Page 58 of Creep
“Don’t change the subject!”
Do I want to cuddle his perfect body and nuzzle the back of his head all night long? Of course I do. But it just doesn’t seem like a legitimate option.
“No.”
“No?” he growls, sounding like an angry chihuahua.
“No.”
“Fine then,” Angel says in a clipped voice before rolling off the bed and landing on the floor. I’m too startled to respond at first, but then he crawls toward me, under the bed, as if this space full of dust and shadow isn’t beneath him.
He doesn’t belong here just like I don’t belong in the bed. My mind can’t catch up when he joins me in the tight space. He’s an Angel even in name. He shouldn’t be here with the likes of me. My stomach clenches and the scars on my back start itching asif to remind me of my place. But I don’t know how to stop him when he moves closer, until I’m trapped between his fragrant body and the wall, and have nowhere to run.
My heart speeds up, but I take deep breaths, because nothing good will come out of it if I panic. Normally, I’d retreat into the perfect woodland clearing I imagine when meditating, but Angel’s presence drags me right back under the bed.
“Then I’m here with you. Now tell me. Why? Why won’t you join me in bed?”
I stare into his pretty blue eyes, and now that he’s here, I can’t deny him the answers even if it means I need to cut myself open to give them to him.
“I… I’m a monster, Angel. So this is where I belong. Monsters don’t sleep in beds.” I hate how my voice sounds. Like it’s bruised. Unworthy of him.
Iam unworthy of him, but I let myself forget that and soiled his body with my touch. A hole originating deep inside me starts to spread, swallowing every happy memory we’ve shared to date. They were all stolen.
Angel shakes his head, and I freeze when he cups my face, thumb stroking my cheekbone while the other fingers dive into my hair. “What is this nonsense? You’re not a monster. You’re my boyfriend, and I want you with me!”
It’s so much easier to hang out on the sidelines with my brothers or smash someone’s face in than deal with all these… feelings. Angel’s questions poke at wounds that can’t seem to heal, and now they’ll bleed all over his pretty fingers, and he’ll run away.
But if he wants answers…
“I… I was told this is my place. I was left in peace as long as I was under the bed, because that’s where the monsters live.” I’m so ashamed when I meet his eyes. He shouldn’t be here. He shouldn’t be dealing with me, but his eyes are still so kind, histouch so warm when his other hand cups the other side of my face, gently stroking my skin. I want to be touched. So much. I’m sick of the trappings of my own mind.
“By who? Your aunt?”
I nod, finding it hard to speak. “I was allowed either under the bed or… in the wardrobe. If she saw me or heard me, she’d beat me. I’m sorry. You deserve so much better.” I look away because I can’t bear his kindness. After all he saw me do, he’s here with me, wanting to listen while I feel sorry for myself.
He takes a deep breath and leans in, pressing his warm forehead to mine.
In the dark, it’s somehow a bit easier to talk.
“But… you killed her, because you knew she was wrong. Why would you still believe anything she told you?”
“Because she was right. I was born rotten, a tool for the devil, and then I proved it. I killed her. She always said I was a monster, so I figured I might as well act like one. I don’t have a moral compass. I’m a bad… thing, Angel. With or without her. I’m a killer, a criminal, and yeah, a creep who’s into perverted shit. So I don’t belong on the bed.”
Even saying this much feels like pulling up the blade of my own guillotine, because I know I’m about to lose the tiny sliver of joy I’ve managed to steal from Angel. But he needs to know the truth. I can’t lie to him, even if it means he will never speak to me again.
I don’t deserve anyone pure, and kind, and beautiful as him.
He takes in a shivery inhale, still holding on to my face, still so very close I could take hours to describe the scent lingering on his skin and hair. It’s fresh, with a distant note of jasmine, and the sweetness of honey. If I were worthy, I would make out with him all night. I would kiss every inch of his body and lick him between the toes, but—
A sob escapes his lips, and when he pushes his face closer, his damp cheek rubs against mine. “I’m sorry… that is so horrible…”
“Oh no no no, don’t cry, don’t cry!” I don’t know what to do, so I… hug him?
I pull him close and hold him, despite my instincts fighting it. This isn’t forme, I tell myself, it’s to soothe him. Then my mind suggests there’s nothing I do can achieve that, but I’m already holding him close, sliding my hand over the back of his head, and it feels so,sogood. Like when he hugged me on the bike and I took a detour so it could last longer. Every inch of me craves this touch despite the fucked up storm of emotions within me.
Just like that, we’re close, and I’m tasting the salt of his tears when he strokes my face over and over, as if he needs to remember its shape. “It just makes me so sad… everything you’ve been through. You didn’t deserve that. You deserved someone who would love you and nurture you, and protect you. But I can’t reverse the past and take you out of there…”
“Please don’t waste your tears on me, precious. You’ve done so much for me already. Given me so much.” Now that I’m holding him, I don’t want to let go, and that’s the monster speaking. Offer him a finger, and he’ll take the hand. I slide my arms over his back. Sure, I’ve touched him before, but it feels different now. I know he was just pretending to sleep, I know heallowedit, but to have him here? In my darkness? Giving into my touch so freely?
