I take a trembling breath and let it out. “She came to my room one night. I was in that place right before sleep, you know what I mean? Right in the twilight. It wasn’t unusual for her to come snuggle into bed and I figured that’s what she was doing. But instead, she got up on top of me, straddling me, and pinned me down with her weight. She was ten, I was eight. I didn’t understand what was happening until—”
I close my eyes, trying not to cry more. Reliving that experience is like jabbing a piece of jagged glass into my chest. But in some ways, it’s cathartic, working out some of this pain. And if there’s anything I’ve learned from Emilio, it’s that sometimes pain can feel good, too. Pain can heal, wash away, start over.
“It’s okay,” he says and puts an arm over my shoulders. “You can say it.”
“I could see it in her eyes. They were flat and dead. The demon had her and I was so scared as she wrapped her fingers around my throat. She didn’t smile. She didn’t talk. She strangled me. It wasn’t playful. It wasn’t gentle or curious or whatever. She wrapped her hands around my throat and dug her fingers into my flesh and squeezed as hard as she could. I felt something break inside my neck and I guess it was my voice box, that’s how hard she squeezed.” I have to stop. My heart’s racing and I feel like my brain’s about to explode. I never talk about this—never, not ever, not even once. I’ve never told anyone this story.
But Lucy’s gone, and I think Emilio might be the only person in the world that could possibly understand me right now.
“I almost blacked out,” I say after a long pause to gather myself. “Her face turned red and her eyes stayed wide. I remember the eyes the most. She just kept staring at me and instead of fear or anger, she was just curious and detached. Like she desperately wanted to watch me die. She kept going and going and I felt myself drifting, my head spinning, my ears were burning and buzzing and ringing, and my vision tunneled—but then she stopped. She released me and I rolled off the bed, coughing and gagging, and she stood there watching the whole time, just watching as I threw up blood all over the carpet. That’s why my voice sounds like this. My sister almost killed me one night for no reason, and I’ve never talked about it since.”
He hugs me tight. I want to cry but there’s nothing left. We sit in silence, only birds, the ocean, and bugs buzzing. The smell of salt and plant life is thick in the air. He breathes my smell deep and sighs. “I’m sorry,” he says after a while. “I know that doesn’t help, but I’m sorry. I don’t know what it must’ve been like, growing up with her.”
“She wasn’t that bad—” I start, but I stop myself. I squeeze my eyes shut and let out a breath. “She was a nightmare. I was scared out of my mind for my entire childhood. I knew something was wrong with her since we were little but nobody seemed to notice, not my parents, not our teachers. Only I could see her demon, and I even managed to convince myself it didn’t exist for long stretches, only for it to come back again.”
“That’s what you called it?”
I nod, chewing my thumbnail. “She was so sweet sometimes, when the demon didn’t have her. I really loved her and I think she loved me, or as much as she could love anyone. But she had these moments where it was like her normal self disappeared and was replaced by a total monster.”
“I think I know what you mean.”
“I don’t understand it. I never could make sense of it. When the demon had her, I just tried to run away or hide, but Lucy always found me. She was clever and strong and ruthless, and I never stood a chance, you know?” I shudder and shake my head. “Sometimes I wish I’d told my parents, but then I don’t know if they would’ve done anything or if there was anything they could’ve done to begin with. Now she’s gone and I don’t know how to process what she did to me. Did I love her? Did she love me? Or was it just some sick and twisted relationship that broke me forever?”
I start to cry again and he pulls me tighter against him, hugging hard. “You’ll be okay,” he says quietly. “I know you don’t believe it and I know that doesn’t help, but you will be.”
“I just wish I could’ve asked her a hundred different things, but now I’ll never know.”
He sighs and runs his fingers through my hair gently stroking me. “I know what you mean. There are a lot of things about my childhood I wish I could understand. Like the scars on my back.”
I sniffle awkwardly and glance up at him. “You don’t have to tell me something just because I shared with you.”
“No, I want to.” He smiles and rips some of the grass from the ground. “It’s not as bad as you might think. My father and one of my uncles got into a confrontation one night while we were having a bonfire, I was around ten at the time. I tried to break it up and make it stop, but I got shoved into the firepit and fell right on my back. They grabbed me out of the flames pretty fast but the coals were already stuck to my skin. I’ll never forget the agony as my father tried to brush it away in a panic and the coals ripped out pieces of my flesh. That’s why I have the scars. And it’s why I never go near the firepits when we have them on the beach.”
“I never noticed that.”
“I’m careful not to show it, but I’m not a fan of those things, not after falling into one.” He smiles tightly and stares at the water. “It feels good to share. I don’t like talking about my family much because everyone assumes I grew up with a bunch of abusive monsters. And in some ways, they were really hard to be with, but I was loved. I knew they cared for me. I can’t guess how it felt to think your father never thought of you and your sister wanted to choke you to death.”
“It gets normal after a while.” I try on a smile and he grins back. We sit close like that until he leans down and brushes his lips against my neck.
“You’re strong, you know,” he whispers. “Look at you. You survived the nightmare, and you still came out here looking for more. There aren’t many people capable of something so brave and painful.”
“I don’t feel strong. I feel like I’ve been running away my whole life.”
“You’re not running now.” He runs his fingers into my hair and tightens. “You’re here, pet. You’re with me.”
His lips find mine. Suddenly, all the anguish, all the anger and fear, I’m able to shove it away. I can’t make it disappear—I don’t think it’ll ever go away—but I can quiet it. I can mute the sorrow.
The desire that rolls down my spine helps a lot.
I shift my weight and straddle him. He sits up straighter and I feel him stiffen between my legs. I’m sick of living my life in fear, always terrified of what might happen, what people might think of me, what I might think of myself. I want to feel good for once, and being with Emilio’s the only thing I’ve ever found that overwhelms the self-loathing I feel deep inside.
I moan into his lips and move my hips slowly. It’s not the same as it was before, it’s not the white-hot flash of sudden and intense need, but that’s good. This is a slower burn, a passion that builds and builds. He senses it, or maybe he feels it the way I do. He kisses me deeply and slowly, kisses my neck, peels my top off, licks the sweat from my breasts and growls his delight. He teases my nipples and bites my lower lip and pulls my hair tightly.
“You’re here,” he says as he shifts and takes my shorts off. He’s not wearing underwear, and his running bottoms slip down with ease, revealing his thick cock, already stiff with need. “You’re right here with me now, pet. You don’t have to think. You only have to feel.”
“Emilio.” He bites my lower lip. I grind down against his cock and gasp as his fingers dip along my pussy, teasing my wet folds. Pleasure rips into my mind and I moan as he slides inside of me.
I move down his shaft until he’s filling me to the brim. I kiss him slow and linger there, feeling his size between my legs, letting the feeling of his skin inside my slick pussy chase out any lingering sorrow before I start to ride him. He grips my ass and hips, and I work up and down, moving faster, moaning as I do it.