Red Cave

David

"What?" David turns his head toward the stairs, searching for Mary before returning his focus to his sister. "What're you talking about? We are dating."

"So you're cheating on her," she says, looking at him. His lips are pursed, his brow furrowed, and he shakes his head.

"Well, are you?" They look at Mary as she descends the trembling stairs, her right hand trailing the length of the railing. Her blonde and brown hair reaches as straight as a needle to her backside, some swinging over her shoulders and others behind her. "Who's Judith, Shelly?"

"Mary, stay out of this." He points his finger at her, speaking sternly enough to cause her to gaze away from them, and towards the living room arch. David turns to his sister. "Michelle, go to bed. As for Judy, what we've got going isn't your business."

"Well, is it mine?" Mary places her hands over her chest and David shuts his eyes in response. "I mean, I am your girlfriend after all, and if you're cheating then this does affect me."

He takes a deep breath in through his nose and out through his mouth. Michelle is looking at Mary, who is staring at the back of his head. As he slowly turns to face Mary, she crosses her arms.

"Judith's my girlfriend and I was dating her before I met you," he confesses to her, and she blinks back. Michelle lowers her gaze onto her respective knee-high socks. "You know what, I don't even know why I'm talking to you about this."

"Probably because I'm your girlfriend," she raises her voice, her nostrils flaring and her teeth gnashing. He lifts an eyebrow at her reminder. "Or so I believed. I mean, you practically wined and dined me since you met me, what — a month or so ago? Hell, I've had more scallions than a fisherman and I'm sure you know that. You know everything about me, David. Things I wouldn't otherwise share."

"Yeah, yeah, I know your story." He swats her speech with his left hand when her voice cracks, rolling his eyes as well. Tears threaten hers, first providing a glossy film that Michelle sees. "Submissive little kitten, neglected by her mom and dad. You'd be a typical Nazi fantasy if you weren't a hick."

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" Mary shakes her head, leaving her lips agape. He narrows his eyes at her, and his sister drops hers onto the glass cup in hand. "I — loved you. Oh my God, I'm a fucking idiot."

"Don't curse in front of her, Mary." She forces out a chuckle as her thin fingers race through her hair, shoving portions off her forehead. He watches tears trickle off her lashes and sits his hands on his hips.

"Do you feel anything for me? Did you feel anything for me," she asks, and he pulls his lips into a straight line to avoid smiling. When the corners of his mouth twitch, she directs her blues onto the little girl in her nightgown. "Shelly, baby, take heed to men like him. I swear to God, I would've kept reading Romance Goes Tenting if I knew how big of a dick he is."

David slams his right hand against the freezer door, his arm hovering above Michelle's head. The ladies flinch when they hear the boom. "Mary, stop fucking cursing in front of my sister!"

Michelle instinctively drops her cup and shatters the glass on the linoleum, attracting their attention.

"I'm sorry," she says to her brother in a trembling voice.

"Don't worry about it, Shelly. Go back to bed, I'll clean this up." With his head, he motions to the mess of shards and white milk in front of their feet. His eyes follow her past him while hers are locked on Mary's. He turns his body to watch her walk up the stairs and when she reaches the second floor, he and his fling look at each other. "Mary, go home. My girl's on the way home and when she gets here, she'll need my full attention."

"You're a hound dog." She moves closer to the arch, and the corner of his mouth lifts, forming a smirk. "And you think this shit is funny? You're worse than Adam, Keith, and Christopher combined."

She speaks with her hands, and his expression falters when he raises his voice, "Don't compare me to your exes. None of them. I told you from the beginning I'm just looking to fuck, but you chose to turn this into a thing. Unlike them, I was honest."

"Burn in hell." Mary sniffles. He shrugs and then turns his back to her. She licks her quivering lips, tears streaming down her beet-red face. David hovers over the mess, and she asks, "What if Michelle got her heart broken by a guy like you? Do you ever think about shit like that?"

"That wouldn't happen." He shakes his head, plucking shards from the milk stain one by one.

"You sure about that? I mean I was a virgin before that day I met you." When he doesn't look at her or stop cleaning, she clears her throat and continues, "She may be a virgin now, but let's see how long it lasts if she looks at you and who you are, thinking this is what a man is, thinking this is how a girl should be treated."

"Mary," he begins, standing up straight. He drops them in the trash bin beside the refrigerator. "I'm not talking about my little sister's sex life with you or anyone. Go home."

In his gut, he knows there's truth to what she's saying just as much as he believes that his charming facade works on women of easy virtue. Ironically, he was referred to in the same manner by an ex-fiancée but never dwelled on it long enough to change.

"Maybe she's not a virgin," she blurts out, and David quickly turns around, shooting daggers at her as his shoulders and chest rise and fall faster than they did before. She walks closer to him, her arms crossed and tears streaming down her cheeks. "Maybe she's fucking your girlfriend's brother. Hell, who knows, maybe he's just—like—you!"

He fires his palm against the side of her face as she reaches him, and she tumbles onto her hip. As her shaking hand rises to her cheek, Mary gasps from the impact and the stinging pain in her flesh. Her fingertips brush against the reddening mark, but her gaze is fixed on him. "I could fucking kill you right now for saying that disgusting shit."

He watches her until she lowers her irises onto his boxer briefs, then he scratches the back of his head while scanning the dimly lit kitchen. Her weight is supported on her right elbow and her left hand is pressed to her cheek. Her anguish skis down her cheekbones and slide across her short, pristine fingernails.

"Jesus H," he says under his breath, then sighs. He shakes his head at her and continues, "Look what you made me do, Mary. I tried so unbelievably hard to keep you happy, to treat you to the life you deserved while I got what I wanted, and all I wanted was to fuck on occasion. Simple."

She reclines onto her side, laying in the fetal position and burying her face in her hands. Mary mewls against her palms and David huffs at her disheveled behavior. Before that moment, he'd never hit her, but she reminds him of every other woman before her; all but Judith. With Judy, he never had to strike her. She was easy to control compared to the others because she allowed herself to understand and care for him. To his knowledge, Judith suffered from Stockholm Syndrome: a condition he learned about in the newspaper which aided him in controlling her—knowing that no matter how far he takes the abuse, she'll never leave.