around sniffing everything before coming back to me and sitting by my feet.
“He’s already a well behaved little guy,” my father grinned. “You made a good choice.”
“I think so.” I leaned down and picked the puppy up and carried him into the house. My father followed with the food and bags of puppy supplies. While he unwrapped the burgers, I carefully set out food and water for the puppy and watched as he bumbled around the kitchen, curious about everything.
“Wash up and eat,” my father said to me and I finally left my new pet to sit at the table with him.
“These are good,” I said, taking a tiny bite of the burger. Sauce oozed out of the bun, making me wrinkle my nose when he wasn’t looking. Still, I made a good show of eating, but I dropped most of it on the floor for my puppy, who sat happily under my chair, snapping up the bits of burger that I dropped to him.
Halfway through the burger, I offered it to my father who had already finished his. “I’m full, do you want the rest?”
“Sure, I’ll finish that up.” He took it and scarfed it down while I carefully wiped my face with my napkin. This whole eating together thing wasn’t great for my stomach. Even with the few bites I’d managed, it felt too full and I tried to remember when I’d last eaten meat. It had been a while, that was for sure.
The puppy was content with the meat he’d munched down and now he curled up under the chair, sound asleep. I carried him outside to empty his belly and bladder, then took him up to my room where he slept soundly on a t-shirt beside my bed.
He was adorable and for once, I didn’t feel quite so lonely, thinking about my father leaving again in a few days. It was odd that just a little puppy like this could make me feel much safer and less alone.
True to his word, Ethan drove me home after school the next day and met the puppy. To my surprise, he was gentle with the little dog, scratching his chin and rolling a ball around on the ground for the puppy to play with.
“What?” He looked up at me.
“I’m just surprised you can be nice.”
“I can be very nice.”
He jumped up off the floor, leaving the puppy growling and gnawing on a rope and stalked toward me. “You think I haven’t been nice to you?”
“Hardly.”
“I could have taken you on that rock on the beach and fucked your brains out. You would have let me. That wouldn’t have been nice,” he breathed, bending until his forehead met mine.
“You choked me instead. That wasn’t nice, either.”
“You needed the wakeup call.”
“You bit me.”
“
You needed it.” He caught my wrist in his hand and squeezed until I yelped. “You need this.”
I watched in fascination as he lifted my arm and pushed my sleeve up. Then he sank his teeth into the scars. His eyes flashed up to mine and we stared at each other as he bit me deep enough to leave a mark, not deep enough to break the skin.
My breathing came faster and faster and his nostrils flared. He wasn’t biting anymore, but his mouth stayed on my arm, his tongue caressing my scars.
“Why do you like to hurt me?” I asked, as the pain slowly faded under his movements.
“Why do you like to be hurt?”
“I don’t.” I bit my lip and looked down at my arm, at the teeth marks embedded there.
Ethan caught my chin roughly and lifted it. “You do. I want to know why.”
“I don’t know.”
“Then I guess we’ll find out together.” He smiled and it was a genuine smile. It threw me off guard, but before I could recover, Ethan ran a rough thumb over the bite mark. “See you tomorrow.”
Chapter 10
This time, my father was away for a week. He apologized as before and left me a wad of money to buy food with. When I came home on Friday, he was gone and the fridge was stocked with food.
“Hey, puppy,” I picked up my dog and kissed his soft head and went out to sit and look over the ocean.
“Got a name yet?” Ethan asked, coming up behind me. With the sound of the ocean, I hadn’t even heard the roar of his engine.
His arms went around me from behind and I stiffened, the memory of another’s arms doing the same thing flooding my mind.
Then he pulled my hair to one side and bit into my neck, instantly washing away the nausea that was forming in my stomach and making me weak in the knees.
“Stop thinking about him,” he ordered.
“What?” I spun around, still clutching my puppy.
“Stop thinking about him when I touch you.” He glared at me. “When I put my hands on you, you think about me, not the asshole who hurt you.”
“How do you know there’s someone who hurt me?” I raised my chin defiantly. “Maybe I just don’t like being touched.”