“I had excuses to get out of seeing her as I got older,school and sports, stuff like that. But she’d always find a way.
“It wasn’t until she tried to ruin the one holiday I looked forward to every year, the one day my mom and I would make the most of the cards we were dealt, that I finally snapped. It was a crime of passion, especially because the things she was doing to me–the things she made me do–were escalating and got out of hand.”
Don’t go there, Cole. You aren’t sixteen anymore. You’re an adult and your abuser is dead.
Noelle must sense we’re getting to the climax of the story because her breathing all but stops as she waits for me to continue. I let the scent of her sheets–fruitly and entirely Noelle–keep me grounded in the present.
“We were in the kitchen of her house when it happened. Our fake christmas tree that we’d had since I was a kid finally crapped out so my aunt offered to give us her old one. I went over to get it and she was relentless, cruel. I don’t think I meant to do it, but once I slit her throat with the knife she’d left out, I didn’t feel an ounce of remorse.”
I watched her bleed out, watched her try to staunch the bleeding but she was toast. I savored the fear in her eyes as she realized there was no saving her. It was the most satisfying moment of my life.
“She wouldn’t listen to me,” I explained as if I needed to justify my actions any further. “She wouldn’t listen when I told her no. and I told her no over and over and over again.
“I got rid of the knife and stole all the cash in the house and a couple valuable items to make it look like she was robbed. Got rid of those too. The police questioned me since my finger prints were in the house. But I acted like a loving nephew who was sad to hear about his beloved aunt’s passing and they didn’t think twice before ruling it a robbery gone wrong.
“I thought maybe I was a sociopath for not feeling any remorse. But I still cry when I see videos of dogs being rehabilitated. I still laugh everytime I watch a comedy special. I know for a fact I love my mom like a son should. She worked so hard to make a good life for me. But I don’t feel sorry for killing my aunt.”
“You shouldn’t,” Noelle proclaims softly. I’ve been so lost in my thoughts I didn’t realize she moved closer. Her kind eyes and radiating warmth tell me I’m safe, I’m not sixteen any more. “She was a predator, just like Frank, just like the people you kill.”
“Just like Steven,” I remind her. “I saw the look in his eyes when you were in pain. It wouldn’t have stopped at a broken wrist. He was as disturbed as the rest of my victims.”
Sometimes I wonder if it’s right for me to play God, to act as judge, jury and executioner. Then I hear about another child being harmed, or another woman whose life was taken by a possessive psychopath, and I know that what I do might be saving someone from that fate.
“You’re right about me,” Noelle shatters the spiral I’m about to go down. “The same darkness that lives within you also lives within me. You’ve made a home in the morally gray bubble but I’m right there with you. Because I don’t consider you the villain in this story.”
Since I’m already confessing my feelings, I include, “I don’t want to be the victim either.”
“You’re not.” The conviction in her voice rings between us in the mere inches that separate our faces, our bodies. “You’re not a survivor either. You’re a conqueror. Something that would make most people wither away became your root cause for becoming a better person, for making the world a better place. You conquered your demons and sent them back to hell where they belong.”
Even though her hair is neatly tucked behind her ear, no loose strands for me to move out of her face, I run my fingers along the slope of her hair anyway. The pads of my fingers brush her smooth cheek, the point of contact sizzling with electric chemistry.
“Tell me a secret,” I brush my thumb over her pronounced cheekbone. “Big or small. You know my darkest secret. Seems only fair I get to know something personal about you. Something no one else knows.”
Chewing on her rosy bottom lip, Noelle searches for a secret in my eyes, contemplating. Then she admits, “I’ve never used sex toys with another person before.”
I notice her body language shrivel up when I raise a brow. So I rush to ease her worry. “Why not? You clearly enjoyed it.” I send her a flirtatious wink that earns me a soft giggle.Music to my ears.
“Because I’ve never been brave enough to ask before. Of the partners I’ve had, I didn’t want them to feel emasculated.”
Tightening my hold on her I reply, “I don’t know how a man could ever feel emasculated when you’re screaming his name through an orgasm.” I want to paint the world the color of blush that creeps across her nose and cheeks.
Looking past Noelle to the clock on the nightstand I note the time and sigh. “We should probably get some sleep, it’s 3 am.”
Instead of heeding common sense, Noelle closes the final few inches between us so all of her meets all of me. Her warmth seeps into my weary soul where it takes up residence as a permanent reminder of the great gift I was given tonight: meeting her.
“I don’t want this night to end.” My heart stills as she voices what I’ve been wondering. I hoped she felt the connection between us as much as I do. Serendipity is the only explanation for how I landed on her fire escape tonight, meeting a woman that sets my soul on fire and reflects the shadows I never thought I’d find in another person.
Yet an act of fate led us here.
“Niether do I.” I stroke my thumb along her defined cheekbone. “But it’s late.”
I want to tell her this isn’t the end, I want to ask to see her again. I want her to tell me that tonight is only the beginning.
But that’s crazy, right? I just met this girl, spent a few hours withher, and poured out my darkest secrets. That’s not the meet cute most people want.
I don’t know what the next move should be. So I just kiss her and channel all the instant affection into the act. I hope she feels how much this night has meant to me in just this kiss. A kiss that lingers and marks me.
Now that I’ve planted the idea of sleep in her head, Noelle’s subconscious agrees with me. Her jaw drops in a yawn, eyes fluttering closed for a moment. Then she lays her forehead against my chest and whispers, “Stay.”
