18+ | Eva French relocates from sunny Florida to the gritty streets of Detroit, seeking a fresh start. But her new beginning takes a dark turn when she experiences a traumatic assault on her very first night in the city. Haunted by the incident, Eva...
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Vince Matthews
I would often feel angry when I saw Jay and Eva together.
After Eva had started working at Jay's shop, they began spending more time together. Now when I stopped by his shop for a drink or some food during my break at work, a common ritual of mine, she would often be there.
On one of her first shifts, she had been learning how to work the cash register, with Jay overlooking close behind her. Instead of looking at the buttons she was pressing, he had been staring at her face.
The starry eyes that Jay reserved for the girls he's liked over the years seemed to amplify tenfold when he laid eyes on Eva. It was crystal fucking clear.
Once again, a surge of rage and confusion swept over me, witnessing how effortlessly Jay bared his emotions. It confused me how seamlessly he could convey everything he felt as if wearing his heart on his sleeve and expressing his emotions was not foolish or difficult, but easy and gratifying.
I could not admit to myself that what I felt was jealousy, so instead, I was angry.
Anger had always been a comfort zone for me. Something I often saw growing up as a kid was my Dad screaming himself hoarse at my Mom, spit flying from his mouth as he raged, while I watched hopelessly. My Mom then took her anger out on me with the belt afterwards. I remember on numerous occasions after he had left, she'd sneer at me, telling me how much I looked like him. As if that was my fucking fault. Her numerous boyfriends over the years only added to the chaos of our relationship.
The anger became a shield, protecting me from ever being vulnerable. The anger allowed me never to cry, to suffer the beatings silently in rage rather than hurt or pain. It masked all my underlying fears of being abandoned and feeling insecure. Anger was like armour. Without it, there would only be pain and sadness. I chose to wear the armour and have kept it on ever since.
Now, I take most of my anger out with sex. There was nothing more relieving and gratifying than seeing a naked girl writhing below me in both pain and pleasure. This is why I loved the wild ones. The ones that would allow me to spank, pull, and bite.
I knew it wasn't the healthiest way to cope, but it was what worked for me.
At times, my own detachment and desensitization surprised even me. Despite staring into Eva's captivating blue eyes on her doorstep each night and experiencing unfamiliar feelings, it failed to dissuade me from going home and fucking another woman. This unsettling pattern persisted, leaving me ensnared in a confusing spiral.
Despite over-succeeding in my sexual life, I always ended up alone at the end of every single night. The loneliness was not just at the end of my nights, but constant throughout my days. I was lonely even when with my friends. I was lonely even when in bed with a girl. All the shit that I chose to do in between only masked the pathetic feeling that was always in my gut. The embarrassment of even admitting I could ever feel this way. Loneliness was the right word, I think.
