Page 15 of Fatally Yours
He wasn’t August.
He would never be August.
And I was just going to have to live with that.
His hands began to wander, and I felt myself suppress a scream beneath his lips. August would obliterate him if he saw this. But that wasmyissue. That was why we couldn’t be happy. Because all I thought about was what I lost. I felt his fingers wrap in my hair and his breath heavy against my face. My stomach looped like death himself was tying my intestines in knots with his spindly, skeletal hands, but this would lead to something better if all went right—if I stopped being so insufferable.
My nails were biting into the tender flesh of my arm. I felt stiff. This didn’t mean anything to me. This was just… transactional. If I gave in, then he would be nicer. And that was all I really wanted, right? His grasp on me tightened as we separated, and I drew in a breath like I hadn’t taken one in years. His eyes stared past my soul, but we both remained silent as he fumbled with the button on his jeans, making me grimace. I hoped he didn’t see me do that.
If he did, he didn’t say anything. I averted my gaze for a moment as he revealed his member to me, and I swore I was going to throw up right then and there if I had anything in my stomach besides crude acid.
This is wrong.
And it still felt wrong as he forced my head down by my hair, and, out of pure instinct or panic, I opened my mouth to accept him. His hands wove through my locks as he pressed himself further into me, and I felt tears well in the corners of my eyes. This wasn’t assault, but it sure felt like it. It was uncaring and aggressive. Even when August’s strength got out of hand when we were doing the deed, there was never a time when I felt unloved.
He always kissed me, always cared for me, and never insulted me. And I never once felt like he hated me. That was the worst part. I was doing this with someone who despised me. Something that should’ve been sacred and beautiful, an act between two people who dedicated themselves to each other, but this was cheap. This was nothing.
But I endured, even if he smelled a little off, and my throat ached, and Ifelt like my stomach was going to empty itself over his lap, only because I wanted this to fix everything. I prayed it would mend us, but I feared it would end up as fruitless as resurrecting August. Devin curled his nails into my scalp and let out a groan. At least one of us was enjoying this.
“With the way you’re sucking me off, I’d say you like me more than August,” he said. At that moment, I had a hard time not bringing my teeth together and taking his precious manhood from him. Immediately, I grabbed his filthy hands that were holding my head in place and ripped them from my hair. A few strands went with them, but that was nothing compared to the pain of his statement. I shot up from my seat, almost feeling the urge to hit him. Maybe if I weren’t so weak, I would’ve.
“Why the fuck would you say that?!” I screamed, balling my fists at my sides. My entire body felt rigid as red-hot rage coursed through my veins. I swore if someone else were there with me, I really would’ve hit him.
“I-it was just in the heat of the moment, Natasha.” He was clearly taken aback by my outburst. “It didn’t mean anything.” It wasn’t often that I screamed at someone, let alone him, because if I was being honest, a small part of me was wary of him. With good reason, too.
“It means something to me!” My blood was boiling in my veins as I watched him fumbling with his pants. Once he was done, he stood and approached me, and he was lucky I wasn’t a psycho who gave in to impulse and smashed his stupid face in like he deserved.
“Tash—”
“Get the fuck out!” I pointed to the door. He tried to step towards me, but I backed up, not wanting to feel his slimy touch ever again. This was it. There was nothing that could bring us back now. Once upon a time, there might have been good in him, but in one simple sentence, he made me despise him.
“Natasha—”
“Fuck off!” I snapped, finally pressing my palms against him and pushing his body towards the entrance. His feet stumbled along the floor, but I didn’t care. As we reached the door, I pried it open and shoved him over the threshold into the rain as he deserved. He glanced back at me with a scowl.
“You’re such a bitch,” he said as I slammed it in his face. Once I heardhis car pull out of the driveway, the knot in my stomach unfurled, but that emotion was replaced with something much more familiar. My eyes blurred with tears as I sat down again, drawing my knees to my chest and letting out a wail.
Why did he have to die?
There was no reason for any of this to happen. August wasn’t a saint, but he didn’t deserve to die. And I didn’t deserve to have him ripped away from me and be given some replacement who hated me. Because that’s what it was. I realized that now. Devin hated me. August was gone. And I would never be happy again.
My forehead met my knees as my tears dampened my clothes, but I didn’t care. I didn’t bother to wipe my face or wash out my mouth, even though I felt like I needed to. I wanted to scrub out my maw with steel wool until I could gargle my blood and have the memory plucked from my brain, but my legs wouldn’t allow me to move. My entire body trembled with emotion as the movie hummed on, and the rain mocked my sorrow.
As I continued to sob, between all the noise, I could’ve sworn I heard footsteps, but I was too distressed to care. I kept my head buried in my arms and stayed on the couch, knowing that even if there was an invader and it wasn’t just the house creaking, my legs wouldn’t support my weight with how much they shook.
The steps grew closer, confirming that there was something more going on than just the storm making the house rock. My head raised slowly, and I wiped away a tear, hoping to prepare my speech for whoever was here to take my possessions or kill me. I couldn’t think of the proper way to beg for my life, or if I even wanted to continue living at all. What I saw made my face pale, and I leaped to my feet, somehow regaining my bravado despite my unsteady legs.
“Natasha,” August said, his face dark. His tone was grim, and I knew then that my suspicions were correct. He really was going to destroy me.
VII
My gaze stuck to his disheveled dress shirt that was unbuttoned, exposing the tire treads forced upon his skin. His parents picked his attire when they buried him. If it were me, he would’ve looked more like he did in life. Rugged and rebellious, not pretending that was something he wore in everyday life. It felt fake, but I kept my mouth shut. It was hard when everyone was in tears.
His eyes were ringed with dark circles, and the one that was sunken in that day had a ghostly pale hue to it. There was a smear of blood along his lip—blood that I tasted as his life slipped away. Webs of purple veins were pressing against the inside of his skin, but they no longer pulsed withthe vigor of life. He looked like a shadow of who he once was.
I blinked away the tears, thinking my melancholy was now making me delusional. My hands were trembling against my chest. I should’ve been excited if this were all real, but all I felt was dread. The crumpled expression on his ashen face indicated his rage well enough. My throat tightened as I thought about what he could’ve heard or, worse, seen. There would be no forgiveness for such a revolting act, and whatever punishment he would dish out to me would be earned for how filthy I felt.
“You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” he said coldly. My heart began to race like it was going to break through my ribcage and send me to the grave. He expressed no joy at our reunion. There was only the crosshairs of his anger directed at me. My mouth went dry as I struggled to speak through what I hoped wasn’t fear.
