by Aven Jayce
“Uh,” is the only sound I can muster as I wipe the sweat from my forehead and laugh.
“Nice one,” she stands and disappears into the bathroom. Her time cleaning up, or whatever the hell she’s doing, gives me a chance to recover. That one was nice, as she put it. Emotional sex takes more out of me than hard fucks, believe it or not, and I’m spent.
She returns and curls up beside me with a look of satisfaction on her face. I run my fingers through her hair and we give one another a final deep kiss.
“It’s been awhile since I’ve felt a strong love from you. Your heart opened tonight, Cove. I’ve missed it,” she whispers.
“I know. I’m fucking stressed and I hit rock bottom at the Scarlett earlier. It made me rethink a few things in my life.”
“What? The situation with Ivy?”
“Maybe. I guess that was part of it, seeing her almost die before my eyes and feeling helpless. I pictured my own body lying on the floor in her place. It could have just as easily been me.”
She puts her elbow on the bed and leans on her hand with her eyes set on mine. “Don’t say that,” she whispers. “You’re not suicidal, you’re just depressed.”
I stare at our ceiling, unsure how this will turn out, or where to even begin. “We need to talk,” I sigh. “I need you to know some things about me. It’s time.” She’s perfectly still while she listens. “Next week my shrink wants to start our session with how I became a part of your father’s business. You know this is hard on me, and I get it that it’s just as difficult for you to hear, but I need the support of my wife before I speak to a stranger about my past. Can you help me through this?”
She kisses my hand then holds it close to her chest. “I’m here for you, Cove. You know that.”
I close my eyes and rest my free hand over my heart. It’s pounding so hard I think my chest may explode. Fuck, am I ready to speak these words to another person? I know she already has a sense of what I went through with Paul, but with her, like everyone else in my life, I’ve always refused to admit the fact that he molested me. My story was that he never touched me, never laid a finger on me sexually. But that’s the lie that’s kept me from being free. I want to change, especially for her.
“Are you sure this is the time?” she asks softly.
“There’ll never be a better moment than right now.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
Swallowing hard, I begin. “Your father... he...” I take a deep breath and exhale. “He touched me, Soph. A lot of people did, but he was the first.” I brace for her reaction but she stays silent; the only way I know she heard me is by the tightening of her hand around mine, and a tear that lands on my flesh. “I’m sorry,” I say.
She lays her head on my chest and more tears drop onto my body. She’s holding back some of her emotions, a silent cry, and I wish I hadn’t upset her.
“Should I stop?”
“No,” she sniffs. “I had a sense that’s what happened. It’s just so hard to hear you say it, but you need to, I want you to be able to let it out.” She releases my hand and wraps her arms around my body, holding me close to her in a way that I sense I’ll never be released. “I know people did awful things to you, I just... you know... someone should have protected you.”
I caress her bare shoulder and continue my gaze at the ceiling, thinking about her father.
“You’re trembling,” she says.
“Bad memories. Horrific, actually. Paul forced me to perform for him and in his company at an age and point in my life when I didn’t even know such things existed. But he was always the first to get his hands on me, show me what he wanted, how I should carry out scenes, said it was practice for the camera. Sick bastard. And he laughed too, thought it was all big fun to see a young teenager cry and vomit before him. He scared the shit out of me and I was full of anxiety that I’d say or do something wrong. I’d tremble like I am now, and beg him not to touch me, but nothing I could say would stop it... I was sure he was going to kill me so I told him he owned me, forever... I said I’d do anything he wanted if he’d just keep me alive. He laughed, of course, and said he already owned me. The fucker... he... God, the threats from him were relentless, and then the dunks in the tub and in the lake, I never knew when he was really going to hold me underwater until I was dead. My heart raced every second for an entire decade.”
My words are rushed and explode from my mouth and I push it out before I lose my nerve, before my wife can’t take anymore, and before I become so angry I need to punch the wall or break something... like my head. “He’d just appear in St. Louis, out of the blue, with those fucking beady eyes and evil smile. Licking his lips as a signal he wanted me, alone. He’d touch me, and I’d throw up, he’d make me suck him off, and I’d choke and cry, and then he’d fuck me, and I’d scream, but no one ever heard me, and if they did, they just went on with their business like it was an everyday event for Paul Jameson. And fucking David’s sons, Paul’s bodyguards, they knew, they were part of it. I hope they’re getting theirs in prison. And your father, he really messed me up, letting everyone have his or her way with me, and I just had to take it like I was some toy, everybody’s blow-up doll. I was never allowed to touch any of them. Hell no. I was everyone’s plaything, their little Star. It fucked with my head. And now where am I? What am I? I’m an adult lost in these memories. Running away and shouting for a way out. If he’s dead why does he still haunt my life... my mind? I can’t get him out of my head. My only escape back then was to drink. Still is today, but Paul set me up with all that shit... here Star, you little fuck, do a shot... now another... see how relaxed that makes you. Now open your mouth and blow me. That asshole. And then he’d send for us, me and his other boy toys; we’d get escorted to Vegas for parties, sold, beaten, sucked, and fucked. Goddammit!” I yell.
“Cove, breathe for a moment. Please, slow down,” she whispers and straddles my hips. “I’m proud of you, what you’re doing right now makes you the strongest man alive, but don’t get trapped in your head. Take a breath and return to me for a second so you don’t lose control and have a complete meltdown.” She runs her hands along my chest, messaging my tense muscles. I follow her deep breaths as she offers comfort and leads me back to her heart.
“I mentally collapsed a few hours ago, bawled my eyes out at the Scarlett, and now I’ve got nothing left but my usual hatred inside. You’d think I’d start to sob again talking ‘bout all this shit, but I can’t. I’m too exhausted. Just empty.”
Her eyes continue to tear as she nods. “It’s okay, say what you need to say, and I’ll cry for you,” she smiles tenderly, trying to ease my pain.
“It’s not supposed to be his way; you being the strong one in this relationship. I always thought I’d be able to shelter you from all of this, be the one to take care of you and not the other way around.”
“You do take care of me and don’t you ever doubt that, but we’re a team. When I break down, you’re my fucking rock. I should be able to do the same for you.” She brushes my hair away from my eyes as her warm body descends next to mine. “You broke down earlier because of all of this, and not about your father or the other things going on?”
I rub my eyes with my forefinger and thumb, and nod.
“So this is in your head more so today than other days because of your shrink appointment?”
I sigh knowing that I need to lie to her again. I’d hate for her to know just how much my mental state has deteriorated, and she hasn’t a clue that I’ve been suicidal in recent weeks. It’s not the shrink appointment. Paul’s always lurking, especially when I look into her eyes... his eyes. “Yes,” I finally respond.
“I understand it was the first time seeing this guy, but do you have any sense if he might be able to help you?”
For her sake, I hope so. “Maybe, but then again, talking to you may’ve helped. I won’t know if I feel better from my sessions for a while.”
Tiny embers remain in the fireplace as our naked bodies
are being enveloped by the darkness of the night. I raise my hand and look at my splinted fingers, sigh, and rub my eyes once again.
“I smell alcohol on your breath... how much?” she whispers.
“A few swigs, not enough to change my mood.”
“Well, you seem a little calmer now. I guess it’s fair to say the talking is helping, and since you weren’t drinking heavily, it wasn’t the alcohol that worked this time. You wanna tell me more?”
“Yeah? Will you stop me again if I start to lose control... keep me from falling off a cliff?” Her lips brush softly over mine and I inhale deeply from her delicate, loving response.
“I will. I’ll keep you safe. Nothing like this will ever happen to you again, I promise. We’ve had our share of evil for one lifetime, now let’s start to put all of this to rest. Tell me anything and I’ll help you chase the memory away, then tell me something else and we’ll open the door to the terrace and force it outside... the more you give, the more I’ll take. Remember that. I’m going to share your pain and fears so you’re no longer in this alone. Okay?”
“Yes,” my voice cracks as I fight back the tears from her moving words. Damn, I didn’t think I’d cry again today, but hearing the compassion she has for me, for this situation, and feeling her warmth; it’s unreal. “I’m glad you agreed to give a shitbag like myself a chance.”
“Well, I think it’s incredible that you’re finally opening up, and I say that not for your sake only. I need this too, you know?”
Her hands flow over my abdomen, sometimes grazing across my dick, and then down my legs and back to my stomach. She’s gentle with her touch, allowing me a moment to take rejuvenating breaths before I dive back into my twisted life.
I try my best to leave out the grisly details, but even my toned-down accounts make her wince. Especially when I open up about Paul’s dominant play.
“He forced me to masturbate in front of him and choked me out... pressed on my carotid artery until I was unconscious, and then did it again, over and over until I came. He’d grin and say, ‘I love to watch your eyes go lifeless, someday I’ll keep you in that dark place.’”
“Dear God,” she shies away in her softest voice.
It must be torture for her to hear these things about her father, and even more so, her husband. The pain in my heart tells me to back off. She doesn’t need to go through this shit, and yet for myself, what a sweet release. And she said she needs it as well. There’s a rope in my mouth that Soph’s tugging on, and little by little her father’s body and words are being pulled, kicking and screaming from my gut.
“Sometimes I thought the shithead loved me merely because he kept me alive. After a couple of years I was brainwashed into believing love meant giving my body to him. I mean; if the sick bastard didn’t beat me or kill me after he fucked me, then he must’ve loved me, right? And giving him what he wanted always made him happy, except when it didn’t, and those moments were the worst.”
I don’t expect a response, but hear a sniffle and feel tears as her body shakes in my arms. I pause and have to make a decision of whether or not to continue, with the possibility of causing her emotional damage, or hold it inside, maybe never having the balls to discuss any of this again.
She turns her head and kisses my forearm as a convincing sign of support. “I love you, don’t stop. You need this.”
“Alright,” I exhale. “In the beginning, if I made a mistake around Paul or didn’t give him the satisfaction of a pleasurable fuck then there’d be consequences. And he made sure the punishment included a good mindfuck. Like...” I swallow, unsure about my next words until a delicate hand brushes my cheek. She leaves a kiss and her sweet breath directs me to let go. “Like the first time he... when he...” I exhale. “When he put himself inside of me and tore...” I close my eyes and take a deep breath. “I got blood on his precious shirt. It drove him into a rage and I still can’t figure out why. Puke, and shit, and cum, or any other bodily fluids were okay, but not blood. And that’s when the first mindfuck happened.” I soak the pillow with tears while she lies on top of me with her legs and arms wrapped tightly around my body for security. “The sick beast put a tampon in me and made me believe it was the proper use for them. He said women buy plugs all the time for their asses because they love a good anal fuck... men too. He said it stops the blood. I was so confused. I hadn’t been around many women at that time, and had only heard from a few of my friends about the whole female period thing, but I didn’t know if they were joking, or ignorant, or what the hell was going on. I mean, why would women bleed out each month? It sounded like they were aliens, and Paul’s version made more sense. A total mindfuck, Soph. Your goddamn father... then I thought my mother got it in the ass all the time because she’d buy those things. It wasn’t until a year later that I wised up and read the instructions inside one of the boxes I had found in her bathroom. I wanted to crawl into a hole and die. He made me hate myself.”
I wipe my eyes and take a few breaths to calm my anger before it spirals into a violent outburst.
“Cove?” My name is spoken in the saddest of tones. “I can’t believe you had to endure such pain and fear all by yourself. You’re so dear to me, and hearing these things... I just wish I knew you long ago and could’ve helped you. It’s so sad,” she cries. “I wonder how many other lives that bastard destroyed. Do you think he was the same way when he was married to my mother? Maybe she went crazy because of him?”
“Paul was good at making people crazy, but your mother’s bipolar, and you know it’s not possible for another person to cause that, but, I wouldn’t doubt if he drove her mad and pushed her over the edge at times.”
Our legs entwine as she drops next to me and massages the arch and heel of my foot gently with her toes. I pull our black and grey striped comforter over our bodies and she nuzzles her head against my chest.
My fingers stroke her stomach lightly, and I’m reminded that we have a baby coming. Under my fingers is a tiny growing child, a kid who’ll never be harmed by either one of us. I kiss her forehead and forge onward, beyond tired, but refusing to fall asleep without asking her something I’ve asked a hundred times, convinced she’s not telling me the truth. “I know your father disappeared from your life at a young age and he didn’t return for many years, but did he ever hurt you? Or maybe your brother? Perhaps not sexually, but physically? I just don’t see how the two of you escaped his brutality when you were little.”
She doesn’t respond so I approach my question in a different way. “Sometimes, when I was at his home in Vegas, he’d lock me up.” I whisper. “If I mouthed off to him he’d put me in the trunk of his car as punishment. I know it was just another game to scare the shit out of me, or to try and turn me into a Stockholm syndrome victim; but I never became emotionally attached to him and that made things even worse. What he wanted was for me to worship him, but he knew all I ever felt was pure hatred.”
She turns her head and finally gives me her usual response. “He was always kind to me as a child, and I never saw him hurt my brother either. The three of us were very close; it was my mother who was the outsider, the monster in the house. I’ve already told you I was afraid of her, not him. But, what I don’t understand, Cove, is the fact that your father was with you in Vegas when you were too young to travel alone, and he pretended it was a business trip, all so your mother wouldn’t become suspicious. What the hell was he doing while all of this happened? I’m sorry to bring this up now, when we’re in the middle of other things, but thinking about the fact that he was there, in Vegas, and knew things happened in St. Louis, it all makes me ill and none of it makes sense. I’ve always had an uneasy feeling about it. I mean, come on, it’s so unreal and it pisses me off.”
Her mood’s changing. I can tell now when her train of thought gets lost, jumbled in her head until she becomes bitchy and angry, or does a one-eighty and either changes the subject or becomes a blubbering mess. I need to try and stop it from happening.
“I don’t want to make it sound like this shit with Paul was a daily occurrence, I’m telling you the things that stuck with me because they were so traumatic. Alright?”
“No, I want to know where your dad was during those moments, if it was only once or twice, or fifty times, it doesn’t matter. Don’t you think about that? Don’t you find it strange? What? Was he sitting in a hotel room watching television? Was he in Paul’s house listening?”
“We’ve talked about this. He had no choices, no possibility to...”
“I don’t believe any of it. Why you? Why did my father hate you so much that he did these things to you? It must have something to do with your father.”
“Soph, knock it off. Don’t start with the conspiracy theories and this shit again. My father didn’t know everything that was happening, you’re the only person I’ve ever opened up to with the details, and I don’t want to talk about him right now, okay?”
She’s thinking quietly, or on the other hand, she may actually be listening to my request to let it be. I grip the back of her neck and pull her toward me for a kiss. Her lips have gone cold, and I can taste the salt from her tears around her mouth. She made it. I feel as though I can open up to her a little each day and she’ll be able to help me. It’s not going to be pleasant for either one of us, but after tonight I know she’s strong enough to endure my memories, and spit them out without them consuming her as they have me. Maybe someday she’ll talk to me about her mother and brother, but for now, this was a good start toward a better life together.
“Your father may not have known in the beginning about Paul’s abuse, but he was fully aware of what you had to do for the company,” she whispers. “There’s no difference and my honest opinion is that I believe you’re too afraid to find out the truth.” She rolls on her side with her back to me and positions her body close to mine so we can spoon. I hold her in my arms and set my dick between her ass like a baby who needs a pacifier.