by Marcia DM
I snap out of it. “I was just listening to the music.” That’s a lie, even though ‘Fearless Boogie’ is playing, I didn’t hear it until I said that.
“Right. Listen, did you sleep okay?” He’s looking at me with a sly smile.
“Oh!... Yeah… I’m sorry, I just…” I point over my shoulder.
“There’s nothing to be sorry for. I don’t mind if you feel the need to spy on me every now and then. I know I deserve it.” He chuckles.
I frown. “Spy on you? No! I just heard some strange noises and I wanted to see what it was.”
“Did ZZ Top wake you up? Or did I?”
“No… I had a nightmare… And then I heard…” What’s wrong with me? I can’t even think straight right now.
“A nightmare?” He interjects. “Was I in it?” He frowns, he seems pissed. Damn, this is a bad sign.
“Not at all.” Another lie, and he can clearly see through it. He doesn’t even try to conceal his disappointment towards me but doesn’t say anything about it. It’s like an unspoken thing. It’s better this way.
“Do you want to have some breakfast?” Why am I so nervous? Maybe I just didn’t get over the dream yet, it’s still fresh. The feeling of his soft skin touching mine still electrifies me. He’s so close to me that my body gets pulled towards his like a magnet. We are a few inches apart but close enough for me to feel his warmth. This is affecting me more than I would have guessed. “It’s okay, you can ask,” he says while drying his hands with the towel. I can see a hint of a smile on his face.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I’m trying not to look at his chest, or arms, or abs or anything! But I check him out anyway and when I do he finds my eyes. I feel like I’m going to be slain by the intensity of those light green eyes. Of course, I know what he means, and I also know that there is no escaping this. So, I cut to the chase. “Who did this to you?” I move my right hand fully open, palm first, towards his chest. This is a mistake. I stop before I can touch him. I close my hand in the air and take it back. He looks tense. I guess that makes two of us. His lips are pressed together and form a thin line. He swallows, slow and hard. His Adam’s apple moves up and down. I hear his muscles moving. He promptly steps closer to me, looking forward. He’s decided to kiss me. I’m decided to kiss him, or at least I want to… He takes another step.
Wait a minute.
He’s not stopping. He goes by me and grabs his water bottle, which is behind me. He steps back and sips from it a few times. Then, it hits me:
The mission where you were involved overcame every textbook, practice or experience I had in the past and made me feel like a rookie again.
I suffered when you did.
I’m feeling nauseous.
Lightheaded.
I’m about to throw up. I’m terrified.
“I told you, didn’t I…?” He says the minute he realizes how terrified I am. “I’ve suffered with you; we’ve suffered together.”
This is bad, this is very bad… HE’S FUCKING CRAZY.
I take a few steps away from him. He… did this to himself.
“Why would you do something like that!? Are you out of your mind!?” He puts the water bottle down and, like a feral animal ready to battle, he lunges at me. In a split second and with a single step he manages to be right in front of me again. He’s so close that I can feel his breath hitting my face.
“We deal with pain differently. This is the way that suited me best. This is the result of my way. You asked, ‘How did I manage to torture you?’ Here’s your answer.” He takes one step back, arms to his side, palms open facing up, and spins in front of me, so that I can really see the scars. “This is my atonement process and I can do with it as I please.” Atonement? As in to be in harmony? With me!? He is seriously fucking nuts. Before I can say any of these things I’m thinking, he continues, “Or would you rather have me repress every feeling inside of me?” He points right at my face. “You know what you need, and yet you go against it.”
“Excuse me? I’m not gonna say that this is okay. This is fucking unreal. There’s no way I can ever relate to this kind of shit.”
“Oh, really? Your body is telling you everything you need and you ignore it! Do you think I can’t tell?” What is he talking about? “So, don’t think you can fucking judge me, Sarah.” With my name still echoing in the room, his gaze went from my feet to my head, and I think I know what he means now.
He pushes the door open, slamming it on the wall, and stomps away.
“Oh, no. This isn’t fucking over.” I chase him looking to continue the argument.
“The hell is not.”
“How could you say that? You are my fucking pain! You are the one who created this new level of suffering! Do you think that doing that to yourself will somehow fix what you broke? Think fucking again.” My voice roars through the hallway and it’s still not enough for him to stop. He doesn’t turn; his fists are so tight, his knuckles are white; his breathing is heavy, making his back increase in size with every ounce of air he breathes in.
“I’m taking a shower. Unless you wanna share it, I suggest you stop following me. After I’m done, I’ll make breakfast.” He storms inside the bathroom and slams the door shut.
This motherfucker.
Of course, there’s no fucking way I’m going in there— that’s what he wants me to do. Or is it what I desire, deep down? I make my way back to the living room and plunge in the couch. I’m trying to hold my shit together. My heart is beating faster than the wheels of a speeding train. I’m confused.
I feel…
Pain.
Fear.
Tension.
Some of these feelings collide with their counterparts. I want him to stay away from me, but at the same time I want him close, very close.
Damn.
I just realized something… I’m feeling again, literally. This son of a bitch told me I’d feel again. I didn’t believe him but somehow, he was right. Even if he’s the one triggering these emotions, emotions that are in disarray. Is this love? Is this hatred? If this is love, why does it hurt so much? Maybe it’s plain hurt. No, there’s something else here that goes up and down, up and down, faster and faster. What is it!? I want to hate him, but I can’t. Somehow, it doesn’t feel right.
FUUUCK!
At this point, I’m madder at myself than him. I can’t figure out why in the world I’m so upset. Maybe it’s because he inflicted those wounds on himself to try to level the playground, which makes him a fucking lunatic. Maybe it’s the fact that now we have something else in common— the scars that seem to match the pain inflicted by the same person. And, whether I like it or not, we’re both bound together because of it. What am I doing here? Am I trying to rationalize this to somehow make it sound ‘okay’? That makes me a lunatic as well!
I need some air.
I’m heading out.
I stand up and dash towards the door. I grab the knob, twist it right, pull the door open. It opens just a couple of inches, the wind comes in and hits my face, but an invisible force prevents the door from being completely open.
The invisible force is him.
“Don’t go, stay with me,” he says while standing behind me.
“What for?” I don’t want to hear the answer to that one.
“I need you…” He’s leaning forward, his right arm extended and his hand on the door, closing it slowly. Once again, he’s standing between me and freedom.
God dammit, he’s so close. Fear sends shivers down my spine. He exudes power, and I can feel it. It’s overwhelming, and my stupid mind can’t bear it. I succumb to him once again.
“You need me? What for?” I turn around and see him wearing only a towel at waist level, being held in place by his left hand. His chest is crowded by water droplets on top of his scars; more water running down his face, coming down from his forehead. I want to wipe those off, but I keep my hands to myself.
“I think you know the answe
r to that one. So please, please, don’t go.” His voice turns to a barely audible whisper.
“No, I don’t know. So, tell me,” I’m begging with tears in my eyes. We’re so close that I can see him looking at my lips. He wants them badly. He licks his own lips. Both our mouths are slightly open. We are quietly gasping for air.
“Are you ready to hear me say it?” I nod with caution. What am I doing? His arm jails me between him and the door. Slowly and with some caution he closes the gap between us. Before I know it, I put my hands on his chest. I need to have some control over this situation. I want him close like this and even more, but on my terms.
He takes my gesture as a sign of rejection and starts to back out with some regret on his face. It only takes three steps for me to start missing his warmth; the distance between us feels endless. He turns around and walks back to the bathroom, leaving me all by myself in this sea of uncertainty.
I walk to my room and lock myself in it.
The rest of the day goes by uneventful, silent and dull. Giving me, or should I say us, a lot of time to think about what happened. I don’t dare come out of the room.
I know, I’m a coward.
I can hear Bruno moving around the kitchen area— he’s getting ready to start dinner, or should I say, ‘open the fridge to check the contents and then come and ask me if I’d like anything from there.’ But for some reason, not today; he’s not coming to ask. His reason is probably the same as mine.
I find myself asking the same question, over and over: What could his answer be?
A flash of light enters through the bedroom window and bounces off every wall, lighting it whole. Then, I start hearing one… no, two… thousands of rain drops. The storm takes both me and the house by surprise. This rainstorm is perfect. I always thought that the human being doesn’t fully appreciate the beauty of it. I stand up and leave the bed behind to go to the window. The view is incredible and even with this full-on storm, only a few drops are running down the glass.
When I was a kid, my dad and I used to bet which of the drops would reach the bottom of the glass first. I could never choose the right one. Another lightning lights up the place, and I see my reflection on the glass. But that’s not the only thing I see— a dark silhouette stands behind me. It’s Bruno, he’s watching me like a predator; only this time I’m not afraid, I actually want him to watch.
“There’s gonna be a funeral service,” he says quietly. “I thought maybe you’d wanna go.”
I look up. I can’t see his eyes in the reflection, but I don’t have to— I know there’s regret in them.
“I’d like to go.”
“Okay. But first, you gotta commit to my terms,” he claims. “You cannot, and I repeat, CANNOT, show up as Cassandra under any circumstances. That means that you don’t get to take part in any of it like a family member. You’ll keep a reasonable distance and where I know I can keep you safe. If Leon is looking to hurt us, he’s probably gonna try at the cemetery.” I nod. His tone compels me to obey. A third flash with its thunder makes my body jump on the spot. Even though he got the answer he wanted, he’s still standing behind me in silence. But my gaze is not on him. I’m looking beyond the reflection on the glass. My eyes lie upon the backyard, watching the leaves move in a spiral under the angry wind, the grass soaking under a dark night.
But he’s still here.
He clears his throat.
“I, uh… I think I’m not good at these things, Sarah…” he confesses shamefully. “I just… need you to tell me what to do,” he begs…
What is it with this guy? His begging tone is completely different from his bossy one. And yet, it compels me just the same. I don’t reply, or shake my head to answer his call for help.
He grazes my shoulder, as if he expects me to remove it or at least to move away from it, but I don’t. I’m wearing a tank top and I already know I might be showing more skin than I should, but feeling his touch is priceless. He starts to caress me by moving his thumb, just a little, slowly and steadily, until he reaches my shoulder scars. He’s using his palms now to navigate through them, analyzing them, as if this were the first time he sees them.
I’m not moving yet.
I close my eyes because I don’t want to see what he’s going to do, I just want to feel it all. Plus, seeing my reflection on the glass makes me blush.
He steps forward to get closer.
He dares to kiss my back, working his way up from my shoulder blade. His lips are warm and gentle over my skin. He keeps kissing, only to make me realize I was wrong— he’s not kissing my back, but my scars, one by one, like somehow he’s trying to heal them. I finally open my eyes and find him on the reflection, still kissing me softly but watching me. His eyes are asking the question, ‘Should I stop?’
I say nothing. Instead, I answer with another question by closing my eyes, tilting my head back and to the right, exposing my neck: ‘What do you think?’
He acknowledges fast, pulling the tank top strap to the side and kissing from the shoulder towards my neck. Adrenaline shoots through my body.
I’m feeling hot and worried, happy and fearful. I don’t know what I’m doing or why I’m doing it.
“Push him away! Now!” Life yells. She has a front seat in this rollercoaster, and she doesn’t like it.
No, stay out of this.
He kisses the back of my ear and crouches.
He kneels behind me.
His hands lift my tank top, revealing my lower back. His lips are close to my skin, I can feel his breath against it. He’s having a closer look at that area, and the anticipation is killing me. He kisses once and waits, confusing me in the process. At first, I hated that, but now I’m loving it.
I’m slowly losing myself in him.
Like I always knew it would happen.
His hands are grabbing my waist firmly. The intensity of the grip triggers a jolt of electricity and demands a moan that almost escapes my throat. But I manage to suppress it just in time. He stands up and slides his hands from my waist to my ribs. The previously lifted tank top meets his wrists and without stopping his motion, he starts to pull it up. At first, I thought I wanted him to stop, but my body reacts faster and my arms rise above my head to help him remove that piece of clothing. I blame his fingers and the touch that come with them; they made me do this.
Should I give in and stop worrying?
“Are you out of your fucking little mind?” Life says with a furious face.
No, I’m not. And my mind is not little— you live in it.
“Okay. Alright. Just don’t come knocking for advice later, I warned you.”
The top is completely off. He throws it away and immediately spins me around so I can face him.
Oh, God, he’s so damn tall.
My eyes are fixed on his chest. This is good; I’m too embarrassed to look him in the eye. He grabs my chin and pushes my head back to look straight into my eyes. There’s some hesitation in his.
“Don’t you dare ask me if I’m ready,” I whisper.
He lets an audible sigh out and kisses my lips. The moment our lips meet, I lose the ability to control myself. I feel as if a million feathers are tickling my entire body, only this time it’s not torture, but pleasure. The kiss is not over yet, and our lips break contact for a second to let some air in. We kiss again and this time he goes on a quest to explore my mouth with his tongue.
Holy mother of God!
The tingling sensation invades my mouth and gums, hard, very hard, so hard that the butterflies in my stomach wake up and don’t stop batting their wings.
We’re both lost in the urge we feel now, and every new kiss escalates in terms of passion. His other hand sits on my lower back and pushes me against his chest. I lift my arms and hug him. The hand that pushed me forward is on my ass, moving in circles. He’ll grab it anytime now, and I can’t wait any longer.
He lets out a grunt and grabs my ass so hard, I don’t want him to stop. He breathes and lau
nches another barrage of kissing against me. I fire back with my own. I don’t want him to stop, not now, not ever. Bruno grabs my ass with his other hand and lifts me up. I surround his waist with my legs.
“I want to kiss you until you forget about everything,” he whispers very close to my lips.
“Make me feel a little more, nothing else matters now.”
He walks towards the bed and puts me down on my back. He’s on top of me. Kissing his way down from my neck to my breasts, he removes my bra with caution. A moan gets lose when he sees my boobs.
“You’re fucking perfect,” he says through the moans, then starts kissing and grabbing them like they are going to disappear soon.
He pulls back for a second and looks at them in awe. With his hands still around them he dives back into my mouth. A clumsy hand tries to unbutton my pants, a hard task to accomplish, given the situation. It forces him to stop kissing me for a second to get it done. I wiggle my hips to ease my pants loose and before they hit the ground he’s back on top of me. One hand rests on my right thigh and his lips are conquering my belly.
He reaches for my panties.
I’m so excited, I feel I might die of pleasure. He slowly takes my panties off; I lift my hip to help him do it…
KNOCK, KNOCK, KNOCK.
We stop moving.
Is that coming from the kitchen?
KNOCK, KNOCK, KNOCK.
There it is again. Someone’s at the back door.
We’re still, frozen in time. “I’m not gonna get that, I don’t want this to end.” He’s so close to my center that my stomach is revving up. His tongue is touching my inner thigh and I lose my fucking head again.
KNOCK, KNOCK, KNOCK.
This time the knocking is louder.
“Go, it could be Carter.” The disappointment in his eyes is clear. I just realized that bringing Carter up when we are in bed might be a problem.
Cursing left and right, Bruno peels himself from me and stands up, shuffles his hard rock boner to the side and straightens his shirt. It takes him a second to gather himself; then, he walks out of the room, steadily but angrily, slamming the door shut in a single flat swing.