Page 38 of Jezebel's Liberation

One step. Two. Three. Four.

Jez is right, and you need to talk to him.

Eight. Nine. Ten.

Where do I even start?

Thirteen. Fourteen. Fifteen.

What will he think about you when you tell him about Stewart and Ted?

Twenty. Twenty-one. Twenty-two.

And what the hell am I supposed to say about Phantom?

Twenty-nine. Thirty. Thirty-one.

This is how it goes for several minutes… me counting and thoughts racing.

“Sit the fuck down and talk to me,” he finally orders, but not until I’ve reached step one hundred and thirty-two.

Luckily, I’m in front of the other couch because my knees practically give out at his command, and I sink onto the cushion. Still, I don’t say anything.

“Shit,” he mutters. “To answer your question, no, you liking dick isn’t bad. I don’t give a flying fuck if you stuff holes or get yours stuffed.”

I huff out a breath. “Clearly, or you wouldn’t have left after killing Brine and Block.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing.”

“Bullshit,” he snaps. “You’ve made comments like that and hinted around atsomethingfrom the moment you showed up with Apple, and I’m damn tired of it.”

I level my eyes on his, and for the first time, I allow myself to really see the confusion in his stare.

“How is it that you don’t know?” I ask quietly.

Malice throws his hands up. “Don’t know what?”

“That I was raped anyway, despite how you tried to protect me from it!” I shout, jumping to my feet and pacing again. “That Father Brine and Deacon Block weren’t the only two evil men in that church. In fact, I don’t think they were even the worst.”

All color drains from his face. “No,” he says as if pleading with me to be lying.

As I stare at him, I’m reminded of the one and only conversation we tried to have about this not long after we reconnected.

“Who?” he demands in a clipped tone.

I shake my head. “It doesn’t matter now.”

“It fucking matters, Mark,” he snaps. “Give me a name.”

I return my gaze to his. “Malice, I’m… Fuck, I’m so sorry about what you went through, what they did to you. I really am. And grateful.” He smirks, but it’s full of self-hatred. I don’t blame him now that I know why he was sexually abused. “I… you suffered to protect me. But…” I shake my head again. “It didn’t work. I suffered too.” I turn and walk back to the wall, punching it. “Fuck!”

“Who?” he asks again. “I’ll fucking kill ‘em. I’ll hunt ‘em down and end their goddamn miserable lives.”

I huff out a breath. “I’m a grown man, Malice. I can handle my own demons.”

“You shouldn’t have to.”

---