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I fuck her, hard and fast, pulling back and thrusting back in.
She’s burying her face in the covers. Grasping at the sheets with her fingers. Muffling her cries in the bedding. My own fingers dig into her hips, surely leaving circle-shaped bruises for her to admire tomorrow.
My confusion. My pain. Everything she’s dredged up from the depths of my past. I take it out on her body. When I finally reach the peak of release, I’m exhausted, my mind blanking as the orgasm takes over my body.
Stars and sweat and palpitating heartbeats. My whole body tied up tight in the moment. Rigid and unrelenting. Then, finally, the release hits and I collapse over her on the bed. We’re both panting, our sweaty bodies tangled in the sheets.
After a moment, when her breathing slows back to normal, she steps to the bathroom to shower and change while I lie there on my back, staring at the ceiling.
The only thing the sex resolved was the tension in my muscles. I’m still a fucked-up mess. Unsure of how I feel, what I want, or even what I need. Now I’m even more confused than I was before as I count down the minutes, knowing Rockland will be reaching out soon.
She tiptoes back into the room, timid in my presence after what we did. She slides under the covers without a word. “I have to go,” I say, slipping from the bed. I snag my sweats from the floor, pulling them on.
My phone’s on the nightstand and I grab it, putting it in my pocket. “I’m expecting a call.”
“Okay.” She stares at me a moment, then turns over, facing the wall. “Goodnight.”
I lean down, leaving her with a soft kiss on her cheek. I make my way down to the kitchen to access the back patio, careful to not wake Dad or Dolores. I stare out into the dark night, arms around my bare chest to warm myself as I wait.
I couldn’t keep my mom safe and she was only an arm’s reach away, ocean water filling her lungs as she disappeared further into the depths of the waters.
Bronson and Paige, they can keep Lindy safe.
I think of her photo—the first time I saw her. It isn’t really love if it’s born from an unhealthy obsession. I’m running her life if I keep her here with me, stuck in this Stockholm syndrome mess I’ve created. If I let her go, she could have a chance at finding true love.
With someone worthy of her.
My phone rings. I know what I have to do. I pick up on the second ring.
“Hello, Rockland.” I take a deep breath. “I’ve made my decision,” I say. “Let her go.”
july 17th
One month after Rockland’s call to Damian.
thirty
Lindy
My mind plays a movie clip on repeat. Him and me, the last time we were together. Taking out our frustrations on one another’s naked bodies. I can’t make it stop. It just keeps coming in flashes of shame, waves of heat.
Then the morning that followed.
I woke in the bed alone.
He was nowhere to be found.
A staff member I’d never met before came to me. I was told to pack. That I’d been offered a teaching position in the Hamlet, that I’d been freed from my arranged marriage. That Dolores had taken Dante to the hospital for his follow-up appointment and that this was a good time for me to leave.
I didn’t even get to say goodbye.
Stunned, I showered and dressed as quickly as I could.
The little bit of brain power I had in my shocked state told me to leave the ring behind. Thank goodness I could at least live without the shame of forgetting I had it on and traveling to the Hamlet still wearing the piece of jewelry.
God, the humiliation if the family had to ask for it back. I stared down at the beautiful rubies one last time as it sat on the ring finger of my left hand. The gems that once signaled hope of a future together.
I slipped it from my finger and left it on top of his nightstand.
