Page 56 of Petty's Crime

Petty

Can I trust her?

I stare at her, trying to read her mind, trying to telegraph it would be in her best interest to keep quiet about the secrets I’d spilled so carelessly. Even now I have no idea what made me open my mouth.

I’d never hurt her.I’ve never hit a woman in my life, or not since I was four years old and shoved my baby sister.

I’ve never spoken to anyone as I had to her. Even in the honeymoon days with Britney, I hadn’t spilled much about myself. For the moment it had been cathartic, as was knowing there was someone taking my side. But now I’ve come to my senses, I know I’ve said too much. I’ve revealed too much of the man that I am deep inside. I’ve painted myself as someone my brothers would laugh at, and not trust to have at their backs.

She doesn’t seem that bothered by my threat as, with a slight huff, RoseLyn lies down, turns away from me and goes back to sleep, or pretends to. After a moment, I rest my own head and close my eyes, but I stay awake, unable to relax.

My loose words can only be down to that fucking nightmare, and the belief I owed her some explanation for waking her in the middle of the night. Truthfully, reliving what Britney had done to me, had fucked with my mind. The problem is, I’ve now given a woman I barely know the weapon that could destroy me.

I worked so fucking hard after Britney was arrested to become a man not a mouse. Men don’t cower and allow themselves to be controlled. With her out of the way, I was able to take a good look in the mirror, and what I saw, I didn’t like. Britney had known a victim when she’d seen one, and I swore no one else would ever take advantage of me in that way again. Without her around berating me, I saw how weak I really was, and what I needed to do to rectify it. Since then, I’ve lived up to my ideal of masculinity—strong, decisive, taking no shit from anyone. I’m in an outlaw MC for fuck’s sake. You can’t get much harder than that.

A by-product of me becoming a man’s man has been to hate weakness in anyone who has a dick, and I give them shit if they don’t live up to the ideal I strive to. Like who can be a proper man if they’re attracted by the same sex? I’ve nothing but disdain for them.

Though Joker and Lady are good men to have at your back.Yeah, but they fuck each other. In the dark, I sneer in disgust.

Rope and Cuff?Thinking of the pair I shudder. I like them well enough, would hate to find out they share a bed and each other as well as the women they take there. I’d need to re-evaluate my feelings about them.Don’t ask, don’t tell.Better all around.

It’s surprising how, despite my initial reaction, I’ve come to like Red’s child, Zeke. Zeke’s got a dick, but they’re nonbinary. I suppose in my twisted mind they’re not pretending to be a man, so they can be weak.

Men’s men don’t get abused by women. I’d become a laughingstock if that ever got out.

I’d been pleased with the new improved Petty who wouldn’t take shit from anyone and could have continued this way forever. A pep talk each morning, and I was fit to go.

But then Britney came back.

Like a switch being thrown, she’d undone all the reparation I’d managed to the damage she’d left.

I can’t go through this again.

Fuck knows why she came back to me, but I can’t let her stay. I have to finally get that divorce.

Unless she’s pregnant.Fuck, fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck!

My hands bunch into fists. If she is, I’ll be trapped forever.

I loved her once, but not anymore. I’d been in her thrall, but am no longer. Surely she can’t love me, or she’d show it in more reasonable ways. Together, we’re a fucking disaster.

Was RoseLyn right? Had she raped me? I’d responded. I’d come. While I hadn’t initially been a willing participant, my body had enjoyed it enough, though my brain thought my dick had betrayed me.

Why can’t I see Britney in the same vein as the women I’ve fucked and moved on from, never thinking anymore about it? A convenient hole to get my release. There’s been no emotional connection with any of them, but nonetheless, a pleasant enough physical enjoyment, and zero regrets.

Why do I feel so dirty and used, as if I’ve been taken advantage of? I came. I was satisfied. For all I know, Britney’s protected and we didn’t need a condom anyway. Though she hinted otherwise, that could have been to fuck with me.

But it wasn’t consensual.

RoseLyn said it was rape.

Balling my fists, I press them into my eye sockets, trying to escape the thoughts in my head, but it’s impossible. My mind continues churning, not allowing me any rest. I lie awake as the sky lightens and the room goes from dark to dim.

When eventually there are sounds of life in the house around me, I give up any pretence at sleep. I take a quick shower, then return and pack my duffle with the few things I’d emptied from it.

The sound of me moving around awakens RoseLyn.

I frown when it looks like she wants to start a conversation, and turn away. It was bad enough that I spilled my guts to her in the night. Now I need things to get back to the way it’s always been between us—me showing her my masculine side, one where I don’t tolerate frailty, where I expect men to be men, and women to stay in their place.

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