Fear clutched at my throat as I second guessed myself, worrying over every word I’d said, what I’d demanded. I hated that as a woman, I felt guilty and sick for asking for what I deserved, hated that it was some part of my DNA to be quiet. To submit.
I’d submitted to Jay in many ways. Almost every way. But I couldn’t do it this way. I’d hate myself for it in the end.
He placed his knife and fork together on his plate before pushing it away so he could focus on me. As if he hadn’t been before.
“You know about my parents,” he said.
I nodded, thinking about the cold, emotionless way he’d spoken of them months ago. Thinking about how many of the scars on his body belonged to them. And the ones on his soul, for that matter. Yes, I knew about his parents. And if they were put in front of me right now, I’d be sorely tempted to cut them to pieces with a butter knife.
“I won’t go into any more detail about my time with them,” he continued, his eyes dark. “They are not worth the air it takes to speak of them. I won’t give that to them. Suffice it to say, what they did to me when I was a child laid the groundwork for the man I am today.” He made it clear by his tone that he found that man lacking.
I gritted my teeth and wished I could tell him how wrong he was. That he was magnificent, in his own warped and twisted way. That I’d fallen in love with him for the man he was, not whoever he thought he should’ve been. But I couldn’t speak. It wasn’t time for that. I needed to listen instead, despite how hard it was to hear what Jay thought of himself.
“And as soon as I considered myself a man, I left,” Jay continued. He reached forward to grasp my hand, as if he couldn’t help himself.
I was glad for the contact, and my body relaxed ever so slightly.
“Sure, I could’ve fought back. Could’ve killed them. They deserved it, of course. It wasn’t humanity, love or a conscience that stopped me.” He rubbed my hand with his thumb. “I was capable of taking their lives, of living with myself afterward. But leaving them trapped in their miserable lives, inside of themselves, seemed to be more of a punishment than the mercy that death offered.”
My breathing was shallow and rapid, listening to Jay speak, his thumb rubbing rhythmically. I was hanging on his words, soaking them up. His tone was flat, cold, but his eyes were still on fire.
He stood then, letting me go, and I couldn’t help but let out a little mewl of protest, losing his contact and proximity. Jay’s face softened at the sound that humiliated me. He leaned forward to stroke my jaw before straightening and walking away. I had to steel myself from getting up, following him like a desperate shadow. I did check out his ass as he moved, then the streaks of blood mingled with the scars on his back.
Jay had gone over to the bar cart, the clink of glasses telling me he was pouring drinks. I watched the muscles in his back move, rippling in the shadows and the dim light coming from the kitchen.
He came back, two glasses in his hands, eyes on me. I thankfully took the glass he extended. I definitely needed it, even though I wasn’t a whisky girl. Whisky was the only thing you could drink at three in the morning when the love of your love was telling you about his bloodstained past.
Jay sat down, took a sip of his whisky, placed it down on the table and reached for my hand. I sighed in relief.
“I was homeless at fifteen,” he continued. “I didn’t have friends or family to take me in. No one wanted to take in someone like me. I was dirty. Had something sinister about me, even then. I scared people. Scared my parents, which is partially why they did what they did to me. A very small part, to be sure. The rest of it was because they were pure fucking evil. Nothing else. No bad childhoods, traumas. They were just two rotten souls drawn to each other.”
He took a drink while I stared at him in horror, knowing that this was the beginning, the prologue. We hadn’t even gotten to chapter one yet.
“Had twenty-two dollars to my name,” he said. “I already knew that I wouldn’t be able to walk into a fucking McDonalds and get a job. Wouldn’t get anything legitimate. As fucked up as I was, I was still a dumb kid. As evil as my parents were, I wasn’t prepared for the world. Or maybe I thought it couldn’t possibly be as cruel as the life I lived. Ignorance mixed with hope. Deadly cocktail.”