I’m having nightmares again every night. I told Mother but she only snapped again, snarking that I should have grown out of them by now. I still haven’t told the bitch they’re always about her. She gave me some cash to sort out the shrink again, but I’m not going back there. I just wish I could sleep.
I spied Kyle typing his laptop password last night. Ladyluck69. There’s something about him I don’t get. He’s so serious all the time, but he never talks about his past, just comes and goes from work every day like he never had a life before this. I checked out his laptop but only for a minute while he was in the shower. He watches pornography A LOT, maybe even as much as me. If only he knew what I was really like. Maybe then he’d realise he married the wrong woman.
* * *
A few pages on…
* * *
I’m fucking a million randoms again. I can’t stop myself. I need to get HIM out of my system. It’s been ten times worse since I saw his porn stash. I look at it whenever I get the chance, like some weird crazy stalker. He’s so dirty, maybe even dirtier than I am. He’s watched this one video about twenty times, and it’s so fucking dark. A young blonde gets tied up in some basement and fucked by five different men. It’s one of the roughest vids I’ve ever seen. She takes two cocks in her ass and it actually makes her cry. They call her dirty names, and choke her and spit all over her, but you know what? She likes it. I know she likes it, I can see it in her eyes.
Just like he’d see it in mine.
I went to college for the first time in months. They’re threatening to chuck me out now, but I don’t give a shit. I didn’t go in for lectures today, just for cock. I sucked two at once outside our student canteen – two of the nerdy guys from library club. I stuffed their cocks in my throat until I retched up my dinner, and the whole time I wished he could see me, see what a dirty girl I really am.
Kyle’s all I think about. I just wish he’d be the big, dark daddy I want him to be. Maybe one day he will be, if I push him far enough.
Maybe one day he’ll lose his temper and put me in a basement. I’d love him to tie me up and fuck me until I cry. A girl can dream, can’t she?
* * *
I slammed the book closed, recoiling from its brutal honesty. My hands were shaking and clammy, and my insides were mushed up to shit. I wished I’d never read the thing, wished I’d never reacted in the kitchen and smacked the shit out of her. I wished I’d never met her, never met her mother, never been in Kefalonia in the first place.
No. That was a lie. I didn’t regret it.
But I may well regret what was yet to come.
I left her diary open on her bed.
The time for secrets was over.
I was staring at my bedroom ceiling when the front door slammed. I checked the bedside clock. Two thirty a.m. The clattering around downstairs made it clear she was drunk again, but I made no attempt to go down to her. I was still wide awake when she made her way to bed, hardly breathing as I heard her moving around in the room next door. Finally, she was quiet.
I must have been dozing when my bedroom door creaked open.
“Kyle?” she whispered. “Are you awake?”
I grunted, loud in the night. “I am now.”
Her scent hit me, dark cherry and vanilla. “You read my diary.”
“You wanted me to,” I replied, simply.
“I had a nightmare,” she said, moving closer. The air was like static, crackling in the space between us. “A bad one. You must have read about them?”
I cursed the blood in my veins, cursed the way I wanted her. “You’re safe, Aimee, nothing can hurt you, not in this house.”
“It can,” she whispered. “Everything hurts me in this house.” I stayed silent, willing her away. “Can I lay with you? Just a while.”
“This is a bad idea, sweetheart. You know it as well as I do.”
“Please...” she said.
She was so close, hovering by the bed in the darkness, illuminated by only the faintest glow from the streetlamps outside. I hated my own fingers as they pulled back the duvet. Hated my own hammering pulse, and the way I craved to consume her. She slid in beside me, clutching her knees to her chest to keep her distance.
“I’m sorry I’m such a bitch to you. I’m a bitch to everyone.”
“So, choose not to be,” I said. “Nobody makes you do anything.”