Page 38 of Alamort

“You got Oscar to try to rape her?” Pushing her back, I turn around and storm inside. I didn’t think Amber was that vile. I’m all for her games of making people’s lives hell if it isn’t mine.

“Took you long enough.” Crew says, standing at the kitchen counter, his arms crossed. His tie lies on the counter, wrinkled and forgotten. He had already unbuttoned the top of his shirt, letting the cool air hit his skin. Saint is sitting on the stool in front of a laptop. Because he doesn’t have at least three monitors in his room. What is one more that he can bring everywhere with him?

“Yeah, was dealing with some shit. Anyway, I found Oscar Bush attempting to rape our spoiled princess.”

Saint looks horrified, as expected. Crew, on the other hand, looks the opposite. He has no expression. That may be his usual look, but he’s never hidden his emotions from me. Glancing at Saint, I try to gauge his reaction to my brother’s lack of.

“Was she crying?” Saint says. What an odd question to ask.

“Um, yes. Understandably so. Considering when I walked in, his hands were in her skirt, and she looked like a DV victim.” Saint’s eyes change briefly before looking back at his laptop.

“And?” Crew replies jaded. “Did you let him do it?”

“Fuck no!”

He shakes his head. “Maybe you should have,” he says so quietly I almost miss it. I wish I did.

Most of the time, my brother and I don’t see eye to eye, but our morals have always been the same. Saint sits mutely, not a word or a sound. I know mainly, Crew and I lived the same life. Struggled in the same way, especially with mom. But this? This is a new low.

“We want her broken. This would’ve done it.”

Old resentment I have comes bubbling to the surface.

Oh, I see what he’s implying. He believes this would make up for Tyson’s death. That this would be the wash to make us even.

“Yeah? You think so, Crew?” I shove him against the counter, getting in his face. “Did I fucking deserve it when I was younger? When Charles would fucking stick things inside me while Marie videoed it and I begged them to stop? Did I deserve it when I said ‘no’ and he’d make me get on my knees for the hell of it? What about when he would whisper in my ear and tell me I ‘liked it’. That I ‘wanted it’? And when I refused, he put me in a fucking closet for days! All the times I cried for mybrotherto come fucking save me from that hellhole.” My voice is hoarse from screaming. Bringing up the incident where he couldn’t save me completely changed the course of the conversation. That has nothing to do with Priya.

“Fuck you, Crew,” I spit. “If this is how you’re going to play the game. I’m fucking out. Tyson is rolling in his grave right now, hearing those words from your mouth. He would be disgusted. I know I am.”

Walking back to the side entry door, I rip my keys off the rack to my Aston Martin. The one girl who doesn’t talk back and piss me off. The only way I’m going to come back and not murder Crew is if I go for a drive.

BABYDOLL - Ari Abdul (On repeat)

Nighttime used to be the most terrifying time of the day for me. Dreading when my father would come home from his office. No women occupying his time. No one to talk politics with and no friends to plot the world’s domination with a bottle of whatever whiskey he drinks. That would be the time he would deal out whatever punishments for the day he saw fit. He called it his “most creative time”. Nowadays, it’s the only time I get a reprieve from my mind.

It’s a little after 1AM when I decide to take another shower. My day was mostly filled with a continuous cycle of tears, screaming into my pillow, followed by sleeping. Texting River, asking for space when that was the last thing she wanted to give me. The threatening to barricade the door if she wouldn’t give me time seemed to do the trick. She wants to take care of me. That’s not something I’m used to. I’ve convinced myself that I need to figure this out alone, even when I have the support to help me through it.

I spent the last part of my day thinking about why I wasn’t scared of the guy in the woods and why Oscar was so much moreterrifying. Was it the beating he had delivered beforehand? It reminded me of my father. Luckily, my father had the perception that I was too repulsive and undeserving of any physical contact besides hitting me.

In the woods, at first it was relief, the knife, the thought of death. Then it turned exciting. Not once did he raise a hand to me in anger. I didn’t have to face him. Not really. He’s like a dark secret I hide in the deepest parts of my heart and soul. A darkness… a shadow that sees through my bullshit. The clarity in which he sees me may be worse than either of those things combined.

The smell of coconut lingers in the steamy bathroom as I rinse the conditioner from my hair. The fog in the bathroom is so thick it’s like a physical barrier that separates the shower from the rest of the room. My skin is bright red from the heat of the water and the force of attempting to scrub off Oscar’s nasty hands from my body. Even now, long after he’s gone, the faint lingering of his grip continues to haunt me. My skin, once a bright red, is now morphing into a muted shade of plum. The piercing sound of my tormented wail echoes through the empty room.

My mind won’t shut the fuck up. I just want silence. Why? The last bruises from my father just fucking faded! Why can’t I just be left alone? I grab the new bar of soap I found under the marble countertop and turn back into the waterfall spray from the shower, wishing it could be a pressure washer. That could get rid of it. Scrubbing strenuously, I’m determined to loosen his hold on me.

Maybe I’m not meant to be happy in this life.

As darkness completely envelopes me, I can’t help but let out a shriek. There are no windows in here for privacy reasons, but that means it’s pitch black. The confined space, mixed with theunilluminated room, makes my heart rate spike. Did the entire school go out?

If I find my phone, I could call River. The utter blackness makes me disoriented. Not knowing which way is up or down. Guiding myself by touch, I feel my way to the open lip of the shower to get out and find the door. Only to be met with a wall of hot flesh. The sharp sound of my piercing scream echoes off the walls, filling the room. Oscar. He came back to finish the bet.

“Hush, Little Monster. No reason to lure anyone in here. I would have to kill them for seeing you naked.” The light British accent is distinguishable, even through the ringing in my ears. Gulping. It’s best not to tell him River has already seen me naked. The sensation of his calloused fingers trailing lightly down my arm sends goosebumps all over my body.

“Don’t touch me.” I grit out between clenched teeth. My body is confused already. It doesn’t know what it wants.

“You’re touching me,” he says matter-of-factly. My fingers trace the hard planes of his warm body stopping on the puckered skin on the sides of his Adonis belt. Digging my nails in and squeezing the exposed skin as hard as I can. Ineedsomeone to feel my pain. To hurt as bad as I am, inside and out. Instead, I get no reaction. Not a grunt or hiss of pain.

My Shadow’s thumb softly traces my lip before pushing the split bottom lip harshly, returning the favor. The feeling of shame and regret lingers as I flinch away from his probing touch, my breath catching in my throat. The wetness on my cheeks from my tears is distinguishable from the hot shower that beats down on both of us. The saltiness on my lips reminds me of the sorrow I failed to wash away.

---