Page 67 of Cruel Love
Pain gripped my stomach, pulling me from a deep sleep snuggledagainst the warmth of James’ body. As I shifted, there was a familiar sticky feeling between my legs, and I knew instinctively what it was.
Doing my best to not disturb him, I pulled out of his embraceand tiptoed naked to the bathroom where I grabbed some tissue to wipe myself. Sure enough, my period had started.
A mixture of emotions coursed through me. Relief, because I was inno way ready to have a child, not when I was barely an adult myself. But relief was mixed with disappointment. My body had let Jamesdown, and I knew he would be furious.
Strangely, the disappointment outweighed the relief. I didn’t like theidea of failing him. The more time I spent with James, the more a need to please him grew within me. I didn’t know how that had happened when I was so determined to hold onto my hate for him, yet there I was, disappointed that I wasn’t carrying his child.
As I searched through the cupboards to grab the tampons Edith hadbrought me last month, I wondered how on earth I couldn’t be pregnant given the amount of times James had fucked me.
Was there something wrong with me?
What if I couldn’t actually have children? Surely, James wouldn’t wantme if I couldn’t give him what he wanted.
The thought left a bitter taste in my mouth.
Finding the tampons, I showered and cleaned myself upbefore using one. With a towel wrapped around me, I stepped back into the bedroom, freezing on the spot when my gaze found James sitting upright in bed. Ice descended through my veins as I watched him stare down at thepatch of blood where I’d been sleeping. It hadn’t even occurred to me that I may have bled onto the sheets.
His head lifted to me, his dark eyes finding mine.“You’vestarted your period.”It wasn’t a question because the undeniable answer was staring him in the face.
Words lodged in my throat as trepidation crawled around my body. Inodded my head and braced myself for his fury. He tore his eyes from me and stared down at the bedding again, thunderous clouds gathering in his orbs.
After a few seconds, he got out of bed and pulled his boxers onbefore marching over to the door, avoiding my gaze.“I’ll get Edith to change the bedding,”he said, his tone void of any emotion.
I swallowed. I knew the right thing to do was to let him go, but thepang of guilt that I’d disappointed him was growing to epic proportions, and I didn’t want him to leave being angry at me.
“Please don’t be mad at me.”The words caught in my throat, and Iregretted speaking the minute they left my mouth.
James paused. He kept his back to me for a few seconds before heabruptly turned and charged across the room to where I hovered, his hands balled into fists by his side. My entire body tensed as he stopped only an inch away from me, hisnostrils flaring, and the storm clouds in his eyes now swirling like a hurricane. When he raised his hand, I couldn’t help but flinch, waiting for a strike to come.
He froze.
I held my breath.
His brows furrowed, hurt flashing in his eyes as he lowered his hand.“Did you think I was going to hit you?”
Tears stung my eyes at hearing the devastation in his voice. He’dnever hit me before. Sure, he was rough during sex, he’d hurt me several times when he fucked me, but he’d never hit me, so I wasn’t sure why I thought he was going to strike me then.
Maybe because I was so used to being beaten any time I was seenas a disappointment.
“I amnotmy father,“ he gritted out venomously.
“I’m sorry,”I replied, my voice small in the enormous room.
His jaw clenched as he towered over me, his eyes hardening. Aheavy tension crackled between us before he looked away.“No, I’m not mad. It is what it is.”
He turned away and headed back to the door. Hurt still laced his tone,and guilt rushed through me, his words from the night before ringing in my ears. His father had beaten his mom, and James had said he was more like his father than he’d wanted to admit.
When he’d said that, I’d wanted to tell him that he wasn’t anything likehis father. That his dad was a cold, heartless man, incapable of love.But the words just wouldn’t come, and as his breaths became deep and even, telling me he’d fallen asleep, I lay awake in the safety of his arms wishing I’d told him that he was nothing like his father.
Because he wasn’t.
Yes, James could be cruel. He’d shown that side of himself time andtime again. But he had another side to him. A side that he was slowly showing the closer we became. If he was like his father, he would have left me to die in the woods. He wouldn’t have stood up for me when his father demanded I show my scars. He wouldn’t whisper words of possession when he was buried deep inside me.
“James, wait,”I called before I could take the coward’s way out asecond time.
He stopped at the door, his head turning to look over his shoulder, buthe didn’t meet my eyes, instead, keeping them focused on the plush carpet.
I took a hesitant step forward, chewing my lip as I thought about whatI wanted to say. What I wanted him to hear.“I was taught to be quiet. To not be seen or heard. To not speak unless spoken to,”I said, saying the words that had churned over in my head until sleep had claimed me. He finally met my eyes, a crease pulling between his brows.“I was a ghost, but being a ghost has its benefits. You learn without interruption. You get to see people for who they truly are.”
