He pushed his lubricant-slicked fingers between my ass cheeks and made circles around my opening, coming closer with each lap until he pressed against the tight ring of muscle.
“More.” I pulled my legs up and lifted my ass. Pressure made me gasp and was followed by a stretch and burn. He worked two of his thick fingers as deep as they would go. The minimal preparation left me aching with a sense of fullness. The slight discomfort quickly turned into a needful pleasure.
I rolled my hips in an attempt to ride his hand and fuck his mouth, but every time I thought I’d established a rhythm, Roy changed his pace.
Just as the burn in my ass stopped, he pushed in a third. I slammed my head against the pillow. “Please, oh please…” I abandoned my attempts to pull his hair in favor of clinging to the iron headboard. Any moment I would fly apart, and I didn’t want to be lost as the rush of spiraling euphoria drowned me alive.
“Gonna come, Roy, don’t, please…I… want…”
His fingers and mouth disappeared, and I howled in frustration. Roy recaptured my mouth, fucked me with his tongue, showing me exactly what he planned on doing to my body.
There was a moment of fumbling when he worked to keep his mouth on mine and guided his cock to my hole. I locked my ankles around his back just as he breached my opening. The ache returned in a rush of pleasure. I tightened my legs and raised my ass, forcing him to take me in one thrust. He stilled, and the muscles in his arms quivered with restraint.
The desire in his eyes was for me, a result of what I did to him. How I made him feel and how he felt about me. But it was the love that glowed brighter than the sun.
Roy pulled back and pushed forward, setting up an agonizing pace, making me beg him to never stop. I buried my face against his neck, and his ragged breathing filled my ears. We stayed like that. Him making long slow thrusts, me holding him.
No words needed to be spoken because we said everything to each other through touch, looks, small kisses, and desperate breaths. This was making love, not fucking. Just the silence of two bodies as one.
It felt like hours before I came, and when I did, I lost my soul to him.
********
I left Roy asleep in my bed and walked to the balcony. The wind cut hard lines through the ivy cultivated from large stone pots against the wall. Cold radiated through the glass windows on the door and into my palms.
The rabbit hopped up beside me, and we stared out the french doors together.
“I don’t know what else to do.”
The rabbit looked up at me.
“It’s the only way I can protect him, from her.” And there was no cost too high to keep Julia from hurting Roy.
I unlocked the door. The wind ate right through the cotton pajama bottoms I wore and parted the fur on the rabbit’s shoulder. My toes were numb before I had a patio chair moved next to the wall. The wooden seat made a small protest under my weight.
My tears froze, and my muscles danced, but it was no longer about being cold. I just wanted this to be over. All of it. Julia. The drugs. The alcohol. The lies. I’d been clean for over a month while in Carmichael’s care. Not just because I didn’t have access to the drugs. I didn’t want them. I didn’t need them. I was safe.
And I wanted to be safe again. I wanted to be held, kissed, loved. I had all those things in that fleeting moment of my life, and that meant I could die happy.
The rabbit was already on the ledge, hunkered down against the wind, when I straddled the wall. Below me, cars dotted the road, and in neighboring apartments, lights blinked on. But it was still too early for the commuters. My apartment overlooked a densely wooded area of the park so there was little chance I’d hit anyone when I landed.
Another blast of cold swept over me, and my muscles constricted. The crushing pain felt too much like it had when I thought Roy abandoned me.
I leaned forward and so did the rabbit.
This would end it all, the pain, the worries, the fear.
The rabbit put its paw on my thigh. Sadness filled its large dark eyes.
“I have to.”
Its small mouth churned, and it lifted its chin.
“It’s my choice.”
The rabbit put its other paw with the first.
“And it’s my life. I can do what I want with it.” Even toss it over the edge of a building.
The rabbit looked back at the doors. My reflection was captured on the glass and divided by the grilles. Sometimes, a section of me was alone on the perfect square; other times, I was accompanied by a sliver of sky, wall, and even the rabbit. The contrast defined the outline of my form, pushing lost details to the surface.
And it was me who gave depth to the world.
Sometimes, all it took was a swatch of color on a greater field to complement the surrounding pigments and balance one of my works. It was an affect difficult to see when standing close, but revealed if I stepped back and observed the entire canvas. Adding new colors built depth, and once in place, deleting even the most insignificant stroke destroyed the harmony created by the presence of so many hues and shadows.
If I wanted to change the direction of movement, it meant laying down new lines, altering the depth of shadows to make the colors pop, not obliterate what existed. Because even if those new brushstrokes covered everything, their success was built on the presence of those first layers even when those layers were a conglomeration of mistakes and muddied hues.
Like the canvas, if I wanted to make things better for Roy, it meant changing my perspective and facing the monster. Not the one born in my mind and fed by my lie, but the creature that made me help her drag a boy’s body out to a well and drop him into the darkness.
The one who made me into a liar.
Her father raped a boy of his life, and she’d raped me of my sanity. Both times, I let it happen because I’d been alone. But I wasn’t alone now.
With Roy, I had the chance to set things right. I could destroy the lie with the truth. I could tell the world what really happened. I could lay to rest the boy who kissed me.
“Won’t be quick, rabbit. She’ll bleed us. She’ll break our bones. We will suffer.”
The rabbit flicked his ears.
Roy was willing. Why couldn’t I be?
I climbed down off the wall and scooted the chair back into its place. The rabbit followed me inside.
My studio. My paintings. A comfort and a curse. My ability to paint allowed me to keep some semblance of humanity intact inside my soul, and it shackled me to the nightmare I lived in.
I touched my lips. They weren’t anywhere as soft as the boy’s had been.
Somehow through all the bad things, that one memory remained bright and perfect and unsoiled. The only part of my past that had come away clean. The only thing Julia hadn’t taken. Sure, she’d stolen the painting, but she couldn’t take those few moments in time, when the sun broke through the leaves in bits of gold and red.
For the first time, I was not afraid of the anger inside me. I begged the boy who kissed me to give me his strength and courage. From out of the darkness, he held out his hand, and I took it.
Together, we would ruin her.
I picked up the wood knife lying on the bench near a supply of brushes and carried it to the shelves where I stored my works. Pieces that were sold or would sell. Millions of dollars in art.
I pulled out the first. Apathy: a man on his knees wrapped in thorny vines stripping him of his flesh. He cried out in pain, but the people surrounding him gave him their backs and ignored his pleas.
The canvas gave way to the blade with a soft pop. A slow hiss of parting fabric followed the knife as I dragged it downward.
The edges of the gaping hole were rough with thick layers of paint. Threads dangled from the cut but wouldn’t unravel because they were glued in place by gesso.
I traced the folds of cotton fabric as it wrapped the frame. Building the canvases was often as important to me as painting the images. As a white void, they
numbed me in much the same way the drugs and alcohol did.
Then they took on my nightmares so I could breathe. I promised myself I would never burden such perfection with that kind of ugliness again.
I raised my leg and slammed one of the slats against my knee. The sharp crack echoed off the walls. On the bench, the white rabbit startled and kicked its feet.
I snapped another rung, leaving the canvas a crumpled mess.
The next painting was The Blind Man. I broke the frame, and the jagged wood punched a hole through the canvas. Then I gripped the wound and spread the fabric.
It bled. Blacks, reds, dark sooty browns. It poured out over my fingers and smeared the floor.
A third one.
The Rapist.
Together, the boy and I shredded the painting’s flesh and broke its bones with our hands. Together, we bled it out.
When the rack was empty, I went for the benches, shoving brushes and paints onto the floor. I stomped on the tubes of pigment until they smeared on the tiles and squished up between my toes.
I threw the jars of mineral spirits, and the glass burst with liquid pops. It wasn’t enough, it would never be enough. I went for the raw supplies: rolls of canvas, unassembled frames.
I grabbed one of the lengths of wood only to have it snatched away.
Roy tossed it aside and wrapped an arm around my chest. “Stop. Just stop.”
“Let me go.” I twisted in Roy’s grasp. Streaks of red and yellow smeared across his arms.
“For God’s sake, Paris, stop.”
“I have to do this.” Couldn’t he see it? Already, Julia’s pain boiled within the chaos.
“No, you don’t.”
“I have to take back what’s mine. I have to ruin what she’s stolen. No more, Roy. I will not let her take from me ever again.”
He turned me around. A smudge of green made a line on one of his cheeks. More paint was stamped across his chest.
“Please,” I said.
“Doing this isn’t going to fix things.”
“I know. I don’t want to fix it. I just want to hurt her, and this will hurt her. Then I can get away. I can live. I want to live. I want to be happy. I want a life. With you. Just you. I want peace. That’s all I ever wanted.”
Roy’s gaze went from my face to the destruction I’d started on my studio. I burned with the need to finish this. To end the suffering I’d released into the world.
Roy held up my hands. Blood from the cuts mixed with oils, and bruises bloomed on my arms. My thighs throbbed with the promise of grand additions.
“I’ll be right back…” Spots of paint tracked him up the steps to my room. He returned with our shoes. He knelt. “There’s glass on the floor.” Roy slipped the shoes on my feet before putting on his boots. He stood and cupped my face with his hands. His lips were so soft against mine. And the kiss wasn’t born of a memory.
We destroyed everything.
Every canvas, painted, not painted, shelves, brushes, jars of turpentine and mineral oil. Thousands of dollars in tubes of paint were crushed on the floor with their insides smeared.
With Roy’s help, I didn’t even need the anger of the boy who kissed me. Through the destruction, Roy and I fucked each other with violence. Never touching, but moving until we gleamed with sweat, grunted like animals, and strained for release, both riding on the waves of chaos we churned.
When we were done, the studio swam in the remains of my hell and the beginning of Julia’s.
I staggered through the mess on trembling legs. Roy led me to the couch. I had a second to think about how the paint on our bodies would ruin the leather, and then I decided I didn’t care.
We collapsed. Me in his arms, heaving like there was no air to breathe. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t pull my gaze off of the apocalypse.
It was beautiful.
The rabbit surveyed the ruined studio. Paint covered its feet, and there were several blotches on its side. Had it lain down at one point to watch us lose our minds?
Roy petted my head. “I want you to go back to the hospital.”
“Under one condition.”
“What?”
“You use my money to get a lawyer.” Roy stayed quiet. “Julia will make good on her threat. She will try and frame you, and she’ll succeed unless you have someone on your side.”
“Do you have any suggestions?”
I laughed. “I don’t even know where to go to pay the utilities.”
He kissed my temple. “We’ll figure it out.”
“We.” I sighed into shoulder. “I like that. All purple and gold.”
“Sounds pretty.”
“More like strong.”
“That you are.”
“I’m not.”
“You are, Paris.”
“Only because you’re here to hold me up.” I put my fingers over his lips. “It’s the truth, so get used to it.”
He cocked his mouth to the side. “We should get a shower.”
“What time is it?”
“Almost nine.”
“We need to get dressed and leave. Alice will be here at ten, and then Julia will be here shortly after. We can make any phone calls on the way back.” To the hospital; with its drugs, nurses, doctors, and locked doors. It had hotel-style rooms and a crappy art studio with crappier paint.
I missed it already. Even the shitty newsprint.
I unwound myself from the sofa. Roy took my hand, and I pulled him to his feet. A dab of purple paint streaked his upper lip and another spot of blue on the edge of his nose. For some strange reason, the colors were perfect on him.
“C’mon.” I tugged him in the direction of the stairs. We stopped when the elevator door opened.
Julia’s presence filled the lift. She was a lot shorter than me and several pounds lighter, but in that moment, she seemed ten feet tall and half a ton.
It was the air around her. It danced with jagged points of red and black.
Stray locks of her perfect hair stuck out to the side, leaving a visual path of where she had run her hand through it over and over. Maybe even pulled. I’d never known Julia to pull her hair.
She wore a peach-colored pants suit but no makeup. It might have been washed away because her eyes were puffy like she’d been crying for hours.
There was a small caliber gun in her right hand.
Over the years, I’d seen Julia in all stages of anger, all temperatures of rage, but in that moment, there were no words to describe the venom boiling in her eyes. It should have terrified me.
She stopped at the edge of the foyer. Her gaze went from me to the destruction of the studio. Her expression remained the same, but I couldn’t shake the feeling she was almost pleased with what she saw.
“I got a call this morning from the real estate agent managing one of the rental properties. Apparently, the people leasing the place woke up to a bunch of cops crawling over the yard.” She brushed her hair away from her face, but it clung to her cheeks in sticky clumps. “What did you tell them, Paris? What lies have you started up?”
“No lies.”
“Of course, it’s lies. It’s always lies. That’s all you do is lie.” Her voice spiked an octave with every word she spat until spit flecked her lips.
“What was his name?”
Her eyes widened a moment, then a sneer pulled her lips into a grotesque shape. “Juan, Julio, Pablo, pick one. It won’t make a difference. He was nothing but a worthless immigrant. No one knows who he was, and no one cares.”
“I do.”
She adjusted her grip on the gun. “Like I said, no one cares.”
“It’s over, Julia. Everything. The lies. Not mine. Yours. They know everything.”
“Fires burn hot, little brother. Fueled by flammables like turpentine, oils, and paints, they can burn really hot.” She raised the gun and pulled the trigger. A line seared across my shoulder. The glass on the french doors shattered behind me.
Blood cut a beau
tiful crimson path down my arm. Roy pulled me to the side. She fired again. Fragments of brick pelted my cheek.
With the open floor plan, there was nowhere to hide. The rabbit darted around the partition and into the kitchen. I pushed Roy to follow, but another shot plugged the wall near my head. We scrambled back to the corner.
We would die. Julia would make sure of it. Then she would set the place on fire, and there would be nothing left. Maybe it would kill more than just us. Maybe it would burn down the whole building.
But she was incapable of caring.
The rabbit peeked around the corner of the cabinets and bobbed its head. Before I even had time to run, Julia fired off another shot.
Roy jerked and a bloody flower bloomed on the thigh of his boxers. He fell against the wall. With all the noise, it was no wonder no one heard the lift doors open or saw Alice walk in until she said, “Did you shoot Andrew too?”
There was a second of fear in Julia’s eyes. Maybe even some shame. But it vanished so quickly I could have imagined it.
“I thought I told you to go shopping.”
“I did.”
“Then what are you doing here?”
“The store refused the bank cards. I called the bank, but they said that information was private.”
“What are you talking about?”
“They said the accounts had been frozen, but they wouldn’t tell me why.”
Julia’s anger blazed hotter. I was almost grateful she had a gun. Otherwise, she might have found a much slower way to kill us.
“So did you?” Alice stepped up beside Julia. So calm. So serene. And so very sad. How the hell could she look at Julia with anything but fear?
“Did I what?”
“Shoot Andrew?”
“He ran away.”
“No, he didn’t.”
“Yes, he did. Now go home.”
“That’s not what Daddy said.”
“What are you talking about?”
“The day Daddy died. The day you went into the woods with Paris.”
“You’re confused, Alice. Why would I go into the woods with Paris?”
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