Tom and I played this game for many months. If I am being honest, I couldn't understand why he kept coming around. I was so mean to him. If you wanted to try to appreciate how mean I was, imagine placing all of my actions and behaviors as a mean girl into a bowl, measure it, and double what was placed into the bowl. That would be around how cruel I was to Tom.
Yet, who was I to say anything about why he came around? I kept coming showing up as well.
One night, after countless moments of back and forth bickering between us we were together (the four of us) at his friend's house. His friend (and mine) went into his bedroom and left us alone in the living room. We sat there for a few moments in deep silence.
The hairs on my skin started to rise with the excitement of sitting so quietly next to him. He wasn't speaking. With his silence, I could feel the tension in the room. It was so thick you could cut it with a knife. Desire. That's what it was. Pure Desire. It didn't take long for the kissing to begin. I admit, he was an amazing kisser. He was quite possibly the best. He did things with his tongue that made my breath hitch.
When his hands caressed my body, I felt both his desire and his affection. It was as though he was trying to communicate his feelings to me through his touch. The look in his eyes wore something deeper than lust. I wonder now if my eyes held that same promise. Was it even possible for me to care for someone enough to lose myself in them? No. It wasn't and deep down I knew that to be true.
I felt his desire as it mirrored my own. Yet, there was something else there. Something in his eyes that I couldn't return even if I had wanted to.
That moment had become so heated that I felt my pulse rise and my body catch on fire. I was ready to be his. I knew I could give myself to him. This would be my choice, on my terms. It wouldn't be taken from me but freely given. This was going to happen. My mind was resolved.
The feel of his hands on my sensitive places confirmed my feelings. I could do this. He was quiet and I was lost in his eyes. His sad eyes that begged to be needed. He wanted me to want him. I could see it, I could feel it. His caress so gentle and needy it made me ache for him. His grey eyes filled with yearning and full of promises.
The gentle caress of his hands warmed my core and set my heart on fire.
"You see...I knew you liked me," he whispered into my mouth as he kissed me. The spell was broken. He saw it on my face. His eyes widened and his hands stopped moving.
His voice. He spoke. His voice that resonated into my head like screeching hyenas broke me from the spell that his eyes had cast. My mood faded so fast that I thought I had been doused with cold water. My body grew frigid and my eyes widened in horror at the lusty way he spoke those words.
"Who said that?" I chimed. I swear that my eyes probably changed color or something because when he looked at my face his smile faded. The light that had been burning so bright dimmed. The lust that was pooling in his eyes dried out.
"Your body," he said deadpan.
"You have lost your mind," I replied. All hope was lost.
I couldn't bring myself to look past his words. It pained me a little that he could have that kind of power over me. He didn't know how close he had come to getting what he wanted. I was confident now that all he wanted was what all men wanted from me.
Even Him. The man that continued to haunt my nightmares even though he was long gone from this world. Tom, could never understand that it wasn't him I was running away from. He just reminded me too much of the monster that lived in the room at the end of the hall in the place that should have been a safe haven.
I pulled myself away from his touch. Coldness flowed through me. A part of me had wished that I could look past the sound of his voice, but I couldn't. I couldn't look past it because it resonated deep within the essence of my being and I hated the way it made me feel. I hated the way it caused memories to flash through my mind like razor-sharp claws slashing away at my flesh.
The room, always at the end of the hall, always there, calling me to enter. Fear, deep within my bones as I would walk towards the room. The sound of his voice haunting me. So pleasant and safe, yet, it held malice that my young mind couldn't comprehend.
"Come here child" he'd say.
His words melted like butter on my ears. Trust. I trusted him.
"Come in and close the door," he commanded.
I entered the small room at the end of the hall and slowly closed the door. A small part of me felt a fear enter my body but I didn't know why I was afraid. Could it be the way he was looking at me? Was it his voice? I didn't know. I just knew that something was wrong and it sat on my skin like tiny needles pressing into my flesh.
"How was your day?" he asked in a soothing voice.
The sound he made flowed over me like a warm blanket. Trust.
"It was ok," I said, there was a tremor in my reply.
I was afraid but why? He looked at me in silence for a moment. His eyes. They bore into me so deeply I couldn't bear to look away from him.
"Would you like to see something?" he said.
I'd nodded my head in acceptance. I trusted him, my mother's father. He loved me. He loved me the way that she couldn't. So, why was I afraid?
Author's note: I know, cliffhanger. I promise you won't have to wait for long. Thank you for reading.
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