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DELILAH
“Please,” I whisper again. He stops moving. I close my eyes and brace myself.
Until he lets out a deep, exasperated sigh. “I wasn’t going to, but you had to lie…” He opens the bedside table, and I know what he’s taking out.Again.
I thought we were past this point. I was sure. How did we go from him eating me like he was starved to this?
“Don’t do this.” I know it’s a waste of my time, but I can’t lie here and let him do this without at least saying something.
“Why? Because you don’t deserve it?” He’s back to being nasty again. The difference between this version of Lucas and the one from dinner is like night and day.Which is the real one?
I know better than to try to fight him off. When he flips me onto my stomach, I go with it. I’m too tired to fight. Might as well get it over with.
Dammit. I can’t believe I let myself think things were getting better. How many times have I been burned? Don’t I know better by now?
Even biting into my bottom lip doesn’t hold in a pained cry when he pulls me to my feet. It feels like my shoulder is going to dislocate.
Just like the first night here, he leaves me on the floor. Unlike that first night, he looks like he wants to kill me.
“It’s about punishing me, right?” I’m not going to let myself cry. I won’t give him the satisfaction.
His jaw twitches. “Yes. That’s right. Be grateful you aren’t getting worse.” He flips the light off, plunging the room into darkness. I hear his footfalls as he walks around to the side of the bed and climbs in.
While I lie here, knowing my arms are going to cramp up. The only thing that seems to ease some of the pain is the knowledge that the sun will rise in a few hours, and I’ll be able to go to classes. But what about tomorrow and the next day? I’m not going to the dorms now.
I don’t understand his hot and cold treatment of me. I wasn’t lying. I’ve never heard about that money until now. I could almost die. Ten million dollars? All for me? Since when? My father never gave a shit about me. It has to be a mistake. Someone is lying, and it’s not me.
Seconds tick by, which turn into minutes. It’s painfully quiet, my own breathing the only thing I can hear. No way am I going back to sleep on this damn floor, especially when I’d bet Lucas will be awake the whole time. Watching over me. Listening for the slightest breath that might be out of place.
I shake my head in disappointment. He thinks I’m lying. I can’t believe how much that hurts.Stupid.I’m so stupid. All this because he made me come, and I think his opinion matters?
In the end, it does. He decides what happens to me next.
Let him beat me up, use me as a fuck toy, whatever. I can deal with the physical stuff. It’s the deeper stuff that gets to me. Being misunderstood has always been the hardest thing for me to deal with. When I try to explain myself, it’s no use.
All that does is make the pain worse, like pouring alcohol into an open wound. I bring my knees to my chest, shivering under the throw blanket. At least he’s letting me have some form of comfort.
“Are you awake?” I whisper. “Please, if you are, tell me so.”
He’s going to leave me hanging, the bastard. No way did he fall asleep that fast. Not while being as pissed off as he was. I’m sure his blood pressure is sky high, yet all I get is silence.
“Fine. I’ll tell you this while you’re asleep.” Somehow, in the darkness, it’s easier to talk. I can’t see him, and he can’t see me. The darkness is my protector, and I lean into it, letting it shield me from the pain I’m about to expel.
“When I told you I had no relationship with my family, I meant it. That doesn’t mean it was my fault. It wasn’t anything I did. I didn’t choose to break contact with them.”
Then I snicker. “On second thought, I lied. I did do something wrong. I was born a girl, and my asshole sperm donor didn’t want a daughter. He wanted boys. Son’s because they carry the namesake. I meant less to him than the damn dirt beneath his feet.”
A sigh fills the room, and I won’t lie, my heart starts to pick up a beat. He’s listening.
“That’s why I had to live with my aunt,” I continue. “He didn’t want me around. I was inconvenient. And my brothers? I was probably safer away from them because none of them liked me very much. Matteo complained about me so much…” I pause, remembering the one instance among many. “The one Christmas I actually spent with them, I wasn’t allowed to eat with the family. I don’t want to think about what he would’ve done to me or the pain I’d have endured if we lived together.”
“What’s she doing here?” He looks me up and down with a sneer of contempt twisting his mouth. “Is it some kind of charity thing?”
Disappointment makes me lower my arms, and with them, the gift I hold out to my brother. “Merry Christmas,” I offer in a pathetic little whisper.
He snorts, then gives a pointed look at the box in my hands. “You think I want a gift from you? What the hell could you give me? You don’t have any money. If you did, you wouldn’t be dressed in that Goodwill getup you’ve got on.”
I look down at myself, at the dress I was so proud of when I put it on. Anger starts to bubble toward the surface. “It’s not from Goodwill.”
