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Slam.
Her palms connect with the tabletop, shocking Jim and startling the silverware from my grip. He rips his touch away from me, widened blue eyes unsure where to look. The smile that graced the corner of his lips falls, a frown wrinkling his aged, pale skin. “Are you okay, sweetheart?” I don’t know who he’s asking, my mother or me.
Ignoring what sounds like genuine concern, I mumble, “Sorry,” darting my glance to him instead of her. “I’m f-fine.” Of course, I am. Loud noises and anger are the default for my mother, but Jim… he looks worried aboutme. The kind, tender smile I receive is different from the one he gives her. Hers is full of bewilderment, while mine holds promise.
Good.
That’s what I need from Jim. Compassion. Care.
Blind desire. It’s what will make this new idea I’ve conjured work. I can’t do it without him, because if I do, I’ll be in that cellar awaiting whatever new punishment she’s devising inside her head at this moment.
“Aww, don’t mind her, Jim. She’s perfectly fine. My clumsy daughter didn’t do anything but make a mess. You’re going to clean it, though. Aren’t you?” I’m expected to respond clearly and swiftly, but I’m too focused on reaching underneath the wood to grasp onto Jim’s raging bulge.
How she doesn’t notice or question the subtle jerking of my arm is staggering, but I don’t bring her attention to it. With the pad of my palm rubbing faster, rougher, into the cheap material of his pants and the thrill of tonight running through my mind, it takes me a moment to gather my composure. Finally, after a few collected breaths, I mutter my agreeance.
“Yes, Mother. I’m sorry for disturbing you. I’ll clean my mess.”
It pleases him, to my mother’s growing irritation, but she doesn’t make another comment about it. Returning my gaze to the table, I drop my palm from his lap, happily avoiding his gleaming eyes and slightly breathy, labored smile.
I behave properly for the rest of the dinner, smiling to myself about the fun I have planned for the night.
CHAPTER FOUR
Sitting at the end of the couch, I force my eyes ahead, ignoring the black-and-white film playing while they fool around somewhere behind me. Mother doesn’t care that I’m only feet away, and why the hell should I matter to her when she has a man in her hands? Her thoughts are only on him and what pleasure she can bring while I sense his eyes boring into the back of my head.
“Let me take care of you somewhere private, baby. Just for you and me,” I hear her whisper, followed by the wet sounds of her lips somewhere on his body. My nails dig into the leather as those noises grow louder, only stopping when I feel his fingers circle the back of my neck.
Stiffening, I turn my head to face him, feeling my limbs become ice when his darkening irises pierce into me. I know what he wants, but I don’t think about it much; more surprised that he’s willing to risk my mother’s wrath by touching me while she’s on his lap.
It’s difficult to read him in the shadows, but whatever his expression hints has my heart slowing almost to a stop. My mother can’t see, not with her head buried in his neck, so, without a word, he gestures to the bulge in his pants, mouthing, “Look what you do to me,” before fisting his fingers in my mother’s hair. I roll my gaze to the floor, subtly shaking my head, briefly questioning if I could go through with the thoughts running through my mind with someone as fucking vile as Jim.
I want him gone. I just have to get through this first.
“Why don’t you meet me in the room, baby? We can finish the night right.” The desperation in her tone seeps heavily into the room. It’s sad how she can crave men like Jim and hate me for needing my uncle’s touch under my skin. She calls me sick, but look at her, practically crying for a man who’ll give anything to fuck me instead. Her eyes follow him as he jumps from the sofa, tracing the contours of his back on his way to the first door on the left.
It doesn’t take long for Mother’s claws to dig into the nape of my neck, the same spot Jim’s rested moments ago. I can’t stop the hiss from breaking free of my lips as her grip moves from the back to the front of my throat. With a tight hold, she cuts off my thoughts and briefly shocks my system as she squeezes my pulse between her fingers. Violently, she draws my back deeper into the couch cushions, seizing my jaw in her other hand to bring my lips inches from hers.
“Stop whatever fucking game you’re playing with me, Maude. I’m not in the mood for you and your shit tonight.” Tugging my face back and forth, Mother continues. “Go to your room, close the door, and don’t come out until I get you in the morning. Understand? I don’t want you anywhere near Jim.” She looks at me as if she could read my mind. Maybe she can. Either way, it’s smart to keep me away, but can she keep his hands off me? That’s what she should be worried about.
“Go.” I barely catch myself as she throws me off the sofa, fumbling to right my feet quick enough not to land face-first on the hardwood floor. Once stable, I amble from the room without another look, noiselessly storming down the hall until I close myself in the empty spare space.
The second the door slams shut, I pause, eyes widening before I think of undoing it. My mother doesn’t allow disobedience, and loud noises are probably one of the highest on her list. Any sound, especially from me, is an absolutenoin her mind. Stepping toward the door, I consider opening it, wondering if she’s going to come in here wailing because I drew too much attention to me, but after a few seconds of my ear pressed to the wood, I’m met with nothing but silence.
Somewhat grateful she didn’t care about my defiance enough to beat me, I turn, resting the back of my head against the door. Repeatedly, I knock my throbbing skull into the wood, mouthing his name over and over until the vision of him appears like a flash behind my eyes. He doesn’t come to me as often as I need, so I push, and I cut, and I bleed. Anything to see him.
That quick glimpse of him is enough to propel my nerves away. I need to do this.
With a sigh, I push myself off the door, pacing the space, and running my fingers through my tangled black waves before sitting on the edge of the flaking, wrought-iron bed frame. Now that the nerves have subsided, I slide my hands between my thighs and listen to all the new noises of the house, counting each and every groan of wood before the strongest one rattles my bedroom walls.
It's time.
Sliding off the rickety frame, I creep to the exit, gently turning the knob so the sound of the latch doesn’t ricochet across the room. Luckily, the screams of pleasure coming from the next room drown out any noise I could make.
Slinking out of the cracked doorway, I toe my way to my mother’s room, stopping just before my face passes the frame. The edges of my teeth cut into my cheeks as I suck the flesh between my jaw. I drink down the blood flowing into my mouth as mewls filter outside of the room. Then, muffling my shuffling steps, I peek around the edge, keeping my breathing muted while I take in the two of them.
As I watch Jim bury my mother’s face into the bed, I hide my grin against my palm. Counting the seconds that pass before he brings her up for air, I admire the tears pooling at the bottom of her wide, dilated eyes. The sight of her, arms bound behind her back, shaking and weeping, reminds me of me.Of us. I want to run in and say,“See! Isn’t this beautiful, Mom? Don’t you feel loved?”Because I do. When I remember how he touched me, how he drained me dry, I’m overwhelmed by the passion we shared.
I consider it, darting in there to plead for her tofinallyunderstand, but then, the sound of her voice in my head, calling me sick, vile, and twisted, turns my blood cold.
