Her body shakes like a volcano is erupting beneath us. I can feel the tremors destroy every inch of her soul.
Want her to remember this forever, so that every fuck will always be this one.
When it's done, I'm cock-deep between her thighs, and fat, hot tears tumble out the corners of her eyes faster than I can catch them. Her eyes aren't full of ghosts anymore and I'm finally the monster they always said I was.
‘Sorry, baby,’ I say.
I'm not sorry I did it. I'm sorry I didn't do it sooner. That I didn't do it when we were teenagers. Didn't do it in the children’s home, when she smelled of the sweet taint of puberty and innocence. Should have fucked her then, fed her to the monsters that haunt her, exorcised whatever hold she has on me now.
Only when I get close, so close I can smell her, do I see the life in her eyes. It's brutal. Her body might be fresh and young, but her eyes are full of old ghosts — mine, hers, every ghost, every betrayal. Like a shine job on the soul. She can see me, the way no one else ever has. She can see into me. And it's like some part of me has gone missing and she has it. Whatever part of me she has, though, she’s mine now.
Holding her dress up to cover her naked tits, she hesitates. Doesn’t make eye contact.
‘This — this was a mistake,’ she says, voice rattling. ‘I-I think we should stay away from each other. It’s all wrong. So wrong. This can’t — no it won’t happen again.’
She turns to run away from me, but I catch her from behind and pin her arms to her side. My chest to her back, I snarl into her ear, ‘I’m not done with you. Nobody's ever gonna touch you again when I'm done fucking you.’
With a twist of her shoulder, she slips out of my grasp and spins round to slap me hard across the face.
It nearly triggers me. Again.
Amy is breathless and panting. I take in her passion-glazed eyes, her red, swollen lips and pink cheeks. She’s so fucking beautiful and I am in deep shit.
‘You’re a monster,’ she hisses, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.
Amy sees. Eyes wide open.
Truth is, I am a monster.
This is the world I live in. Relying on people’s mistakes to manipulate them and use them. It’s all I’ve ever known.
‘You were begging me to fuck you, Amy. So what does that make you if I’m the monster? My heroine?’
I watch her tidy up her little brain hair with angry jarring movements. Her cheeks are like pink bubblegum. When she looks at me, I see soul-crushing hurt in her eyes.
‘Maybe for a moment I wanted the pain gone,’ she whispers.
Bitterness. I hate that feeling of bitterness that wormed its way into my heart and festered away like so many maggots, consuming the dead flesh, leaving the tiny bit of good raw and painful. I tried to fight it, but nothing ever worked.
One girl and . . . boom.
‘Is that why you came back? To make sure no other man touches me?’ she says. ‘Is that why you sacked my therapist? Because he was a man?’
I laugh, a short bark. I know I’ve got a depraved look on my face. ‘You're in a mood, aren't you?’
Amy’s cold, as cold as ice, except for her eyes. Looking into her eyes makes me hard the way nothing else can. I'm someone she looked up to. Ain't that a trip? I was a guy she admired when she was a kid, and now I'm trying to take her apart from the inside out.
That's the part of what turns me on about it. Maybe that's why she has ghosts in her eyes — that's what she sees every time she looks at me. Her hero trying to undo her. Or maybe she's just showing me myself. I'm all dark now. Everything I do brings darkness.
I left prison a different person. What about her? Has she changed from the sweet-like-chocolate girl I fell in love with? Did I do that to her?
I look away, try to forget what her eyes look like. Her and her ghosts.
‘Are you happy? Seeing me like this? Did you get what you wanted? Or would you prefer to record this on your phone so the whole town knows and you can publicly humiliate me again? Spray it on the walls.’
If that's her new resistance, that kind of provoking shit, that’s good all by itself, makes me run hot.
Her face crumbles like a paper flower.
She’s made from Angels. I’m made from the Devil.
‘What’s the real reason you came back? To teach me to hate you, again? Could you not stand knowing I wanted nothing to do with you?’
Anger rolls off me like a poisonous cloud. ‘I told you, I'm not done with you,’ I growl. Something else new grabs at my guts and that’s one new thing too many. ‘You think I'm trying to teach you how to hate me?’
‘Am I supposed to learn anything else watching you destroy my life again?’
Something cuts deep in my chest, throws me into a smog pit, gives me pause.
‘Please, find some other place to live. Just stay away from me,’ she says. ‘I have enough going on in my life right now and I don’t need you to complicate it some more.’
I feel Amy’s pain from the darkest
