Page 40 of Sparks of Insanity
I’d been sober now for more than a year this time, but a drink of something would help. It’d help me find clarity, or alternatively, it’d numb everything, so I could just remember how to breathe and relax. I knew I shouldn’t. Falling off the wagon would only put me back in that cycle of addiction, and desperately needing the next drink, and the next, until I was permanently intoxicated, and yet free.
I struggled to stand up, reminding myself of that burn between my legs, and I dragged the blanket up and away from there, to see if there was blood, because something had been trickling down my leg, something liquid. There was a pinkish fluid, and it had dripped down my legs in a few places, partially drying here and there. It made me feel dirty and sticky and disgusting.
My desperation for a drink was suddenly overridden by the need to get clean, so I headed for the bathroom, dropping the bedding in the doorway before I switched on the water and stepped into the cubicle. I grabbed the bottle of body-wash left there by the actual occupants, and started scrubbing my skin, trying to cleanse myself of the mess he’d left on me, and the mess of my mind, all at once.
Ethan
I COULDN'T FACE WHAT I’d done. Couldn’t face the fact that I’d forced that sweet, troubled girl into taking my cock, taking my cum, and I didn’t even give her pleasure in return. At least if she’d enjoyed it, I could try to reconcile it in my mind, because it’d be a reminder that she had in fact chosen it, and asked me to continue despite her despair.
What kind of asshole keeps fucking a girl when she’s sobbing, and trying to fight him off? What kind of monster abuses consent in that way? Maybe she was never emotionally capable of giving that consent in the first place. She’d been abused. She’d grown up in that insane house, with god only knows what kind of influences, and she’d been forced into things at such a vulnerable age.
I had to focus on what I could do to try and make things right. Starting with finding those fucking keys. I’d dragged on some clothes from my bag, and headed outside to try and retrace my steps. I roughly knew the point on the small dirt road where I’d taken the keys and thrown them, because while I wanted her to think all hope was gone, I wasn’t stupid enough to know we wouldn’t need them back at some point. I was just reckless enough to fucking throw them though, wasn’t I?
I climbed over the fence into the field belonging to some farmer, hoping it wasn’t inhabited by a fucking bull or something. Did I watch the keys arc in the darkness? Well, no, I couldn’t fucking see, but I knew roughly the direction or the angle, so I just had to do it like the police do, checking inch by inch, foot by foot, until I had to be upon them.
The torch I’d found in the kitchen was flashing back and forth, to try and pick up a glint of light rebounding from metal, butnothing was catching the light, and after about thirty or forty minutes of desperate searching, I had to accept the fact that I wasn’t fucking finding them before morning.
I retraced my steps to the small house, letting myself back inside, and that’s when I found Ember, curled up on the sofa, wearing someone’s damn robe, and with a tall glass of something she probably shouldn’t have. In fact, it was a mostly empty glass.
I stalked across the room and grabbed it, taking a sip of the last little bit of the clear liquid, praying it was water. It wasn’t, though. In addition to forcing myself on a troubled girl, and stealing her virginity, I’d also pushed a fucking alcoholic back off the wagon.FUCK.
I threw the glass across the room, ignoring the sound of glass shattering, as I grabbed her arms and dragged her up from the sofa, getting in her face, while she grinned belligerently back at me. Fuck me. Why didn’t I realise she’d look for some kind of fucking escape from what I did?
“How much have you had?” Ember shrugged, looking like she didn’t give a fuck, even though her face was still pink, and her eyes puffy from crying. Her hair was wet, and she smelled fresh and clean, because of course she’d run to the bathroom to wash away my touch. My inner bastard was already wanting to put my touch back all over her, but I fought back the urge, shaking her lightly in my grip.
“What the fuck have you done!” She giggled, her lips trembling, finally opening her other hand, which I hadn’t even noticed was clenched and bleeding.
“It was that, or this,” she whispered, as I plucked a bloody razor blade from her palm.A razor blade. She’d been this close to something that could end her life, and for that one reason alone, I was glad she’d picked alcohol instead.
“Did you hurt yourself? Em, look at me. Did you fucking cut yourself?”
She giggled again, lifting her bleeding hand again, revealing several cuts on the inside of her fingers, and her palm.
“It stings, Ethan, but not as much as my pussy does. You forced your big man dick in me, and it still hurts.” Without my grip on her arms, she staggered back a step, almost falling over the small coffee table, and I barely caught her.
I pushed her back down to sit on the sofa and dropped down beside her, taking her cut hand in both of mine, carefully checking it over, while I cursed myself for causing all this damage to this fragile young girl.
Legally she wasn’t a kid anymore, but I sometimes wondered how much her abuse had stunted her mental and emotional development. Here was a prime example of why I should have kept pushing her away. Drunk, or halfway there at least, gripping a razor blade so tightly that she’d cut her hand, and she didn’t even seem to notice at the time.
I led her to the bathroom, finding some first aid supplies to clean the cuts, and patch them up with a few plasters wrapped around the fingers.
Em giggled softly, seeming to stagger on the spot as I finished up, and gently kissed her palm.
“I’m sorry, baby. I never wanted to hurt you like this. I should have refused, but I just wasn’t man enough.”
She shrugged, dragging me back toward the bedroom we’d mostly made a mess of, dropping down onto the bed, and seeming to fall asleep almost instantly.
With no other options, and unwilling to leave her alone in case she got sick, I retrieved the bedding from the hallway floor, and climbed onto the bed behind her, spooning myself around her, and covering us both up for the night.
24
Ember
I’d like to saywe slept in after our late night, or that we woke up gently at least, but we didn’t. Someone was banging on the door and yelling, and as we both shot upright in the bed, our eyes met, and I saw the horror I felt reflected on Ethan’s face.
I recognised my dads’ voices, and I knew he did too. How the hell did they find us? Oh my god, they’d kill him.
I wasn’t as naïve as they seemed to believe. I knew my dads weren’t normal dads, and I knew they had dark sides, because it was impossible to live in a house with them, and not be aware that they had darker souls than they tried to let us see.
