I’ve asked myself the same question a million times. And I always circle around the same answer.
“Revenge. And I don’t care if that doesn’t make me the bigger person. I have power over her, and she’s forced to pay me rent. After everything I went through in that house, I’d say I’m being pretty fucking considerate.”
“What did you go through?” he asks softly. I brushed over a lot of shit this entire time, but he caught me at a good moment. It feels good to talk about this stuff. Ryan doesn’t ask—or care—and Amelia knows a lot, but she’s dealing with her own shitty past. It never felt right to dump mine on top of hers.
I don’t think I’ve ever been able to freely talk. And that’s what I do with Mako. I purge everything that’s been done to me as a child. The dirty men raping and molesting me since I can remember. I don’t remember kisses from my mother, but from strange men.
Then I tell him about Camilla and how for a short period of time, she saved me. And right when I really thought I was going to escape Shallow Hill far before I planned, she was ripped away from me. Sometimes I wonder if I was a horrible person in my past life, and this life is my punishment. I’m atoning for whatever sins my soul has committed.
I tell him about the countless times I’ve gone hungry and had to beg for food after Camilla died. Men would only give me food if I performed sexual favors. I did it. It was my way of survival. I became what Barbie always said I would—a whore.
That’s why I know Ryan isn’t wrong. I am a whore. I had sex with men at thirteen years old so I could eat. My only requirement was they wear a condom. I’d rather starve than catch an STD. I was incredibly lucky I hadn’t up until that point.
“Please don’t call yourself that,” he pleads quietly, but gruffly. The soft tone catches me off guard. I look at him with confusion. Not only was I not expecting him to care what I called myself, I certainly wasn’t expecting him to ask so… nicely. Ryan’s always demanding things of me, expecting my compliance and then calling me names when he doesn’t always get it.
“What?”
“You’re not a whore, River. You were repeatedly raped and were forced into those situations because you were slowly dying from hunger.”
Fire blazes from his eyes. I’m not sure how, but I know it’s not directed toward me, but for me. And I don’t know how I feel about that.
I open my mouth. I almost say the words.
Ryan thinks so.
But I already know what his response will be.
Ryan’s fucking wrong.
Is he? I’ve been called a whore my entire life. For my actions—for what I had to do. For being pretty and dressing in clothes that compliment my body. Men have whispered in my ear countless times that if I didn’t look so sexy in my pajamas, they would’ve been able to resist me. It’s because I’m so beautiful that men just can’t resist me.
And that’s when I was a little girl.
Yesterday, I wore something sexy. And men looked at me. That upset Ryan.
“I don’t believe that.”
Mako turns towards me further. The bench protests under his weight, and I get a little nervous that it’ll collapse.
“You shouldn’t be punished for showing the world that you’re beautiful. Those men are wrong for sexualizing a little girl. That’s sick, River. It’s okay if a man looks at you—as a grown woman—and finds you attractive, but it is not okay if that man assumes that gives him the right to make you uncomfortable in any way. Whether it’s by the way he looks at you, speaks to you or touches you. If you want to walk out of the house in the sexiest thing you own, then that’s your goddamn right because it is your choice to show off your body. Don’t give any man the power to control what you do with it.”
“It’s mine,” I whisper.
“It’s yours,” he repeats. “No one else’s.”
I dig my teeth into my bottom lip. I’ve never had a man give me a choice. It’s always been take, take, take.
But the thought of Mako owning my body… God, I think I’m having a heart attack. It’s too sinful. Liquid heat runs through my system and straight to my core. I clench my thighs to abate the feeling, but only serves to tighten my nipples into sharp little points.
“What if… what if I want a man to own me?”
He leans closer, and his scent assaults my nose. Pure male with a hint of soap. My eyes want to roll, but I don’t let them. I’m in control of my body, not him.
“Then give that privilege to a man who deserves it. If you want a man to own you, then let him. But that’s not something he has a right to without your consent,” he says, his voice so, so deep and husky.
Licking my lips, I feel compelled to ask. “Do you want to own a woman?”
My own voice is dangerously husky. My breath too short. Too choppy. My body is too hot, overheating until I’m sure there’s smoke leaking out of my mouth.
“The only way I want to own a woman is by owning her pleasure. I want her body to sing for me—a tune that only I can hear. I want her body to gravitate towards mine like a moth to a flame. And I want her to grow to dislike the feeling of being so empty when my cock isn’t inside of her.”
Too much. Too fast. I want to do the opposite of deny him. I want to give, give, give. Until his hands are full of me, and my body is full of him.
I need out.
“I have to go now.”
Seven
river
I’VE ALWAYS HEARD THAT when a ghost is nearby, you feel an impenetrable cold so strong, it soaks into your bones. And when one passes through you, it’s like inhaling ice.
The house is quiet.
There must be spirits playing dress-up with my body.
I know he’s here.
“Ryan?” I call.
What’s the point in dragging it out? The anticipation is killing me. Adrenaline thumps inside of me, and I’m ashamed to admit my hands are shaking a little. Bilby greets me from his perch on the couch, meowing quietly, followed up by a yawn. I walk over, petting his grey fur and trying my best to distract myself from the impending confrontation.
“Right here,” he says quietly. I jump, causing Bilby to jump and run from the couch. My distraction worked too well—I wasn’t expecting his voice to come from behind me. I turn and see him standing in the foyer.
I’m too startled to say anything. He takes a step forward, and I take a limp back. My hip still hurts.
“Where have you been?” he asks darkly.
“Hanging out with Amelia.” He quirks a brow.
“Then why did Amelia say she hasn’t seen you in a week?”
He talked to her? Fuck.
Another step towards me. “Are you cheating on me?”
I shake my head, my heart racing. “No, of course not.”
“Then why the fuck are you lying to me?” he growls through his teeth, the look on his face starting to look more and more like a demon’s.
“I don’t know. Because I’m mad at you.”
His eyes widen in surprise for half a second before they narrow into thin slits. A derisive laugh trickles through his teeth.
“Mad at me? I’ve done nothing but take care of you this whole relationship. You have everything you could ask for. I’ve loved you and cared for you. I’ve only treated you how you deserved. If I’ve had to teach you a lesson when you get out of line, then that’s not my fucking fault,” he spits. Literally, too. Spittle flies out of his mouth as his anger increases.
“Do I not have free will, Ryan?”
He rears back. “Excuse me?”
“I don’t need your permission to live my life. If I want to go get a donut and take a walk in the park, then I’m fucking allowed to.”
His hand whips out so quickly, I don’t even see it coming. The sharp pain explodes across my cheek. I cry out, clutching a hand to my stinging flesh. I don’t even know why I’m shocked. Anger fills my body so potently, I’m convinced my blood evaporated into wisps of smoke.
I do better.
My fist flies forward and clashes with his cheek. His head jerks to the side from the force and immediately pain flares throughout my hand. It feels like I broke it.
We both freeze. Guess I’m more like my mother than I thought. That girl from the club comes hurdling back. The fearless girl who used to dance with slimy men and break their noses when they got too comfortable. The girl who refused to take shit from any man.
Where’d she go?
The only thing that moves is our heavily pumping chests. Slowly, he looks over at me. Several emotions play across his eyes. Shock and fury are prominent, but there’s another emotion swirling around that I can’t name.
“Why did you do that?” he asks darkly.
“Because you deserved it,” I breathe, feeling a tad invigorated.
“Do you feel better?”
“Only if it means you’ll stop laying your hands on me. You’re supposed to make me feel good, not hurt me.”
He sucks in his bottom lip, that unnamed emotion coming to the forefront. It almost seems calculating, but I can’t be sure. And to my surprise, he nods his head.
“I’m sorry,” he says.
I need a thesaurus. How many words are there for the word surprise? I feel every one of them like each synonym is a different emotion.
“You… you’re sorry?” I ask, my brow bunching into a deep V. Whiplash. That’s the best word to describe how I feel.
He nods and touches his hand to his cheek. “Yeah,” he whispers. “I’m sorry. You didn’t deserve any of that.”
I narrow my eyes, skeptical of his behavior. His whole face transforms. His eyes softening, and his face relaxing. He looks genuinely sorry. Despite my best efforts, I feel myself softening, too.
“Then why did you do that?”
Shame clouds his eyes when he looks my way. “I just get so worried about you. So many men have taken advantage of you, and I’m terrified someone will come along and try to do that. I can’t protect you if I don’t know where you are, River. I can’t keep the monsters away if you show them what they can take from you.”
I bite my lip, and I feel just a little ashamed myself.
“I—I can tell you where I go, and I won’t dress so provocatively. But I need you to stop hitting me.”
He comes to me in a rush, but not with anger this time. This time, it’s nothing but love in his eyes. He curls his strong arms around me tightly and brings me close, nose to nose.
“I’m sorry, baby. I shouldn’t have done any of that. I won’t hit you anymore. I get so frustrated because you don’t understand how men think, and I do. I just need you to listen to me, okay? I need to know where you are and what you’re doing. And I need to make sure your body is covered properly so men don’t try to steal you away.”
I nod, and we both deflate in each other’s arms.
Mako was wrong. Ryan doesn’t want to own my body. He just wants to protect me. Keep me safe.
And no one has ever done that for me before.
“I noticed the mirror,” he says quietly. I stiffen before pulling back.
“Ryan, I am so, so sor—”
“Shh,” he whispers, cutting me off. He grabs the back of my head and pulls me back into him. “It’s okay. I get it. I already had someone come in and replace it.”
Emotion builds up inside my chest. Namely relief. I didn’t want him to hit me again because I broke his mirror. I bite my lip. “You sure you’re not mad?”
“No, baby, I’m not mad. I love you so much, River,” he says, resting his forehead against mine. “I can’t lose you. I can’t live without you.”
Tears burn my eyes. Not from sadness, but from happiness. I feel on top of the world now. I feel like we’re finally moving in the direction we need to be. It feels like we’re healing.
“I love you, too.”
“Let me make you feel good,” he whispers into my ear, nipping my ear. Shivers run through my spine. I’m nodding my head before I even realize it.
His lips touch mine in a gentle kiss. It’s sweet, and soothing. Slowly, he increases the pressure until it turns hungry. He scoops me in my arms and carries me up to our bedroom, never letting his lips stray from mine.
The second my feet touch the cool wood flooring next to our bed, he’s peeling my clothes from my body. Hot kisses trail from my lips down to my neck. They pause at my breast, and wet heat envelops my nipple.
My head drops back as pleasure washes over me.
This right here, is what makes me feel loved.
I can get used to this.
“I THINK I MIGHT be pregnant.”
I choke on my iced coffee, inhaling some of it through my nose while the rest flies out of my mouth in a perfect arch. Good thing class is over and we’re walking towards her car. If we were in the cafeteria, I would kill her.
“Wow. That was disgusting.”
I laugh, partially from disbelief. I wipe my mouth and nose with my hand, trying to clean up as best as I can. Great, now I’ll be sticky.
“That was your fault. Are you fucking with me?”
“No,” Amelia sighs wearily.
“Why do you think you’re pregnant?”
She shrugs her shoulders. “Because I’ve been really horny lately.”
I look at her incredulously. “That’s it? You’ve been horny?”
“No, I also threw up at the smell of bacon. Twice.”
“Oh my God, you’re definitely pregnant. No one throws up at the smell of bacon.”
“Right?” she says, her eyes wide.
“Are you happy?”
“Are you kidding me? I’m fucking terrified.”
I laugh and pull her into a tight hug. “Well, I’m happy for you, babe. You’re going to be an amazing mother.”
I’m beyond happy for her. Maybe one day, it’ll be Ryan and I having a baby, too. Our babies can be best friends.
She beams and hugs me back. “Thank you. I can’t do this without you, though, okay? I’m probably going to cry a lot. I already cried when I was watching one of those dance competition shows. Bawled like a fucking baby.”
I laugh and let her go. “I think I always cry during those shows. They’re just so fucking good that the only thing I can do is cry.”
She slumps her shoulders in relief. “Oh, good, I’m glad I’m not the only one. I was just going to use pregnancy as my excuse.”
“Yeah, I usually use my period as an excuse, it’s okay.”
We giggle the rest of the walk to her car. She’s already coming up with wild ass baby names like Jupiter and Italea, pronounced i-tall-ee-uh.
I wonder what Ryan would want to name our kids.
“YOU SEEM BETTER.”
Why does my body melt every time I hear his fucking voice? I don’t want my body to melt. I want it to turn to solid, unmeltable stone. Hearing his voice feels like injecting heroin. But just because heroin feels good, doesn’t mean it’s not capable of killing you. Mako is bad for me. He’s just like Alison—another pretty face sticking their nose where it doesn’t belong and trying to sabotage my relationship. For whatever reason, they can’t stand to see Ryan happy.
Mako stands there like a god, dressed in black pants again with a sage green shirt that makes his eyes pop out.
He needs to go away.
“Can you stop stalking me?”
A brow raises at my harsh tone. I don’t care, though. For a second, I almost fell for his shit. I regret every single moment from the library. Talking to him, telling him all my dirty secrets about my past life. Things that Ryan doesn’t even know yet.
That was three weeks ago now, and it makes me feel dirty. Like I cheated. In a sense, I suppose I did. I still haven’t confessed to Ryan about that day, and I never will. That’ll be something I take with me to the grave.
Especially because he’d be the one to send me there if he found out.
And I’m glad I didn’t say anything, either, or that night might’ve gone differently. Ryan made love to me and doted on me all
night. Never asked for anything in return, though I was more than happy to return the favor anyway. And ever since, we’ve been perfect.
We’ve come home to each other in high spirits, laughed and joked, had at-home movie nights where we fed each other popcorn, and ending in a pillow fights and making love. He’s spoiled me, cuddled me, ran me candlelit baths, and expressed his vulnerable feelings towards me. We’ve both opened up more to each other, and he actually listened when I told him about Shallow Hill and the men there. No judgement, and only sympathy and understanding.
He’s a whole new man, and I’ve never been more in love.
“I want you to leave me alone,” I continue. “Despite what you think you know about me, I’m happy with Ryan.”
Mako purses his lips, and something akin to disappointment flashes in his eyes. It’s gone before I can tell for sure.
“Did he whisper sweet nothings to you all night, and promise to never hurt you again?”
I bristle at his condescending words. A visceral anger is thrumming through me again. Someone shouldn’t be able to make me so angry so quickly. Clearly, that’s a sign. How could I think to listen to someone who does nothing but piss me off? Mako doesn’t have my best interest at heart, he only cares about satisfying his own. Which is doing everything in his power to make sure Ryan is suffering.
“You don’t know anything,” I hiss, my eyes flaring with undisguised hate.
“I know more than he does.” I flinch, my eyes widening in shock.
“Did you just throw everything I told you back in my face?”
“No. I’m just stating facts,” he responds dryly. His face is a blank mask. No emotion shines through his eyes.
I take a step towards him. “The only thing you care about is getting back at Ryan. I don’t know what the hell he’s ever done to deserve your hatred, but don’t bring that shit to my doorstep. I don’t care what you think you know, you’re wrong.”
Mako just stares, something akin to shock registering on his face.
Shallow River Page 9