Page 19 of Ezekiel
“So the sounds of people eating bother you?”
“It’s more than that for me. It’s loud, abrasive noises, the sounds of eating and food, and just incessant noise in general. Whether that be lots of people talking, cabinets slamming. Hell, even just seeing certain foods can trigger a response for me at times, just because of the trauma I’ve gone through with it.” She digested my words, processing what I was saying. “I try not to make a big deal of it, as much as I can. But by removing myself from the situation — which is the best option for me — I have portrayed myself as a weirdo, or something, here in Zion.”
“Zeke, I’m so sorry,” she said softly, laying her hand over mine in a gesture of comfort.
“Don’t be sorry. It is what it is,” I shrugged again, feeling uncomfortable under her pity.
“Is there anything that can be done? Mercy, the reception at our wedding must have been absolutely torturous for you,” she said, almost to herself as realization hit. I didn’t want her pity. I didn’t want to be looked down on like some sick dog.
“I can do nothing beyond what I’m already doing. Removing myself from the situation. It’s the easiest and fastest way to calm the anxiety down,” I explained.
“The anxiety?”
“Yes. It manifests like severe anxiety. I will feel overwhelmed, overstimulated, and just completely out of control. Sometimes it feels like my skin is crawling. Other times, it’s like a panic attack. Sometimes it’s both and more. It all depends on the situation.” I wanted to look away, to run away from this conversation. The anxiety was already beginning, just by talking about it. But I forced myself to stay.
“But what can be done?” she asked again, squeezing my hand. Her thumb made soothing patterns over the back of my own.
“That’s it,” I said again, shrugging.
“I’m sorry. My turn to rephrase. What can other people do? You know? To help you.” Her words stunned me. No one had dared ask what was wrong with me, always assuming. I had never dreamed of someone asking what they could do to help, but here she was, surprising me once again.
“I honestly don’t even know how to answer that.”
“Then let’s move on to the next question, but if you ever think of something that can be done, please tell me.” Her open honesty and willingness to support me had me stunned, almost speechless. But it was my turn for a question. I realized I didn’t really have a question. I had loads of things to tell her, but no more questions.
“I don’t have a question, but I do have things I think I need to come clean about,” I spoke honestly. “Why don’t you ask the rest of your questions, and then I’ll tell you?” I offered, hopeful she would take the idea.
“Okay, well, my next question would be, why did you say what you said? Earlier? Before we… well…” she trailed off. Delightfully embarrassed.
“The part about not knowing why I married you?” I filled in the blank she had left. She nodded. I flipped my hand over in hers, intertwining our fingers. It was an outrageously intimate gesture and so very much unlike me. I was not an intimate person. Sure, I did incredibly sensual and sexual things with the submissives I played with, but intimacy was a whole other beast. “Well, I said it in frustration and anger. I shouldn’t have. I apologize. To tell the truth, I married you because it was arranged. The same reason you married me. Our parents thought we would be a good match, so here we are.”
It was the simplest version of the truth.
“Even that part doesn’t make sense to me.” She rolled her eyes, causing me to wonder.
“What do you mean by that?”
“If I’m being honest, why were we picked? What made our parents choose each other for… well, each other?” Her question was insightful. I’d give her that.
“That poses a very fair question, Talia. I’m not sure. What were you told about me before our wedding?” I asked, genuinely curious.
“All I was told was that you were a son of Elder Temple, and as such, I would have certain obligations as your wife.”
“That’s it? That’s all they said?” This place was idiotic. I ran my hand over my forehead, feeling the frustration welling up again. Her thumb began moving over my hand again, that soft soothing gesture. “If I’m being honest, which is the whole point of this conversation, I don’t think our parents put one bit of thought into our match other than politics.”
I had expected her to question my words, to ask me what I meant. Something of that nature. Instead, she simply nodded her head knowingly. She was a bright girl.
“Do you regret marrying me?” she asked, casting her eyes down to our joined hands. This time it was me who ran my thumb over her skin in soothing swirls.
“I don’t. Honestly, I don’t. It’s difficult for me, with my issues, but I don’t regret it.” Her head popped back up, looking into my eyes. Christ, her eyes were gorgeous.
Stay focused, Zeke. You still haven’t told her you’re a kinky fucker.
“Any more questions?” I urged, wanting to assuage her concerns.
“Why did you not come to our bed last night?” she asked. I could feel the weight behind her words. It was not an easy question to ask. Fuck, it wasn’t an easy one to answer, either.
“It’s complicated, but I was overwhelmed. Talia, I didn’t know what to do. Between the sheer overstimulation being surrounded by so many voices and sounds and such and then the whole after ceremony bullshit—” My words cut off. How was I supposed to say how I felt about that, when I didn’t even know for sure? I looked at her, into those big sapphire eyes. “All I knew last night was that I felt dirty. I felt wrong for having committed such offenses against you. I don’t care who sanctioned it, who commanded it, or whatever. It was wrong. You didn’t deserve to go through such a thing in front of a bunch of old men. It was —”
