Page 11 of I See Red

I start to bite out a response as he leans in, closing the space between us. “I was, well I—uh…” My frustration steals my words as the scent of vanilla and leather swarms me from the storm’s winds. My tears now replaced by raindrops, my anger fading with each breath of him.

Pulling on the door handle behind him, the back door opens. His eyes meet mine, humbling me as his tongue floats across his lips, lashing out at me with demand.

“Subete en el carro, Ivy.”

“Get in the car, Ivy.”

“I’d live a million lives being tortured without her if it meant getting one with her.”

—Tayden

Our relationship has been facile on the surface our entire lives. Forcing her to do something feels so wrong, knowingthe internal battle my presence has brought to her, to her relationship with Liam, isn’t easy. Every inch of me wants to wrap her up in my arms and tell her I fucking have her; that everything will be how it should, but looking at her reaction to my request, I find it best not to press further for now. Years of texts and sexual innuendos are not enough anymore. The irrational desire I have to touch her, to taste her, is beyond allowing it to never fucking happen. My dick needs resolve; it needs her; nothing could ever fulfill me like Ivy wrapped around my cock, just as her vines have strangled my heart all these years. All bets are off after we arrive. It is time we fucking have this dance, if only she finally agrees. Finding out what I did a few years back that night sitting in my father’s office made today a necessity, and my months planning leading to this exact moment necessary. I must be selfish. If that makes me the monster, then I’ll wear that mask with pride. There is so much I need to tell her and many questions she has left unanswered over the years I desire to resolve. Boundaries are not something we ever speak of; they are simply an unspoken road map between us. I wish that night hadn’t been what opened my eyes to understanding her more, but it made me realize the most important part of her. It took me years and a misstep to come to know, and now I cannot unhear her responses to my prying questions all this time. Our conversations swim in my head like a song on an endless repeat, shocking my nerves and slashing my heart endlessly.

It is never what she says. It is always what she doesn’t that you will hear her in. I continue to find her in all she has never spoken. Her silence, her tell, and the mirror behind the smoke of her words. If only I had been listening.

“Where are we going, T?” she questions, looking up at me, insecurity across her face, before looking back down to her nails, fidgeting in angst, but not the kind in which I hope to explorewith her later. She’s a ball of nerves. Hopefully, today will untangle some of them for her—for us.

“It’s a surprise, Ives, but I promise the risk will be worth the reward.” My response is a mere attempt to help dissolve her fears.

“Can you tell me anything? A timeline? A hint? I am in a soaking wet robe, for Christ’s sake, T,” she bites, her eyes off in another glare. Her lack of connection turns me on. I can feel my cock bulging at the thought of her sliding down it, mixed with the way the words leave her lips in uncertainty. I’ve enjoyed her brokenness all these years. Somewhere inside, I think I enjoy it even more knowing what I do. It should not turn me on that the woman I love, at one point, was forced to pretend she was certifiably crazy, but I am far from normal myself.

“No hints, Amor. A place where time doesn’t matter and distance is a mere illusion. And no, you don’t need anything where we are going. I suggest you rest,” I calmly reply, my hand readjusting myself in hopes she doesn’t notice.

Her eyes jolt, connecting with mine, laced with fire and fear. Something in my words just forced more harm than calmness on her.What did I say, Amor?I reach for the blanket I packed for her, wrapping it over her, taking her beauty in as she closes her eyes with no parting words before her head is across my lap. I watch her float away, running my fingers through her hair.Fuck have I missed her. I miss her so fucking much. I hope I can fix us, fucking heal her, kill everyone who harmed her, my father included.

The scent of honeysuckle and champagne, her scent, fills me, reminding me of my mission, calming the flames that rage inside of me as I lean my head back against the headrest. The city views now fading off into the distance. We have not long until we arrive. Hopefully, it’s enough time for her to get some much-needed rest. Now that she is asleep, I take the opportunity to getsome myself, as we are both going to need it. Rest has no place in what’s to come for either of us. It’s time I made her mine. She has always been mine to own, as I, hers.

I’m startled from my sleep by Ivy’s voice. Her body’s trembling, mumbled words gasping from her lips. Leaning my head down, I try to catch them,but I can’t make out any of them. I wonder if she always sleeps like this. I know she dreams a lot, per our texts. Is this why she’s denied my requests to fall asleep on Facetime together when I’m traveling? I’ve never seen anyone speak so much in their sleep before, and I’ve slept next to many women in my life, regretfully, well, only when I’m next to her. Being in love with someone you can never have has taken its toll on me, just as her. I am constantly searching for her in my sexual desires and relations, just to wake each morning and feel further from her, further from myself. Being in love with two—even more tragic. A lifetime of being the bad guy to every woman that crosses my path. The answer to their search for love when I am inside them, unknowing to them that I am simply a destruction in their path come morning. It’s tragic, selfish really. I’m not sure I can ever stop. Unless—

Ivy’s sleeping body begins to relax, her words continuing to roll off her tongue. Should I wake her? Should I leave her to sleep? I’m certain she had zero rest this weekend, drowning herself in true Ivy fashion, refusing to speak about her feelings yet just internalizing them in her head, spiraling in her own thoughts while popping champagne and, I am certain, listening to music. The Ivy cocktail in emotional times, if you will. One of my least favorite character traits about her, but selfishly, my favorite all in the same. Red on the other hand? That woman will destroy you with her honesty. Loving two women you crave but can’t have isn’t easy; never fucking either of them, even worse.Fuck, what I’d give to taste them, to have them both at the same time. I am a man, after all.

Looking out the window as the pines lining the road grow thicker, the city a distant memory, I can’t help but wonder what she is dreaming about. Stroking her hair, my lips gently kiss her head, my tone, a mere whisper, “I wish I was there, Amor, wherever there is.”

Wherever There Is…

“We all dream. Fortunately for many, they remain in their inner consciousness, never spilling over into one’s life. For me, no mornings are safe, no nights to be spared. Luckily for me, within my frown there is forever a smile looking back at me.” —Ivy, age 12, back in the 90s

It’s about eight forty-five; I’m one of the last ones here working on staff form for our upcoming demo performance and competition. My father’s voice penetrates my ears from across the room. Chills churn up my spine as the look on his face tells me all I need to know. They hit me like daggers from across the blue carpet with red lines, perfectly placed vertically from me to him. I watch him and Sensei head back into Studio C. One look is all it takes for me to be fully aware my world is about to flip upside down, and I will soon be back on the roller coaster called my childhood outside these walls. Taking a deep breathin, I close my eyes releasing it, beginning my mental preparation for the car ride home and the argument I know will soon follow between my father and I.

Rounding up my weapons, I head to my locker. I’m at war with my body fighting like hell to hold back the tears burning my eyelids like someone is holding a torch to my retinas. Taking another deep breath, I still my face like stone, keeping them slow and steady, fighting like hell not to allow a single one to spill over at the risk of someone seeing.Nobody must ever know, nobody must ever know, pain is weakness, and compassion is strength.Worse than what happens when I disappear is the idea of people knowing. Luckily, nobody has found out yet—not even T. I’ll be damned if they ever do, if he ever does. I was raised to endure pain and trained to never let the enemy see fear. For me, everyone in my life is the enemy. For anyone knowing what my life is truly like is ammunition, one I will never hand over to someone willingly. It is the only weapon that can break me. Reeling my emotions in, I stand tall, proceeding to my locker, nodding at Elijah as I pass him. Opening it, I place all my weapons in, grabbing all my things, my clothes, my hygiene kit, and my most personal items of all, my football folded letters from Tayden. Loading them into my backpack, I slide on my flip-flops, heading to find Sensei and my father. Turning the corner, I look over to them, backpack on my shoulder, rage in my eyes, and defeat in my heart as I release a breath.

“Sir,” I breathily gasp, nodding in their direction, acknowledging their conversation. The look on his face says it all, but he does just as he trained me all these years—stand tall and show no emotion. But I see it in his eyes; he loves me, and he doesn’t understand any of this, for my father wouldn’t dare give him the full truth, nor could he ever, not without throwing himself under a catastrophic bus. One I’m sure he’d bury my father under if he ever found out. The thought brings me a pieceof solace in this horrible moment. I’m not sure I could handle the only man I’ve ever looked up to and trusted wholeheartedly, knowing the ins and outs of my life no matter how much I want to cry out to him for help. My father looks at me with tear-filled eyes he probably had to work overtime to create. Standing strong, I focus my eyes on him, away from Sensei, for when I look at my father, I fill with rage, and in this moment, more than anything, I need to get the fuck out of here before I crack in front of the man I never want to see it.

“Let’s do the dance, Dad,” I say to him, my tone filled with disgust, my heart shattering, knowing what hell awaits me on the other side of his passenger door. I say no goodbyes, for that would only make things harder as we head to the car. Staring down at the white rocks, using their sounds as a calming mechanism as they tumble beneath my feet, crossing through the parking lot to his all too beautiful black Lexus that makes him believe he is creating this image of wealth, but let’s be honest, Grandma has the money, not us.

How can this be? Fucking Jessica. I’m going to kill her, scratch that, I’m going to kill my father. How the fuck am I going to get out of this? I can’t do this again. I am so fucking tired, fuuuuuuuuckkkkkkkk.

Slamming the door shut, I pull on the seat belt so aggressively I overextend it, causing it to lock on me. Fucking great. Releasing it, for it to real back in, it slams into the interior before I snap it back out, stretching it across me, clicking it in.

“Not sure why I’m buckling myself at this rate. The best thing that could happen is you throw us off a fucking bridge and just take me out already,” I growl at my father.

“Really, Ivy, that’s exactly why you’re in this mess, your words and that anger,” he responds.

“Ha, my fucking anger? Wouldn’t you be angry too if your parent locked you up for every indiscretion you ever made asa child? Fuck grounding, right? Just admit her into an insane asylum cause Grandma has the pockets for it, right, Dad? Fuck normal punishment, right?” I question without even wanting a response. Tears break from my eyes, my voice cracking as the pitch rises to screams.

“It couldn’t possibly be your fault for this sharp tongue I have? Or the wives you’ve brought into our lives just to force them out, no concern for my relationship with them, or the constant back and forth together then not? No, Dad, that has nothing to do with it. I’m always caught in the fucking middle, fuck I am the middle. Fuck your own demons, right? The fact that you can’t control me and mold me is your fucking problem; you and everyone’s inability to take my words with dignity like real fucking grownups because their truth wrecks your inner narcissistic views of yourself. No, something must be wrong with me, but since there isn’t, let’s create the narrative because I have a fucking voice, because I know daddy’s little secrets. Fuck, I’m so tired of being railroaded by unstable adults in my life and blamed for their own issues. Yeah, Dad, no fucking reason I’m angry. Itcouldn’t possibly be that you don’t allow me to have friends and that you isolate me and control me, but go off, tell me what’s wrong with me now. Better yet, pay some quack thousands of dollars to torture me yet again because you can’t look in a goddamn mirror, and when you do, all you see is what you’ve done to me, what you’ve become. The monster that destroyed every fiber of my innocence!” The pure rage, halting my cries.

“Jessica. What was that, Ivy? You can’t go around fighting girls in school every time they upset you,” he snaps.

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