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His one hand is on my shoulder, pinning me to the wall. The other rises to my throat and begins to squeeze. His eyes light up as I can feel the nails sinking into my flesh.
He’s enjoying it, though I am not surprised. He watches me expectantly, but I give him as little as possible. It’s clear that he feeds off this negative energy, seeking out misery. It delights him, and I do not want to give him that satisfaction.
Still, though I try to act indifferent, I can feel my life ebbing away. I can’t breathe, and after a few moments without air, my senses begin to alter. Everything is getting hazy, and a ringing noise begins to rattle around in my ear. My skin feels prickly everywhere but my neck, which just hurts at the pressure he puts down.
It lasts long enough that I begin to think I may die like this. Despite what I said earlier that I knew he would keep me alive, I may have made a mistake. An error of judgment because it seems he really will kill me anyway.
Maybe he just can’t stop himself. I’ve never met such a violent creature. He craves death and destruction, in a way that can’t be tamed.
And then, just when I think it may be the end, he suddenly lets go. His grip on my neck vanishes. Air fills my lungs reflexively, drawn in so deeply that it burns in my chest.
Then, before I can catch my breath, his lips are pinned against mine. The rapid fire burst of one unexpected thing after another has left my mind reeling, unable to make sense of anything that is occurring.
The act is strange, but one thing is clear. It’s not one of passion or of love. He kisses me as though he is punishing me. It’s as if he’s trying to take something he knows he isn’t supposed to have, only because he isn’t supposed to have it. Not because he wants it, at all.
I relax against him, letting him do what he wants. Common sense quickly dictates that making a fuss or fighting back will only make this more enjoyable for him. He’s doing it under the assumption that I won’t like it, so the only way to get back at him is to withhold the reaction he craves.
It feels like being a child again and being told to ignore a bully. If you complain, then you’re telling them that they got to you. If the only goal was to bother you, and you’ve let them, they’ll just keep doing it.
I just thought at 27 years old, I was done with bullies. It turns out sometimes, they don’t go away. They just get bigger.
The longer that I yield to him, the more the kiss oddly begins to grow on me. It’s almost embarrassing to admit or make sense of, and hard to explain. But it turns out that he is a good kisser, and it does feel…nice.
Not that he’s any less of a jerk for doing it, of course. While the mentality behind it is all wrong, the actual act isn’t as abhorrent as I would have expected.
Somewhere along the way, it begins to change. His cruelness starts to slip away, and he’s no longer trying to test me. The kiss shifts into a passionate one, something we are both genuinely enjoying.
I can feel it when he softens, slowly becoming more pliable toward me. It’s as if the trait was buried so deep inside of him, he forgot it was there. Even as he draws it out, it feels halting and unfamiliar. I can sense that it’s both natural and uncomfortable for him, but he lets it unfold.
Just as things are getting hot, he seems to remember himself. He pulls away abruptly, yanking his hands to his side as though I have burned them. Recoiling from me, he takes a step back, his eyes almost accusing.
Confused by the abrupt shift, I take note of the expression on his face. It makes me feel a little defensive. I wasn’t trying to make out with him, but the reaction still has a way of provoking me in a knee-jerk way, as though he is being rudely dismissive.
It occurs to me, to remind him that he started it. He doesn’t need to give me dirty looks as though I’m the weird one here. It was his idea, I just played along.
But by the time I manage to formulate the thought, he has already stormed off once more. I can see him turning the corner of the hallway, disappearing before I’ve even put the response into words.
And then, another beat goes by before an even more important thought hits me. I immediately curse him for distracting me as the realization sinks in.
He still has the key.
98
VOLIKAN
I stalk away from the woman, angry and agitated. There’s a flood of unfamiliar thoughts and feelings coursing through me right now, confusing me and competing for my attention. Until I can sort myself out, the first thing I want is to get far away from her. As quickly as possible.
I know it had been my idea to kiss her, but it wasn’t supposed to be pleasant. Or at least, not for her. The initial satisfaction had come from taking my pleasure at her expense.
It turned out there was no small amount of satisfaction to be found in her own pleasure. But I hadn’t wanted it that way. Realizing it makes my skin crawl, disgusted by the turn of events.
Knowing that she liked it makes me feel a little…gleeful. And I’m pissed about it. How dare she trick me into doing something nice for someone else, and feeling happy about it?
I duck into my private sleeping quarters, shutting the door behind me. Leaning heavily against the door, I tilt my head back and try to think. I finally have the privacy to try to untangle this bizarre experience in peace.
My ear stays attentive, listening for sounds of movement outside the door. The last thing I want is for her to have followed me here. I want to be left alone with my thoughts, free of that strange creature.
And yet there’s a small piece of me that’s almost disappointed when I don’t hear anything. I can’t quite put my figure on the reason it bugs me that she didn’t chase me here, but it does.
