Page 87 of Ezekiel
That was, until Sunday had arrived. Sunday, when we had gotten into Zeke’s car and driven into Zion. Where we had entered the church I had called home. What was once a safe-haven was now this lovely building that served only as a mutated mockery of what it had once been for me. No longer a sanctuary for me to lay my burdens down before the Lord, this place was now a horror show for me. Every voice I heard had me on edge. Was that one of the men? Or maybe it was that man over there. Or perhaps it was one of the Elders. I had no idea. I wanted to know, and I wanted to shut it all out and know nothing all at the same time.
My plan had been to leave; to pack up my things and Zeke’s and flee this place once and for all. I wanted nothing to do with this town, this church, these people. But after some good sleep and a long debate with my husband, Zeke convinced me that, at the very least, we should try to find more information. So we were staying put, at least for now.
When we had walked into the church that Sunday morning, my parents stood immediately inside the sanctuary doors, waiting to greet me. I plastered a smile on my face and had done my best to appear to be the happy newlywed everyone expected me to be. It was the greatest performance of my life.
Knowing what I knew now, I was in utter and complete awe of the Temple brothers and their wives. This charade they put on, day in and day out, was award-winning. I honestly had no idea how they did it every day. They were convincing, that was for certain. Me, I felt inferior as I walked through the church, as I sat beside my husband and parents and listened to Reverend Jacob deliver the day’s sermon. Each word he spoke felt vile and rooted itself in the pit of my stomach, like a poison that threatened to consume me.
How had I not seen it? How had I not realized, even when Zeke had explained it all to me? I was stubborn in my resolve to keep my home. Home. What a complete lie that had been. Now, I was counting down the days until I could leave this place, leave these people, and never look back.
That had been the conversation Zeke and I had fought over for hours after church that Sunday. I wanted to leave. He had convinced me to go along with the rest of the plan, but I wanted a date. I wanted to know exactly how long I would have to walk amongst the monsters who had kidnapped me and taken me from my true parents, from the people who loved me most in this world.
That was the thought that convinced me to stay, though. My real parents. If I left here, where would I go? I wanted to be with Zeke; I knew that much to be true. But I wanted to find my real parents; to reunite with them after all these years and show them I hadn’t perished, that I was safe. But how could I find them? I didn’t know their names, or even where they were. I had nowhere to even start attempting to find them. Jesus, I didn’t even know if Talia was my real name.
Because of that, Zeke had taken to calling me angel almost exclusively. It made me feel safe and whole and not alone. I might not be Talia Parrish, and I may not know who I had been. But today, I was angel. I was Mrs. Zeke Temple. That would be enough for me. At least for now.
“Angel, are you in here?” Zeke called from the hallway, pulling my attention to him and away from the book that lay haphazardly in my lap. I hadn’t read a single word, anyway. I was going through the voices at church and in town again, trying to find one voice, just one, that would spark the memory I needed in order to get answers.
“Hello there,” I answered with a smile as his sweaty form walked into the room. The smile that lit up his face upon seeing me filled me with so much emotion. I loved this man. I had never felt anything like it. Even if I wasn’t ready to say it, it was there, and it was true.
“Are you sure you’re okay with this?” he asked, sitting on the sofa beside me. His hands were immediately on me, just laying on my leg as he spoke. The small measures of comfort he provided me were both adorable and incredibly needed. He was soothing, and he calmed me in a way I couldn’t easily describe.
“With what?” I asked in confusion, closing my book and setting it to the side.
“With having company this afternoon? I don’t want to push you. You were just in town this morning and I know that was a lot, but —” he began, but I raised a hand to halt his words.
“But nothing. Yes, this morning was more taxing than I would have preferred. Going to the grocery store was fine, but visiting my mother was downright brutal,” I admitted with a heavy sigh, still feeling the vestiges of the stress and panic that had flooded every cell in my body while I visited what I had once thought to be my childhood home.
“I just don’t want you to be too stressed, you know? You need to take care of yourself. And when you aren’t able to take care of yourself, that’s where it’s my place to step in and make sure it happens,” he stated with a look that showed me he was being completely serious. That brief statement, a borderline command, had me tingling directly between my thighs.
Over the last week, I felt like I had been on a rollercoaster of emotions, and not just from the trauma. In the first two days after my flashback, every time Zeke had touched me, I had flinched. It wasn’t him. I knew that, but my response was there, regardless. I was so frustrated with it; it had stewed for hours in my mind. Somehow, though, that frustration turned into something completely different. My need for his touch grew, but he was treating me like a piece of glass. I wanted normalcy. I wanted us. I wanted that heat and fire that I had grown to love.
I missed that part of our relationship. Zeke hadn’t touched me since that night. Not sexually. And most definitely not in any kind of kinky way. It was as though he were afraid to touch me, like he thought I was a piece of fragile glass. I might be vulnerable and going through a lot right now, but I was not so easily broken. I just didn’t know how to tell him that. How was one supposed to broach such a subject, exactly?
Hey, hubby, I need you to get all freaky-kinky with me again. Make me quiver, please.Yeah, something told me that wasn’t the way a submissive was supposed to go about asking for her needs to be met.
“I am just fine to have company today, Zeke,” I reassured him, laying a hand on top of his. “Plus, it’s Delilah and Ruth. It’s still a safe place and safe people for me to be around. It’s not the same as going into town.”
“No, I know it’s not, but I just want to make sure I’m taking care of you,” he reiterated with a look. I wanted to roll my eyes at him. I wanted to stand up, stamp my feet, and demand that he stop holding me like a piece of glass. Fuck, I wanted him to spank me, pour wax on me, pull my hair, call me names, something! Anything to find some sense of normalcy again. As it was, this home might feel safe, but it had become a shell of what our marriage had been only a week before. I missed the old us.
“If you’re sure, then I understand. I’m glad you have them to talk to,” he admitted with a smile. That smile made me want to lean forward and just kiss him. I wanted to pull him over on top of me and show him exactly what I wanted. Not very submissive of me, I know.
“What time will they be here?” I asked, just as the doorbell sounded. “Right now, I guess,” I chuckled. I sat up, brushing out the imaginary wrinkles in my dress and pushing the errant strands of hair behind my ears that had come loose from my braid.
“I’ll show them in. Would you like to be in here or in the study? I want to make sure you ladies have the privacy you want,” he questioned. He was so gentle, so kind to me. It was lovely and made me feel loved, but I also wanted my old Zeke back.
“In here will be just fine. Plus, then you’ll have a place to go relax. I know you like to relax there and paint or read,” I voiced, making sure he knew I saw him, just as he saw me. His needs were important. Lately, I could tell he was holding back, not letting his condition get the better of him, even when it was difficult. He was hiding himself from me to protect me, or maybe to just make things easier for me. It was a kind gesture, but I didn’t need that from him. I needed to talk to him. We couldn’t keep going on like this. It wasn’t right. Not for either of us.
“I’ll bring them in here then,” he agreed, leaning forward as he stood to kiss my forehead. Too bad he wasn’t leaning forward to wrap his hand around my throat and make my eyes roll back in my head as his fingers slipped under my panties and into my wet, hot —
“Talia! How are you doing, dear?” Delilah’s voice sounded from the door, startling me for a moment from my hot and heavy little fantasy as it played its way through my mind, tingled down my body and situated itself directly over my clit. My clit, which he had not touched in a week. Why was I so needy for him today? Okay, let’s be honest, it had been the last few days.
“I’m doing well, Lilah. Or at least, as well as can be. How are you?” I asked, patting the seat next to me for her to sit. Ruth gave me a warm smile as she followed her way in, sitting in the chair beside me. They were such sweet women, Delilah, who I had known well for years and Ruth, who I had been around, but was only now really getting to know.
“So, what’s new?” Ruth asked a little awkwardly.
“Um, I’m not really sure how to answer that,” I fumbled through my response.
“How has everything been with the flashbacks?” she asked hesitantly.
