Erotomaniac

by Jon Athan

  He whispered, “Don't do it, Emiko. I'll stop the stream and I'll teach you another lesson if I have to. Don't make me hurt you. Just enjoy the show.”

  Although she could not see, Emiko turned her cheek to Ethan and looked the other way. A million thoughts ran through her mind, but only one roared over the others: survive. Ethan leaned over Emiko's body and stared at the laptop as he continued to thrust. He smirked upon spotting the size of his audience: 1,024 viewers. He glanced at the comments.

  A viewer wrote: Wow, she is so beautiful. Amazing body.

  In Spanish, a user wrote: Eso llamo una buena chica.

  Another user wrote: She is gorgeous. Let her ride you, I wanna see her ass.

  Reading a few more comments out loud, Ethan said, “Gorgeous... She's beautiful... She has a great body... Please do more shows with her.”

  He grinned from ear-to-ear, satisfied with the positive feedback. The compliments were aimed at Emiko, but he took them for himself. Emiko was his lover after all. I have a beautiful wife, he thought, the whole world is jealous. The smile slowly vanished from his face, reversing into a frown. He narrowed his eyes and tilted his head – confused and offended.

  He whispered, “What the hell is this?”

  A user commented: This guy isn't fucking her right. Fucking idiot.

  Another user, a female member according to her profile, wrote: LOL he's so small! Is that his cock or pinky? (The message was followed by an emoji with tears of joy.)

  An anonymous viewer wrote: I could fuck your bitch better than you, bro.

  All of the negativity was aimed at Ethan, mocking his size and poor skill. He stared down at Emiko, then at his penis. He became flaccid due to the negative comments, shriveled up like a raisin – about that size, too. He indistinctly muttered to himself, struggling to contain his rage.

  Emiko was unaware of the situation. She rested on her back, waiting for the rape to end.

  Ethan crawled over Emiko's body and approached the laptop. He jabbed his finger at the webcam and barked, “Fuck you! Fuck all of you! We're giving you a show here! You should be grateful to be able to watch. These little five-cent donations are nothing. You hear me, you cheap, lonely bastards? You should pay us a hundred tokens just to watch! No, a thousand!”

  Ethan stopped his rant. He hoped he ended the trolling in the chat room through his powerful speech. Unfortunately, nothing could stop an anonymous troll. He only fed them, which only made them stronger.

  Another user commented: Just shut up and fuck her already. Or pay someone else to fuck her and watch from the corner.

  Teary-eyed, Ethan said, “That's what you want, but you won't get it. You wish you could have a woman like her, you wish you were me. You're all wrong, though. You wouldn't be able to love her right. You don't understand the... the process of making love. No, you can't have her...”

  Tears trickled from his eyes with each blink as he read the comments. The messages were toxic, filled with anonymous hatred. Although a few users offered sympathy, especially towards Emiko, most of the viewers hurled every possible insult at Ethan. He was attacked from every corner. His unusual rants only added fuel to the fire.

  Ethan closed the laptop, then he smashed the computer on the floor. A crunching sound echoed through the room. The plastic chipped and scattered across the basement. He swung the laptop at the floor again, which launched more of the plastic across the room. He repeatedly smashed the laptop on the floor.

  Between each hit, he said, “She... is... mine! I love her! And... and she loves me! You can't have her, damn it!”

  Out of breath, he tossed the obliterated laptop aside. He removed his mask, then he glanced over his shoulder and furrowed his brow. During his fit of rage, he didn't notice Emiko had crawled to the corner beside the laundry machine. She glanced every which way, like a drug addict suffering from a bad trip.

  Ethan grabbed Emiko's wrists, then he dragged her across the basement. He pulled her into the small room. Despite her resistance, he was able to secure the shackle on her ankle to chain her to the wall. He removed the ball gag from her mouth, then he yanked the hood off of her head.

  He gazed into her bloodshot eyes and said, “This was a bad idea. I'm sorry, but I... I just can't be around a whore like you – not now. I need some time to think.”

  He grabbed a set of keys from the floor near the doorway. Emiko watched as he unlocked the handcuffs around her wrists and ankles. He seemed calm, but she could feel the anger brewing inside of him. She couldn't muster the courage to challenge him, though.

  As Emiko crawled onto her bed, Ethan walked to the doorway and said, “I can't even look at you right now. I'll... I'll come bring you a fresh set of clothes after I clear my mind. You just... just stay here and think about everything you've done. Good night, Emiko. I... I still love you.”

  Ethan locked the door behind him, then he departed from the basement. Emiko wrapped the blanket around her body and stared at the door. She tried to stay silent so she wouldn't bother Ethan, but she wasn't strong enough. She snorted and wheezed as she broke down. She couldn't keep her facade afloat. The pain, emotional and physical, was insufferable.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Crawling Back

  Where could an unhinged child grow into a deranged adult? The suburban neighborhood was calm and welcoming. Children screamed and giggled as they played tag on the tree-lined street. A few teenagers strolled down the sidewalks, fiddling with their cell phones. A driver occasionally honked his horn, warning the wandering children. It was noon on a weekend, so the road was busier than usual.

  Ethan stood on the sidewalk, his hands on a white picket fence. He gazed at the beige two-story home in front of him – his childhood home. He was struck with a sense of overwhelming nostalgia. The memories, good and bad, brought tears to his eyes. He examined the kempt grass as he walked past the gate. The wood creaked as he strolled onto the porch.

  It was all so familiar.

  The young man took a deep breath as he stopped at the front door. He had not visited his home since he fell in love with Emiko. He needed a second to prepare himself. Tap, tap, tap – he knocked three times, then he sighed.

  “I'm coming, I'm coming,” a man's voice emerged from behind the door.

  Ethan extended his arms away from his body and nervously smiled as the door swung open – hello.

  John Miller, his father, stood in the doorway. John's curly hair was grizzled. His stubble was hoary, too. He wore a red wool sweatshirt, brown trousers, and brown dress shoes. His style was conservative, but he wasn't a stern man. The big grin on his face was genuine. He was happy to see his son.

  John enthusiastically said, “Ethan! Where have you been, buddy?”

  “Hey, dad. I've just been a little busy lately. I just came over to talk and, you know, I–”

  Ethan stopped as a young man approached the door – Corey Miller. Corey was Ethan's sixteen-year-old brother. Wearing black from head-to-toe, he was a moody teenager. He kept his distance from his family, especially when compared to Ethan's close relationship with his mother.

  Ethan waved at his brother and stuttered, “H–Hey...”

  “Hey, Corey,” John said as he patted the youngster's back. He glanced back at Ethan and said, “He was just leaving. He's got a date or something. You know, kid stuff.”

  “That's good,” Ethan responded. He turned his attention to Corey and stuttered, “H–How are you doing, man?”

  Corey sighed and shook his head. He wasn't interested in the small reunion. He casually squeezed past his father and his brother.

  As he strolled across the walkway, he shouted, “I'll be back at eleven! See ya, Ethan!”

  Ethan watched as his estranged brother walked down the sidewalk. He met up with a group of friends one house down. The group bickered and bantered as they walked away. At heart, the lonely author wished he could have had a normal life like Corey.

  Breaking his contemplation, John said, “Come in, Ethan. Let's
have a little talk.”

  As he followed his father into the living room, Ethan asked, “Is mom home?”

  “No. She's at the store, running errands or wasting my money on some crap. I don't know. She should be back any minute now, though. Take a seat.”

  John sat on a recliner, Ethan sat on a three-seat sofa. The pair were separated by a glass coffee table at the center of the room. The large flat-screen television didn't capture Ethan's attention, despite his interest in movies. Instead, he examined the family photographs clinging to the walls and sitting on the tables. The pictures depicted a younger version of himself with his baby brother. A few of the pictures showed a seemingly happy couple – John and Brooke. One photograph even depicted John with his cop friends. He was a crime scene cleaner for most of his life.

  The pictures allowed him to reminisce about the past. After weeks of uncertainty with Emiko, it felt good to be home.

  John asked, “So, what's on your mind?”

  “What's on my mind? Well, where do I start?”

  “Anywhere. You're here to talk, aren't you? I'm guessing it's something pretty serious if you came here without your mother asking you to come.”

  Ethan stared down at his reflection on the coffee table. He can read me like a book, he thought, there's no point in lying.

  He said, “You're right. I've been having problems with women lately. I mean, serious problems. It's not like high school or college. That's for messing around, for having fun. I can't seem to find the right one, dad. And, when I think I've found her, everything falls apart. I can't tell if it's because of me or her.”

  John smirked and responded, “Everyone can't be a ladies' man, Ethan. I guess you didn't inherit that from me.” He chuckled, then he said, “Don't beat yourself up over the things you've done. I think it's simple. It's the same issue a lot of you young people have nowadays: you're over-thinking this. You need to clear your mind and try to think clearly. Don't think about yesterday or tomorrow, just think about today. Believe me, you'll have many chances to find 'true love' in the future. If you're worried about marriage, don't. It means very little nowadays, okay?”

  “It means everything to me. Just 'cause it meant nothing to you and mom, that doesn't mean I'm ready to give up on it. I'm not like you and she's not like mom. It won't be the same. She won't have men walking in and out of her bedroom at night while her children watch. I won't fuck hookers all night, then fuck her like nothing ever happened. I won't... I won't...”

  John watched as Ethan rambled himself into a corner. His son clearly had more to say, but he couldn't muster the courage to berate his father. The past was shattered, distorted due to forgotten memories. Some secrets were better kept hidden.

  John leaned forward and said, “I'm sorry about what you went through as a kid. I never meant to hurt–”

  The sound of jingling keys disrupted the apology. The pair glanced over at the front door.

  The door swung open and Brooke entered the home, a reusable shopping bag in her arm. She wore a sundress, as she usually did, and her hair was tied in a neat bun. She closed the door with a swing of her hips.

  As she strutted across the living room, Brooke said, “Hey, baby. I didn't expect to see you crawling back here so soon. What's going on? You're not asking your father for money, are you?”

  “No, mom.”

  Brooke entered the neighboring kitchen through the archway. She sat her bag on the counter, placed a gallon of milk in the fridge, then she returned to the living room. She fell to the seat beside her son, then she caressed Ethan's hair.

  Brooke asked, “You hungry?”

  “No.”

  “Then what do you want?”

  “I... I came to talk.”

  “About what? You don't seem very talkative now. Am I interrupting something between you and your father? Is that it? Am I not good enough to be part of your conversation?”

  Elbows on his knees, Ethan leaned forward and dug his fingers into his hair. He was irked by his mother's rotten attitude, but he couldn't challenge her. She positioned herself as the matriarch of the family. He could only sulk and moan.

  Chiming-in, John said, “He was just talking about girls. That's all.” He muttered, “It's all he ever comes to talk about...”

  Wide-eyed, Brooke said, “Oh? Well, tell mommy about your problems. What's wrong, sweetie?”

  Ethan sighed, then he said, “It's a long story and I wouldn't want to bore anyone, so I'll just get to the good stuff. I met another woman – a better woman than Karen. I love her, I just don't know if she's 'right.' And, if she's not the one, I don't know what I'm going to do.”

  “Lock it down.”

  “Wha–What?”

  “You heard me: lock it down. If she's better than Karen, better than all of the other trash you've dated, you have to make sure she doesn't get away from you. Marry her, Ethan. You better not let this opportunity slip through your fingers. I'll be very angry with you if you do.”

  Ethan said, “I want to, mom, but it's just–”

  “What?” Brooke sternly asked.

  Ethan grimaced and sniffled, as if he were about to cry. Brooke shook her head and glared at her son, infuriated. John stared down at his lap and sighed, embarrassed. The dysfunctional family was burdened with issues, but they didn't confront them.

  Eyes brimming with tears, Ethan said, “I'm... I'm just scared she might be one of the 'bad' ones you used to tell me about. I can't tell anymore.”

  Brooke explained, “That's fine, Ethan. In fact, that's normal. It's nearly impossible to know which ones are good and which ones are bad these days. They hide behind fake personalities, excessive make-up, and ridiculous cosmetic surgery. Bimbos with bodies like ants... Christ. They'll tell you they're real, then they'll stab you in the back. Fortunately, there are some good ones out there and the gamble is worth it. Do you know why?” Ethan shook his head. Brooke continued, “Babies. Good or bad, they can all make babies. As soon as you give me grandchildren, legitimate grandchildren, you won't have to worry about anything.”

  Ethan gritted his teeth. He had to fight the urge to kick and scream. He visited his parents in search of reassurance. Instead, he found himself facing his mother's selfish goals while his father passively watched the discussion.

  Ethan said, “That's good for you, but what about me? How will I know if she's good? How will I know if I can truly love her and if she truly loves me?”

  “I told you: it doesn't matter.”

  “It does.”

  Brooke stared at her son with a deadpan expression. She huffed, then she simpered and shook her head – amused.

  With a smug smile on her face, she said, “Believe it or not, the only way to tell for sure is to get married. People show their true colors after they've tied the knot. They feel... comfortable, so they reveal themselves. That's the way society works. You don't find out who you actually love until you're already married. So, marry her. Keep her with you and don't let her get away.”

  Chiming-in, John said, “And, if she rejects you, she probably wasn't the right one to begin with.”

  “Reject?” Brooke repeated in an uncertain tone. She huffed and rolled her eyes, then she said, “Don't worry about that, Ethan. You don't have to accept rejection. If you want her, she is yours. You just have to fix the problem. If she 'rejects' you because you're too big, lose a few pounds; if she dislikes your style, try something new. Whatever you do: don't let her get away. You understand me, right?”

  If you want her, she is yours – the sentence stuck out to Ethan. The rest of his mother's advice was insignificant. He heard what he had to hear: justification for his actions. He felt guilty about his treatment of Emiko, he didn't know if his actions were justified. His conscience was dormant, so he used a distorted version of his mother's moral sense to lead him. If the woman said Emiko belonged to him, then he didn't have a problem keeping her by force.

  Ethan nodded in agreement and said, “You're right. She's mine and I'
m hers. We can work through anything as long as I'm leading her away from the darkness.” He smiled as he gazed into his mother's eyes. He said, “I'll think about everything you said. I think I know what I have to do, though. I have to keep her.”

  Brooke returned the smile and said, “Exactly, darling, exactly...” She caressed his cheek and said, “Your eyes are sparkling. Forget about her for a second. Forget about me, forget about your father... Think about yourself for a moment. Tell me: do you truly love her?”

  Again, Ethan stared down at his reflection on the coffee table. The answer was simple: yes. As he developed his one-sided relationship with Emiko, he spent most of his time thinking about her desires. Does she love me? Is she a succubus?–those questions dominated his thoughts for weeks. Succubus or human, mutual or not, he loved her.

  And that's all that mattered.

  Ethan said, “I love her with all of my heart.”

  Brooke ran her fingers through his hair and said, “Then that's all you need. It doesn't matter if she's a 'bad' one as long as you love her. You make sure she knows that, too. Girls like it when a man takes charge.”

  “I'll handle it.”

  “You better. I want grand-babies before I'm sixty years old. You might believe otherwise, but I'm not immortal.”

  Ethan sighed in disappointment. His mother was able to bolster his confidence while burdening his shoulders. As the first born son, it was his responsibility to bring her a child. At least, that was what he was told since he was a boy.

  Brooke said, “We'll come to your place this Sunday for a family dinner so we can finally meet this lover of yours... What did you say her name was?”

  “Emiko. Emiko Takahashi.”

  “Oh, a foreign woman. I'm sure you'll make beautiful babies with her. Until then, remember what we told you.”

  Ethan stood from his seat and said, “Okay. I'll see you in a few days, I guess. I love you.”

  “We love you, too,” Brooke responded.

  John waved and said, “Good luck, champ.”