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Until Ruby.
She’s shifting her weight back and forth, holding a red Solo cup. I watched as one of the other teenagers handed it to her, sloshing beer onto the front of her skirt, making me want to explode from the woods and throw the dark-haired beer delivery boy to the ground.
Ruby has not raised the cup.
Instead, as I watch, she eases it behind her back, dumping the foul yellow liquid on the ground. As her friend Marcy leans in to her boyfriend, Ruby lifts the now empty cup, pretends to guzzle it down, swipes the back of her hand across her lips then tosses it into the fire.
Good girl.
My good girl.
I saw her for the first time when I was twenty-nine and she was two. My stepbrother Reginald had a fling with her mother in the back of a limo somewhere in LA, and although he knew she’d given birth, he kept his fatherhood hidden from the family. Living in jets and between the east and west coast, Reginald was summoned to court after Ruby’s mother was killed in a car accident after a night of drinking.
Reginald was thrust into full-time fatherhood and I became an uncle.
My entire world changed when I looked into those trusting blue eyes staring up at me, arms raised like she’d been waiting for me to come for her.
“How did you do that?” Reginald had asked. “She hides from everyone. Doesn’t even let me pick her up.”
Now, from my place in the cool woods surrounding the open field filled with the youth of Mumford, my gut twists as Marcy and her boyfriend David huddle near Ruby, leaning in as Marcy presses her hands together in a begging prayer and David looks around, bored.
Ruby shrugs on a reluctant nod, scanning the edge of the woods as I tuck behind a thick oak. Hiding is not easy when you are six feet seven inches and pushing up on three hundred pounds. But in the darkness, I’m undetectable. I’ve become an expert at hiding over the years as my obsession with Ruby turned from protector and guardian to something else.
A dark hunger gripped me as she grew into an adult. I resisted for as long as I could. In the last year, the urges swelled as her body did the same. Her tiny five feet of blossoming womanhood pushed me over the edge and on her eighteenth birthday, I gave in.
I watched her through the keyhole in the bathroom door as she unzipped the red full-length gown I’d made for her just for that day. I prayed for forgiveness as I pleasured myself to the sight of the young woman I was sworn to raise, standing naked, staring into the mirror, her fingers squeezing the spray of milk from her dark, gathered nipples.
The uncle she’d known had become her father. That day, through the keyhole of the bathroom we’d shared for ten years, my obsession spun into madness. I was the only family she had left in the world and I had given in to the evil I’d fought off for too long.
I want to hold her ankles wide as I press every monstrous inch of what God gave me into that tiny body of hers, but I’m sure I’d damage her beyond repair if I tried.
Mentally and physically.
I want to suck on her dripping tits, taking her sweet milk directly from the source instead of hiding as I drink from the bottles on the machine after she pumps. Taking the machine from her after every session, assuring her I’m only focused on making sure everything is clean and in working order when she’s done.
I’m sick. I know it. But that doesn’t change the urges. The compulsions.
The evil inside me is only tempered by one thing.
Love. I’ve loved her since that first day, but love takes many forms and the privilege of raising her should have been enough for me.
It was not.
I want all of her. From now until the end of time. Every inch. Every sweet taste and vicious scream as I mount her soaking cunt on my face and demand everything from her.
As I lurk in the shadows, Marcy wraps her in a quick hug, then she and David scurry off holding hands, leaving her standing there alone as she scans the raucous crowd. The thump of the music getting louder. There are no stars tonight, the sky a blank chalkboard waiting for the story of my love for Ruby to be written upon it.
The only problem is, I can’t write and I can barely read. That’s a secret Ruby does not know. A shame I carried with me as I watched her graduate Valedictorian of her class, unable to read the program or the printed version of her graduation speech.
I made it through school because I was quiet, and in rural towns, working the farm is more important than earning a diploma. Keeping an able-bodied young man in school any longer than necessary is met with scorn from the farmers and most of the teachers knew the unwritten code.
