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46
I Was Him And He Was Me
HUDSON
I’m in a nightmare again. I’m choking on my own blood. That sharp, metallic liquid fills my mouth until I can’t breathe.
The bastard’s taken it too far this time. When I open my eyes I’m in the ER, bright fluorescent lights burning my eyes until they begin to water.
Fuck, my head hurts a lot, but I can hear my mother explaining to the doctor that I had tripped down the staircase. She’s lying for dad like she always does. I was shoved down the staircase by him.
Some part of me wishes that today is the day, that I get to die. To end this neverending cycle. I can’t do this anymore.
But when I wake up gasping for air, my heart thumping in my throat, I’m next to Parker’s naked body and we’re in the Penthouse at Saylor Towers back in Manhattan. And I’m fucking alive.
The clock only reads 3:46 a.m. but I can’t go back to sleep, not yet so I nudge Parker’s arm and she turns to me and I ask her to have sex.
It takes longer for me to come when she’s on top and that’s exactly what I need right now. I want the slow build-up so that I can forget the nightmare.
She gives me a few long strokes to get me hard, before placing my dick inside of her and I grab her hips as she throws her head back and moves up and down. It’s slow and fucking sexy and I can feel her getting wetter each time she comes back down on my dick.
The only sound that fills my ears is our heavy breathing and the sound of our bodies connecting with each thrust.
“Hudson,” Parker sobs as she comes and I come seconds later as I thrust one last time inside of her, filling her deeply as she falls over and kisses me deeply.
We lay together, the scent of our sex and her Red Door perfume filling my senses.
“Are you okay?” Parker asks finally after a minute of silence.
“Yes,” I reply in a monotonous voice.
I take a shower soon after and lock the door so that she doesn’t follow me in like she usually does so that we can go for another round.
The hot water travels down my back as I place my palms against the cool tile.
This might make me sound like an asshole and I’d love nothing more than to have her on her knees in front of me, but I can’t think straight right now with her around.
Instead, I focus on us moving in together today. Parker and I both decided that we could live in a townhouse in Manhattan and not in the Penthouse because it would suit both of us now that college is over.
I brought up the idea of a townhouse, knowing she’d agree because Parker is the type of girl who would like to lead a peaceful life knowing things are going to be okay.
So I showed her the place I’d found online a few days ago. The truth is, I’d found it around a month ago and bought the townhouse for twenty million from a young couple who had recently built the place and were now getting a divorce. It was a pretty good deal.
And I knew that I would somehow convince Parker to move in eventually, all I was waiting for was time. And that time has come.
I hear the door handle and I know it’s Parker. I turn off the faucet and head back into the room to find Parker sitting on the edge of the bed in just my faded grey t-shirt.
She’s watching me as I get dressed, biting her lip as she ponders on whether to ask me if I’m okay again because she can’t tell what’s wrong with me and why I’m being weird.
And if she does ask I might answer her coldly or just not answer her at all. She’s all around me and yes, I don’t want to be deserted, but right now I just don’t want her anywhere near me.
Sometimes, I try to understand why I am the way I am. I can read people’s emotions like it’s a case summary and I can mimic them but not actually feel them.
I try to remember if I was always this unloving, cruel, cold-hearted, and empty. Did that swirling void inside me suck up everything I could feel before?
My mother once told me that I was a happy child and unfortunately, I can’t remember that because the beatings came as I grew older, so I can’t even remember me being a fucking happy and ecstatic kid.
I remember my father’s fist though. Rough and always cut on the knuckles and his belt. The cruel look of anger on his face as he spat out obscenities at me, while I wondered, “Why?”
