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I had assumed James was different, that his fancy suits and pleasant manners meant he would be kinder than the men I’d grown up with.
But it turns out he’s the same kind of asshole—just better dressed.
He’s one to talk about not being able to dress up enough to hide your true self.
* * *
By the time I get home, most of the rage has worn off.
I probably ought to feel bad about tossing water into his face.
But I’ve grown up among men whokilltheir enemies. He’s lucky I didn’t do something worse.
I’m a little surprised to realize I don’t feel sad about this at all.
In fact, I’m relieved that he showed me who he really is before I got even more involved. As it is, we only dated for a few months, not even long enough for me to introduce him to my family.
But maybe I need to rethink waiting to introduce a boyfriend to my father and his men. James would have bailed on me sooner if he’d known who I came from.
To be honest, I’ve been afraid to introduce anyone to Control, worried that my father will decide he needs to move up the timeline for his plans for me, marry me off to one of his lieutenants before I got too involved with someone else.
It’s a fine line, I know. Control doesn’t care if I play around for a while, but if he thinks I’m getting too serious, he’ll try to put a stop to it.
Still, I’m beginning to think it doesn’t matter what I do. No matter what, some man is going to want to be in charge of who I am and what I do with my life. Men like Control, who wants to use me to solidify his hold over the Burning Heretics, or men like James, who wants to use me to advance their careers.
“Men are scum,” I mutter to myself.
And yet I don’t want to be alone.
In my apartment, I throw myself down on the futon that serves as both a sofa and the occasional guest bed. I swipe my phone open and stare at the dating app where I met James.
I suspended my account just a few weeks ago—not because I was certain James was the one, but because I wanted to be able to focus on him while I figured it out.
“This is insane, Rebellion,” I whisper to myself.
I know I’m going to go right back into the dating game, though. I’m afraid if I don’t distract myself, I really will have a total meltdown. Between Control’s determination to keep me from going to art school and James’s decision to break up with me, I’m feeling particularly rebellious.
With just a few clicks, I reinstate the account.
“Let’s see who else is out there.”
There have to be men in the world who would want me for something other than what they can use me to get. Right?
I’m not sure I believe that could possibly be true—it certainly runs counter to everything I have ever experienced in my life.
But I know it must be. There have to be men who truly value the women in their lives, cherish them, and care for them just because they love them, not because the women can serve a purpose.
I have to believe that.
“But this time,” I mutter aloud, “I am going to introduce them to the Blazing Heretics early on.” That way, they will know upfront what kind of world I come from. If they’re going to decide I’m not good enough for them, I want them to do it sooner rather than later.
I check my profile with a critical eye.
It’s pretty generic, I have to admit.
If I really want to find someone who can love me for who I am, maybe it’s time to be a little more honest here.
I move into the other bedroom. Technically, actually, it’s the master of my tiny two-bedroom apartment. But it has the best light in the mornings, so I’ve turned it into a makeshift studio, putting thick canvas drop-cloths over the boring beige carpet and using the material to cover the walls too.
