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Those words replay in my head, the look on her face as she gazed up at me, touching my face as she uttered them accompanying the memory. Then I see her tears, gagging as I spit in her mouth, degrading her and treating her like something disgusting after she was so kind to me.
What the fuck is wrong with me?
My hand drops from her throat, and I nearly stop breathing.
“Mercy.”
In a rush, I pull out. “Mercy. I’m calling mercy,” I stammer as I fall to my ass, leaning back against the couch. My fingers dig into my hair as I let my head hang forward.
Without another word, she’s there, pulling my face up and putting hers within inches of my own.
“It’s okay. I’m okay.”
She invades my space, settling my face against her shoulder as she drowns out all the thoughts in my head with her touch.
“Talk to me. What happened?” she whispers.
“What do you mean what happened? Aren’t you disgusted by me?” I gape at her in shock.
“No,” she replies, stroking my cheek, “I actually liked seeing you take control like that.”
I scoff. “Well, I didn’t. I don’t feel good about myself right now…if you couldn’t tell.”
“Why? If I gave you consent to do it, then why do you feel so bad?”
I shrug. “I don’t know. I wish I knew.”
She lifts my face and gazes into my eyes. “Beau, you have some warped perceptions about sex. The shame you feel isn’t your fault. Someone else put that there.”
I can’t pinpoint in the moment if it was my mother talking shit about my dad for so long that I believed her lies or if it was society brainwashing me into believing that sex came with a side order of shame, but Maggie’s right, and I’m seeing it now for the first time. My perception is warped.
“You don’t have to feel bad about degrading me if that’s what gets you off,” she says with a shrug. “I got off on it too.”
“You did?”
With a wicked-looking half-smile, she nods. “Could you not tell how wet I was?”
“I don’t want to do that again. I just want you to be in control.”
“Okay, I will. But I think you need to do that more often, until you learn to stop feeling so bad about it.”
“I wanted to hurt you, Maggie. I wanted to treat you like garbage.” I say this to her like it’s common sense how wrong it is, but her facial expression doesn’t look convinced.
“Are you saying there’s something wrong with me if I get off on being treated like garbage?”
My brow furrows, and I try to ignore how turned on that makes me, knowing how aroused she was by that. On the bright side, some of that shame I was just drowning in has started to fade away. “Nothing makes sense anymore.”
“Tell me about it,” she replies, stroking my hair out of my face.
Then, without warning, everything bubbles to the top, like I’ve just opened a wound that won’t stop bleeding. “I’m not supposed to show emotion or anger. I’m expected to just accept shit I don’t like. I accepted my parents splitting. I accepted when my dad started dating my ex-girlfriend. And now I have to accept them getting married. On the outside, I let them believe I was okay, but I still feel so…”
She nestles closer, touching my shoulder and leaning against my arm as she listens. I can feel her encouraging me to continue.
“I’m still fucking angry.” The moment those words are out, it feels like a weight is lifted from my chest. I think I’ve been holding that in longer than I realized.
She kisses my cheek. “It’s okay to be angry, Beau. What matters is how you let that anger out. You need an outlet, or at the very least, someone to talk to.”
I focus on her touch, the calming movement of her hand over the skin of my arm.
