by M. Robinson
“How many nights has it been? How long have I fucking been in here?”
He pulled his hair away from his face and raised his knees to have his elbows sit on them.
“You’ve been here around four weeks and you’ve been in this room for four days.”
I scoffed, “So it took you four days to come in here…I see how devastated you’ve been about the fact that you sodomized me, but at least you actually raped me this time.”
“That wasn’t rape,” he argued through gritted teeth.
“Oh yeah? Tell that to my asshole, Mr. Nichols, because it begs to fucking differ!” I screamed, making him wince at my words.
“But I guess you got your payback, right? And that is what this was all about. You wanted to get back at McKenzie and me…well con-grat-u-fucking-lations, teacher of the year, you succeeded,” I taunted.
“I never meant–”
“Bullshit. You wanted to hurt us. You’ve wanted to hurt me, but guess what, asshole, you can’t hurt me as much I have hurt myself.” He turned his face to the side, trying to avoid my words, as if they caused him pain hearing my reality.
“Look at me!” I seethed. “Look at me!” I repeated. “Fucking looking at me, James!” He instantly turned his face and it was first time in this whole ordeal that he saw me…he saw G, he saw what G turned into.
I was done hiding.
“I’m a drunk. I’m a whore,” I divulged with conviction. “I wish I could tell you that what happened the other night was the first time that’s happened to me. It’s not. I have woken up in beds that I don’t even remember lying in.” I closed my hands in a praying motion, bringing them up to my mouth. “All the men’s faces blend together; I don’t see any of them. I just see someone that will make me feel anything other than wanting to take a knife to my wrist,” I chuckled.
I pointed at the air. “I already did that though.” His eyes widened. “I didn’t mean to, at least that’s what I like to tell myself. You wouldn’t leave my mind, James.” I grabbed my head, wanting to pull out my hair and started to pace the room.
“I couldn’t get rid of you. I know I fucked you over, but you fucked me over first. I was pissed and hurt. Why? Why lie to me with sonnets, Shakespeare, and love if all you wanted to do was fuck me?” I agonized, trying to hold back the tears.
“That’s not what happened,” he said, barely above a whisper.
“Really?” I stopped and turned to him. “Why do you keep lying? The jigs up! Just tell me the truth, please…”
He took a deep breath and bowed his head in defeat. I slowly walked over to him and sat right in front of him with my knees to my chest and my arms wrapped around them. His head leaned to the side on his arms to look at me. We stared at each other for a while, not knowing what to say or how to say it. I was exhausted. His hand reached out for mine and I knew what he was going to do. He grabbed my left arm and flipped it over. He closed his eyes and made a pained noise from the back of his throat.
I could see his internal struggle with wanting to look at them, but that didn’t stop his fingers from touching the scar tissue. They rubbed back and forth on the rigid skin that I didn’t even notice anymore.
Just like my lies, my scars became part of me, too.
He opened his eyes and immediately found mine. “That thou hast her it is not all my grief, and yet it may be said I loved her dearly; that she hath thee is of my wailing chief, a loss in love that touches me more nearly. Loving offenders thus I will excuse ye: thou dost love her, because thou know'st I love her; and for my sake even so doth she abuse me, suffering my friend for my sake to approve her. If I lose thee, my loss is my love's gain, and losing her, my friend hath found that loss; both find each other, and I lose both twain, and both for my sake lay on me this cross: then she loves but me alone,”[11] he recited. “We are one and the same,” he stated, and then flipped his arm over to show me his truths.
Right before my very own eyes were matching scars, our battle wounds identical to one another.
“When did you do that?” I choked out, not being able to tear my gaze away from his slashes.
“Which time?”
I closed my eyes from the impact of his words. This was all too much. I wouldn’t make it out of there alive. He was slowly killing me. A single tear fell from my face, and when I felt his finger wipe it away, I subconsciously grabbed his hand and brought it up to my mouth, tenderly kissing each scar. He let me. When I opened my eyes, I saw that his were red and glossy.
“I was pregnant with your child,” I finally declared, liberating myself from the lie I’ve never shared with anyone.
I wanted to be free.
Forgiven.
I closed my eyes again. I couldn’t look at him. The pain from it all was eating me alive.
“What the fuck are you talking about?” he spewed, drastically changing his tone as I knew he would.
“You remember the cabin that you rented for Valentine’s Day,” I chuckled from nervousness. “You remember how we made love everywhere for two days straight? We couldn’t get enough of each other, getting lost in our bodies, orgasm after orgasm…”
“Yes. That’s all I thought about in prison when I would stroke my cock,” he informed, catching me off guard with his crudeness.
“We left there with more than just fulfillment and satisfaction. We left with our creation.”
There was a long pause. “G, look at me.”
I shook my head no. Not missing the fact that he had called me G.
“Please…” he groaned.
I took a deep breath and braced myself for what was to come, words can really damage you more than anything in this world. They have the power to change one’s emotions and feelings toward anything. Without words, we wouldn’t be able to cause war. That’s why thoughts are guarded so closely, because they have the impact to produce words that can cause our strengths or weaknesses to prevail.
Like they say; words can be forgiven, but never forgotten.
It was now or never.
I opened my venomous eyes and narrowed them at him. “What’s wrong, Mr. Nichols?” I mocked. “You don’t want to play anymore? I thought you were having a good time. Is it not fun to play with broken toys?” I expressed with glossy eyes.
He shook his head in dismay. “I didn’t know. If I would have known, things would have been much different. You never gave me a chance.”
“That’s bullshit. I knew the truth. I’ve always known the truth. I was at your house. I heard you and your wife make up. I heard everything. You used me! The entire fucking time! You used me. After everything I shared with you. It was all a lie. I was something to get your dick wet.”
“Gianna, Jesus Christ you were there? Where? How did you even get in?”
“I used the key you kept under your rug by the front door,” I chuckled.
“Gianna, my wife- my ex-wife…” he exhaled. “I was captivated by you the second you walked into my classroom. I knew you were my student, I knew it was wrong, but it didn’t stop the thoughts I had of you. It was sick and it was twisted. I was disgusted with myself. That didn’t stop our paths from colliding. We were a fucking train wreck, G, right from the start. We were doomed.” He shook his head trying to reason with me.
“I was the adult, I was the one in charge, and I couldn’t help but feel like I manipulated the situation.”
“I came on to you.”
“And I never turned it down. I let it go on. It continued because I allowed it. The more I was with you; the harder it got to stay away. I started to think about the future…I thought about the future every time we were together. The fact that I had unprotected sex with you was just icing on the cake,” he added.
He braced himself for what he was about to say. “Sarah called me out of the blue one day, wanting to work things out. I didn’t understand because we both had decided to go our separate ways, but she told me she was pregnant…and I’m sorry, but I took it as a sign from God. What would you h
ave done in my situation?”
I sat there, shocked from his revelations. My mind couldn’t process what he was disclosing fast enough.
“Pregnant? You told me you were going to get a divorce! You told me you weren’t together since the beginning of the school year!” I yelled and tried to get up and away from him, but he caught my arm, making me stay to listen.
“We hadn’t. But I fucked up and she came to me and was upset and crying. And we didn’t make sense, G! We never made sense. It plagued me and I had a moment of weakness. I thought–I don’t know what the fuck I thought…one thing led to another and it just happened. Oh my God! I thought about you the entire time. And I felt awful when it was over and so did she. We agreed it was over. When she came to me eight weeks later and told me she was pregnant, then I knew. I knew that was it for us. We weren’t meant to be, and as much as I wanted it to be different, it wasn’t in the cards. I didn’t think that you would turn on me because I let you go. I did the right thing. I may have done it too late but I tried to do the right thing.”
I stood right up and hovered over him. “That makes no fucking sense! You didn’t think about that before you decided to stick your dick inside me and get me knocked up–”
He stood up and closed his fists to his sides. “You said you were on birth control.”
“Yes. I was. I wasn’t lying.”
He laughed. “How the fuck am I supposed to tell the difference, Gianna? All you have done is manipulate everything to your advantage. How do I know you’re telling me the truth? How do I know you aren’t lying? You want my sympathy, right? You want me to forgive you!” he yelled, pacing the room back and forth.
“Well…I can’t fucking forgive you! I went through hell and back because of you. I’m still living in hell and I have no idea when I’m going to be free of it. And now you tell me you were pregnant…come on…do I look that fucking stupid to you? What do you take me for?”
I sat down, I had to. Between the lack of alcohol, new knowledge, and confrontation, I was done. I placed my hand on my forehead, clammy, just what I thought.
“I don’t know what you want me to say. I’m not lying.”
“Are you all right?” His tone seemed sincere.
“No. I’m not all right. I need a fucking drink.”
“You really are an alcoholic, aren’t you?”
I chuckled. “No. I’m not. I’m actually lying. I’m manipulative, remember?” I wanted him to go away, to have the liberty to wallow in my own misery. The misery I created.
He sat down next to me, leaned forward, and pulled my hand away from my face. “Why, G? Why all the lies?” he questioned with a confused face.
“Because I was angry. I was eighteen and I just wanted you to hurt. As much as I was. I’m not saying what I did was right, but it seemed right at the time. I never thought it would turn in to what it did. I didn’t think you’d go to prison. I just thought you’d get fired.” I sighed and held my stomach, trying to relieve the cramps.
“You’re a fucking mess; I mean, look at you…” he tried to rationalize, but all I kept thinking about was when he would bring me another bottle.
“You want a drink, don’t you?”
“Unless you want me to go into a seizure and start throwing up everywhere, I suggest you bring me something to drink.”
He shook his head in a disappointed manor. “And then what? Huh? What happens after this?”
“I don’t fucking know! Are you going to kill us? Because if you are, just fucking leave me here. I’ll die without any alcohol…isn’t that what you want?” I shouted, trying not to slur my words.
“Look at me, James! Do I look like someone who is fucking happy? Do you think I haven’t regretted what I did to you? What I caused myself…I ruined my life…for what? For some man who was going through a mid-life crisis and fucking paid attention to me. That’s it. I was a broken little girl and I now I’m fucking shattered. I’m so shattered I can’t even begin to put myself back together. The pieces are all fucked up! There’s nothing left.”
I didn’t care anymore; if he left me there, I would have welcomed the darkness with open arms. I lost the will to fight for anything long ago. He stood and placed one foot before the other and left the room.
This unbearable weight was on my chest and heart from the lies, the secrets, and the betrayal. The tightening in my throat and chest was almost unbearable, I was asphyxiated in it. I couldn’t tell the lies from the truth anymore. How could I let it get so bad that my perception was altered and disoriented? Was this from alcohol withdrawal? I groaned in pain, leaning forward to catch myself on the floor.
I heard his footsteps down the hall; I knew what he was bringing back with him. He wasn’t done with me; he hadn’t hurt or punished me enough. All it would take is for me to not drink it, to not take the sip that leads to more. I could turn it down and let this be the end of it all.
Who was I kidding? The second he would hand it to me, I would chug it like it was the last thing I would do. There was no going back for me, only a standstill.
I watched through hooded eyes as he sat in front of me, placing the bottle at his side. He was going to make me beg for it.
“Where is it?” he questioned.
My eyes went from the bottle back to him. “What?” I retorted.
“Where’s the baby? If you’re not lying, then where’s our child?”
I had to let him go, and the only way to do that was to kill him, too.
I looked right at him and spoke with conviction, “I killed it. I killed your baby, James. I killed our child.”
His mouth gaped open and his eyes changed from…
Love, hurt, pain.
Hate.
And then he lunged at me.
My back hit the concrete, knocking the wind out of me, and I gasped as he grabbed the lapels of my shirt. He roughly grabbed the sides of my face with one hand and the other grabbed the bottle.
“Drink,” he demanded, with execution behind his tone.
I kept my mouth shut as hard as I could and thrashed my face and body back and forth, trying to get him off of me. His hold tightened, making my cheeks dig in and my mouth open. “Drink!” he yelled, aiming it closer to my lips.
I didn’t want to be treated like a child, a prisoner; I would drink when I fucking wanted to.
“Drink.”
“Fuck you!” I spit out, jerking my face from side to side.
He squeezed my cheeks harder and my mouth opened. He poured vodka in and just kept going; it spilled down the sides of my face, down my neck, and toward my back. I chugged until I started choking. It burned when it made its way down my nostrils. I tried to move from his grasp, but he never let up. I wheezed, choking in air as he drained the entire bottle in my mouth. He was going to drown me. When it was empty, he threw it across the room and screamed. I heard it shatter against the wall and that’s when I used his momentum to push him away. He fell backward onto his ass and caught himself with his arms. I quickly backed away and went toward the shards of glass. I clutched one in my grasp and held it in front of me, winded and trying to catch my breath.
He cocked his head to the side. “What are you going to do with that?”
I hyperventilated, placing my hand on my chest to try to calm myself down.
“Isn’t that what you wanted, little girl? Do you feel better now? Did I make it good for you?” he scorned.
I used the back of my arm to wipe away the liquor as I continued to find my bearings, “Not as good as it was for you,” I violently replied. “You’re enjoying every fucking part of this! Who’s the monster now?!” I screamed.
His pupils enlarged and he sprang forward, smacking my wrist before I even saw it coming. The shard of glass flung out of my hand.
He grabbed my hair and pulled back has far as it could go.
“Ahh!” I screamed, trying to claw at him.
“Not as much as you enjoyed it, Miss Edwards.” His hand grazed my breasts and I t
ried to push it away, but he was stronger than me. He shoved me backward and up against the wall; I hit it with a thud. If it hadn’t been for the adrenaline, it would have knocked me out. He removed his hand from my hair and it went right to my throat. He shoved me higher up the wall, making it impossible for me to move. Our chests heaved up and down, almost in sync with one another, and then we locked eyes.
And that’s when I saw it.
Lust.
His mouth met mine with abandonment and desire. His tongue went to the back of my throat, claiming me. He wanted to brand me and I took in every marking. His tongue tasted the inside of my mouth and all over like he couldn’t get enough of me. I took his lead and kissed him back with the same enthusiasm; it was messy, sloppy and passionate as hell. He tasted better than I remembered, and when his fingers reached for my pussy, I moaned.
It was as if a bucket of cold water had been poured on him. He immediately moved away from me and held my throat tighter, pushing me further into the wall. His face was shocked and appalled, and I could tell he was angry with himself. Our breathing was still elevated, and he wiped away any residue of me that was left on his face, trying to get clean of me.
He squeezed around my neck, not letting go. I was losing air and he wanted me to. He had his lips pursed and the look in his eyes told me he wanted to hurt me and fuck me…he kept squeezing until I could barely breathe. The temporary loss of blood to my brain made me start seeing stars and the pressure made it blinding. My head fell to the side and I was sure my face was turning blue. He let go right before my eyes started to close, and I fell sideways coughing for air. I coughed, gasping, trying to breathe in as much as I could.
He just got up and left me, without so much as one word.
He let down his guard.
And it infuriated him that I knew it, too.
It gave me comfort in a situation that I knew was about to turn ugly. Mr. Nichols wasn’t fucking around when he told me he wanted to make us pay. He was going to rip away every last bit of us, if it was the last thing he did. I wanted to live in the bubble that I had created for myself, where no one could hurt me, unless it was me. I was my own worst enemy. My past had finally caught up with me and he was placing it directly in front of me.