Now her pouty lips looked like pink cotton candy.
Pink cotton candy? What the fuck?
Her pretty mouth trembled and I knew I was winning this staring contest, I usually did. She finally broke contact, shifting uncomfortably in the chair.
“Excuse me,” she uttered as she tried to push past my arms barricading her. I should have let it go. I should have let her run out of the room like the scared little mouse that she was, but I wanted her to suffer. I wanted to punish her for being so damn sunny, so innocent.
I leaned even closer, my lips just barely touching hers. I could see the barrier of liquid forming in her eyes. She was trying hard to hold them back, but her emotions betrayed her and a single tear danced elegantly down her sweet round face.
“Looks like we’ll be seeing each other again, little mouse. Now get the fuck out,” I spat, going for the kill.
She scurried up, and for a moment hesitated, before she pushed past my arm, I allowed her to break the barrier, still managing to brush my hand against hers, and for just a second she lifted her eyes and looked at me, daggers sharpening behind her tear-soaked eyes.
But that strength only lasted a second. She dropped her head in defeat then, running out of the library as if she was on fire.
I walked back to the chair to pick up the book, cradling it gently in my hands. I laughed at my own insanity. I didn’t want her to go, but I had no problems making her cry. I was a sick, twisted fuck. She’d done nothing to me; all she’d done was have the nerve to touch a book. A book that I’d read a million times.
I’d read most of the books in the library. It was my escape from the hell that was my life. This place was a fucking prison--my whole damn life was--I knew there was no escaping it. As much as that little mouse looked like she could be defiant, I would break her into a million tiny pieces.
I placed the book back in its place and walked down the row until I found what I was looking for. Pulling the leather bound first edition out, I looked it over, the rough deckled edges like silk against my fingertips. I never understood why it consumed me. God knows the man who gave it to me was a monster, but maybe that was the point. He was just as corrupt as the characters he loved so much. I opened the first page and read the inscription.
“The books that the world calls immoral are the books that
show the world its own shame.”
Then I threw it across the room.
3
Love seeketh not itself to please, Nor for itself hath any care;
But for another gives its ease, And builds a Heaven in Hell’s despair.”
- William Blake, The Clod And The Pebble
Madison
I rushed out of the library and headed downstairs; I didn’t even stop when Mom called my name at the front door. The only thing I knew in that moment was that I wanted to be as far as possible from this museum and the boy with the hard-as-steel blue eyes.
I wasn’t sure why he upset me so much. I grew up in a rough neighborhood, I knew martial arts, I was tough, but still, I was sobbing like an idiot. I took the stairs two at a time and headed for my mother’s beat up Honda Civic, pulling on the handle but realizing it was locked, and I didn’t have the key.
My body deflated then, my back to the passenger side door, my head dropped down in my hands. I tried to push the tears back, but the anger now bubbling inside me wasn’t helping hold them at bay. I was furious with myself that something so small could make me break like this.
Fuck him.
I wasn’t going to let him or anyone else define me. I was in control of my emotions. It was on me to make sure that these people saw my best game face, and this crying, helpless girl wasn’t me. My mother taught me better than that. She’d made me strong and capable and always set the best example.
This girl crying by the car wasn’t her.
“Maddy, you ok, honey?” Mom came storming out of the front door, Monica trailing behind her. Before I could even say anything, she was by my side, holding me in her arms. “What happened, Maddy?”
I stood silently, just looking at her, tears streaking down my pitiful face. The only thought in my mind was that Deborah Evans would never have let a stupid guy get the better of her. All of my life she was an active feminist, teaching girls to become strong and empowering women. To be anything and handle anyone. If she knew the truth, that the boy upstairs had shaken me so, she would probably lose her mind. Not only would her disappointment in me be apparent, but also she would track down that guy and beat the shit out of him.
The plain fact was, we needed the money and I really didn’t want my mother to look like the head case she was on the first day.
“Maddy.” Mom said my name again.
“It’s nothing, Mom, I just saw a book that reminded me of Daddy,” I lied. “I just miss him.” I told the truth.
“Oh, honey,” she said, pulling me to her, “I miss him too. I know that moving to a new place can be hard, but I think that this is a completely new start. Like a new chapter. You start at the academy on Monday, and you’ll see that things will eventually not seem so bleak.”
I buried my face in her shoulder and cried. I didn’t cry for the father that I loved
