“It’s the way it is. You will do what’s best for your children just like I’m doing what’s best for you and your sister.” I’m well aware he left my mother out of that statement. I know where she stands.
Getting up, I turn and leave his study, ending the conversation. I enter my room to find it empty. Rushing into the adjoining bathroom, I shove the door open, making her yelp in surprise.
“It’s just me,” I say, closing it behind me.
She stands in front of the sink in her dirty, ripped dress. Her knees are scraped along with her arms. She’s covered in dried blood from her hand and due to the roughness of how I fucked her in the woods off the side of the road.
“Let me help you.” I take a step toward her, and she crosses her arms over her chest. I stop and her eyes drop to the floor.
I don’t like this Elli. The timid girl who acts afraid. I want my little demon who slaps me across the face, fights me knowing she can’t beat me. Moving closer slowly, I gently grab the hem of her dress. “Lift your arms,” I whisper.
Lifting her arms above her head, I pull the material off and let it fall to the floor. She stands before me in nothing but her underwear, her heels long forgotten over in the corner. I walk over to the shower and turn it on.
When I turn back to face her, she’s standing there shaking, head down. Her bleach-blond hair matted around her face. There are twigs and leaves in it.
I reach out, grab her hand, and pull her into the shower. Placing her back against the sprayer, I face her and unwrap the duct tape and remove the shirt from her hand. I look at the wound. It’s stopped bleeding. Honestly, it could probably use some stitches.
“I need to clean it,” I tell her, and she nods.
I gently wash it and she stands silently still while I clean the rest of her, along with the brand on her leg and piercings. They’re both healing so nicely. Leaning her head back, she closes her eyes and I wash her hair with my shampoo.
When it’s rinsed clean, she lowers her head, and her bloodshot eyes meet mine. “I’m sorry,” she whispers.
I grip her face in both of my hands. “Don’t fucking apologize to me, Elli. You have nothing to be sorry for.”
She sniffs, her chest rising. “I … I don’t know what’s wrong with me.” Fresh tears fill her eyes.
I tighten my hands on her face, making her whimper. “Listen to me, Ellington.” I wait for the tears to spill free so she can see me clearly before I continue. “Nothing is fucking wrong with you. Not a goddamn thing.”
“But—”
“But nothing,” I snap, interrupting whatever bullshit she was about to say. “You’re perfect.”
She begins to cry harder at my words. I understand how fucked up they are. She’s who she is because of the childhood she had. And I’m the way I am because of the Lords. They fucked us both up in different ways.
“It’s you,” she whispers, her plump lips trembling.
“What is?” I ask, my eyes searching hers.
She licks her lips, dropping her eyes in shame before whispering. “What I’ve always wanted.”
I’ve known how she’s felt about me for a couple of weeks now. Ever since I read her diary that night after I brought her home from theFreak Show. But to hear her say it out loud, I’m unable to put into words how it feels for her to acknowledge that.
I release her face and run my knuckles down her neck to feel her racing pulse. I press my body into hers, my free hand wrapping around her thin waist, holding her to me. “I’m not going anywhere, little demon,” I say, and she sniffs, biting her bottom lip nervously. “I will be whoever you need, whenever you need me.” I can be the guy who holds her when she needs to break, and I can be the guy who chases her into the woods and fucks her ruthlessly.
I’m willing to be her devil as much as she’s willing to be my little demon. I never want her to second-guess my intentions. For some, pain is where they find comfort. Elli is that someone.
With my hand on her neck, I force her eyes to meet mine. I give her a soft kiss on the lips and her hands wrap around my neck, her left leg lifting to hook around my hip. My hand falls to it, gripping her soft skin.
I’m going to show this woman that one man can be everything she needs.
ELLINGTON
MY HANDS RESTon the edge of the counter, head down as I stare at the two pills.
I started using drugs when I was sixteen. The day after I lost my virginity to James. I hated that he made me feel so good. I knew it was wrong. But my body had been starving for three years. Craving something I couldn’t have. I cried when he left my room, and I stayed up all night, unable to close my eyes, afraid he’d come back and make me want more.
I tried to convince myself that I wasn’t the problem. That I had sat and listened to so many couples over the years talking to my mother in her sessions that I wasn’t as screwed up as I thought. I mean, some things I couldn’t understand why someone would take pleasure in—like being pissed on. Why? I couldn’t find the appeal of a golden shower, not even after watching videos. But then I realized that what I had experienced with James had felt good, no matter how wrong it was. So maybe what they had done also felt good.