Scars: Book One (20 page)

I
scowled at him.

Arrogant
cunt…

I
watched as he threw the covers back over himself and settled his head down on
the pillow. The smugness on his face was unmistakable. After a few seconds of
practically panting with indignation, I made the wisest decision I could ever
make. I chose the door.

I
started to pull on clothes haphazardly as I walked toward the closet to get my
bag. My hands grabbed for whatever they could reach quickly before shoving them
into the bag, and then I headed to the bathroom for my toiletries. Aaron was
sitting up in bed by this stage, watching me with no expression. When I emerged,
he shook his head at me.

“You’re
a child. Throwing a tantrum because you don’t get your own way?”

I
stopped my actions to glare at him. “You’re no better than me. The only
difference is that your tantrums are cruel and hurtful.”

He
laughed, which only served to fuel my anger. “Where is your gratitude for
everything I’ve done for you?”

I
let the bag drop to my feet. “Gratitude? You’re crazy. What have you
ever
done for me except give me somewhere to stay?”

He
watched me for a second before speaking. “Michael Emerson, obese loser, music
major, virgin for sure, liked to watch his roommate naked in the shower through
a tiny camera, also liked to wank on her bed…currently rotting in a national
park somewhere.”

My
mouth dropped open. “What did you do?” His eyes held mine, but he didn’t speak.
I ran toward the bed and jumped on him so I straddled him, pushing him flat
down, and he let me. “What did you do?”

“You
know. Don’t make me spell it out.” His whole demeanor was so calm in comparison
to my rapidly beating heart.

I
moved off him, sitting beside him and hugging my knees. I felt him return to
his sitting position. It was a moment before I could look at him. “Why did you
do that?” My voice cracked slightly.

“You
know why.”

“Do
I?” My voice sounded so lost and small. I didn’t fight when he took one of my
hands in his.

“You
belong to me and he fucked with you. It’s simple.”

I
laughed but it was devoid of any humor. “Are you going to…hurt… anyone that
fucks with me? Because I saw my Mom today, and she’s just the same selfish
bitch as ever. Are you going to hurt her?” Tears had started to run down my
cheeks by now. “Because that would kill me. I hate her, I do. But if anything
ever happened to her. I think I’d die.”

His
hand cupped my cheek as his thumb gently rubbed over my cheekbone. “Not if you
didn’t want me to. Do you know why I like it when everyone in your life craps
on you? Your mother, your boyfriend, your roommate, Nora…Because every time
they do something to you, it drives you closer to me.” He brushed aside one of
my tears.

“That’s
not normal,” I whispered.

He
gave me a sad smile. “What about us is normal, Rachel? Nothing. I know I may
scare you sometimes, but deep down I think that you’re as attached to me as I
am to you.”

“Is
that a declaration of love?” I spat.

“What’s
love got to do with anything? I’m a good provider. You work because you feel
the need to be independent, that’s all. I protect you. What else is there?”

I
pulled away, biting my lip and swinging my legs over the side of the bed so I
could stand, albeit unsteadily. I grabbed the bag and swung the strap over my
shoulder. I turned back at him before I walked out the door.

“We’re
both just so wrong. We shouldn’t even
exist.
”

Before
I reached the door, he called out, “I still have that list you made me. I can
make every man who ever hurt you pay.”

I
stopped mid-step.

“I
know it won’t make anything better. It doesn’t take away the hurt,” he
continued.

I
looked back at him. “Then what’s the point?”

He
bit his lip quickly as if trying to stop from saying something, but then he
released it. “It would make me feel better. I know that’s selfish.”

I
started to laugh; a laughter mixed with tears as he stared at me, confusion
apparent. The bag dropped to the ground, and I sat on the edge of the bed,
holding myself and still laughing.

“I
think that’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me,” I managed to say
finally. “How pathetic is that?” I felt his hand stroke my hair, and I turned
toward him. “You’re a monster. How can the only person I have to look after me
be a
monster?”

He
didn’t answer, and I couldn’t read whatever was in his eyes. I felt defeated as
I stripped off my clothes and crawled under the sheets again. He didn’t speak
to me, or touch me. In the dark, I said, “I’ll never forgive you for the
horrible things that you’ve done to me.”

“No,
I don’t expect that you will,” he said simply.

As
we lay side by side in the dark, I saw the moon glow through the window; its
beauty far away and untouchable. It made me realize that this was really a
glass prison; another purgatory just like the farmhouse. But it would do, for
now.