In their eyes, I’m nothing. Nothing.
In their eyes, I’m just another one.
Destroyed, I’m halfway to the door when I hear a scuffle break out on the other side of the glass. I turn back long enough to see Sean’s fist connect with Dominic’s jaw before I fly out of the garage, humiliation pulsing at my temples, blood trickling freely, padding each of my steps.
I don’t bother to pack, and drive through the night.
TWO WEEKS.
That’s what I asked my father for, and he’d granted them to me without an issue. I went straight to Christy, who’d just leased her first apartment in Atlanta. I spent the first week on her couch, crying in her lap as she tried to soothe me with comforting words.
I don’t think Sean wanted to hurt me, not like that, and the fight that broke out seemed to indicate as much. But if he’s that much of a coward, and went along with Dominic’s plan, even entertained it, I can’t allow him to mean anything more to me.
I blame myself. I’d actively taken part in all of it. I’d allowed myself to be passed around like a party favor, all the while begging for more.
And they’d taken and taken, and I’d loved every second of it.
I’ve since spent my time taking long walks around Christy’s complex, trying to pinpoint where I went wrong, and all of it came back down to the beginning, accepting the invitation from Sean the day I met him.
I’d been played up until the last second. Up until they’d shown me just how much.
I don’t know how I expected it all to end, but certainly not like that. If I’m honest with myself, I didn’t see myself picking one over the other, even if presented with the choice. But they’d even taken that away from me.
They tossed me aside like trash. And I’d asked for it. By pining for them both, by letting them between my legs, into my psyche, and my heart.
Christy still has no idea what to say to me. I’ve shared a large part of the relationship details with her, leaving the hood business aside. She’d eaten the details up like it was the most fascinating story, but if I look too close, I can see a little of her condemnation. And I can’t blame her for it. I understand it. I’ve done enough of that to myself to last a lifetime.
I just wish I could regret it.
But the truth is, I can’t. And the sickest part? I still want them. I still love them.
I’m disgusted with myself. How have I become this depraved?
Daily, I still crave their attention, their affection, their strong arms, their kisses, their quirks. I’ve memorized them. But it’s the fresh memory of those seconds I spent in that garage that keeps me outraged.
Between the cloudy haze of my despair, there’s a silver lining. Something is building inside of me that overrules any of these foolish emotions, and it’s the need for retribution, revenge. And if given a chance, I’m determined to take it.
Whether they admit it or not, those men did care for me. For whatever reason they decided to cut ties, cut me, their affection was far too convincing to be completely contrived.
Even if it played out in the cruelest of ways, that affection wasn’t a figment of my fucking imagination. They’d confided in me, treated me with the utmost care. It couldn’t all be a lie. If so, I’ll truly be lost.
Something happened.
Something had to have happened to make them carry out a plan so brutal. Even if Dominic is capable of that type of malice, of masking his feelings so well, which I know he is, Sean is not.
But he deserves just as much of my wrath because he let it happen.
It might not have been love for either of them, but it was something more than sex. Even so, their actions are unforgivable.
For the first time in my life, I take comfort in the fact that I am my father’s daughter. Some part of me is capable of being just as callous, just as reptilian as he is. If I have to channel the blood I continually deny, continually curse, that now runs cold in my veins to become something other than a dangling and bleeding heart, so be it.
“What’s that look?” Christy asks me as I stare unseeing at a little girl playing on the steps of the apartment pool. We’ve been out here for the last few days soaking up the last of the summer sun. The little girl squeals in delight as her mother kneels next to her, reapplying sunscreen on her arms.
I remember playing a game with myself when I was her age, a dangerous game. I often played alone, while my mother was busy entertaining friends or whatever boyfriend joined us that day. I’d dared myself to swim out farther and farther away from safety and eventually found myself in the deep end, over my head and alone, bailing myself out while no one noticed I was drowning. And I’d done it. A second before I knew I was going underwater for the last time; I’d kicked my feet so hard I ended up hitting my head on the lip of the pool. Just before everything went black, I found purchase with my palms on the concrete and pulled myself up to safety before sobbing, hysterical with relief. That’s when my mother finally noticed. I got hugged, and then spanked, hard.