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“Well?”
Her voice is tinged with a multitude of emotions—each willing to claim me victim.
My reflex is to run with the tones of hurt, the ones that make me feel most powerful.
“So, you had one, then?”
I’m not sure what I expected from her in response to that, but Natalia looks positively possessed. She rolls her eyes up to the ceiling, a sign she’s trying to quell the anger that’s clearly riding the highest.
Her lips purse as she brings her eyes back down to me. “I’m going to guess before,” she surmises. “Right… that makes this even more interesting.”
“I’d hardly call this interesting.”
In actuality, I’ve evaded discussing this very topic since it happened. No one was able to help the matter, and no one could make it better because when one hit happened, others followed.
“Oh, I would!”
The lightness in her voice tells me Natalia is about to relish in whatever she’s about to say, but what I can’t fathom is why. There is nothing but inflicting more pain that makes this at all exciting, but I guess that is Natalia’s favourite playtime.
“It’s interesting because the last few days have felt like they were full of clarity. Absolute, crystal-clear fucking clarity.” She slaps her hands together, beginning a small, thoughtful pace before me. “See, I started to put two and two together. At first, I couldn’t understand why you, of all people, were so hurt. How did you get to be angry at me when I had no control in the matter? How did you get to hate me when I hated you so,somuch?”
I go to speak, but the moment my lips part, Natalia throws an open palm up, silencing me.
“You were the monster in all of this. I was just the stupid girl who loved you. Or so I thought.” She places a hand to her chest, feigning hurt feelings. “Then I thought about what happened. I thought about your father, and how my father cut me off like I was nothing. And there is one variable in all of it that stays the same.”
“My father.”
“Your father.”
She echoes that back at me with such a proud tone, mocking me for getting it right, and the pit in my stomach opens up.
“Looking back, however,” she starts and picks up her pace—quick, angry steps. “I don’t know what hurts the most. The fact you believed that or knowing you don’t believe me now. And really, it’s so much more fucking twisted than you think.”
How is that even a possibility?
“You ready for this, darling boy?”
I’m too stunned for words.
Everything I knew is crumbling, and while Natalia’s in the same predicament, she’s dealing with it in a completely destructive manner.
And I fucking hate myself for letting her drag me down with it.
“Want me to recount what actually happened?” She narrows a heavy gaze on me as she asks another rhetorical question. “And when I say there’s no going back, I don’t use that for effect. I can’t undo what I’m about to drop on you, Beck. And to be honest, I don’t give a fuck either way.”
My gut instinct kicks in. It’s telling me now is the time to get the hell out of dodge and avoid this entire conversation, but I know Natalia won’t allow it. Now she’s started, there is no stopping.
And while my gut continues to tell me to run like hell, my feet remain cemented on the floor.
I’m meant to be here. I’m meant to listen.
I’m meant to feel absolutely every part of this.
“You’re looking a little stunned, Beck. Are the pennies finally dropping?” Her head tilts sideways as she regards me. “Want to sit for the rest of this?”
I don’t utter a single word. I just watch her as she stands before me, all hell and beauty, broken and shattered.
“He raped me.”
