“No, I was kind of in the moment.”
I can tell by his sweet face he really has no clue what he just admitted to me, and it’s taking everything in me not to cry.
“Whatever I said… I’m sorry, I take it back… Let’s just start over, I can do better,” he pleads.
The disappointment on his face breaks my heart as the tears start to flow from my eyes. I can’t stop them as I cover my face and don’t know whether to throw up or hide. The man I love not only thinks he is a trained rapist; he thinks he can do it better… and I made him feel like he was sucking at something he clearly thinks he’s good at. What is wrong with me?
My God, how did I not see how broken he is?
“Vixen, are you okay? Fuck, will you talk to me, please? At least tell me where this is coming from. I’ve never seen you cry.”
“I just need you to stop talking for a minute,” I undertone.
I feel like I’m stuck in quicksand, sinking, afraid to do or say the wrong thing and he just keeps making it worse because all he can do is worry about me crying!
I mean, what the fuck?
I wipe the tears away and take a deep breath.
“Come here,” I tell him.
He moves closer and I guide his conflicted face onto my stomach, so he is looking up at me as I run my fingers through the lengths of his hair.
“You know you’re a good person, right?”
I ask it not knowing what else to say as he stares up at me like I’ve lost my mind.
“Some days, yeah, I guess,” he shrugs. “Why? What does it have to do with anything?”
“First of all, you are a good person every day, Whiskey, and second,” I pause to kiss his forehead, “it has everything to do with us. You and me… the way we work together. The way we fuck to get out of our headspace.”
“Okay… I’m still not sure what you are getting at, so can we just go back to the fucking?”
He smiles that stupid grin he does when he’s not listening to me because he still horny and I roll my eyes.
“No, Pax,” I say, smacking him lightly. “I’m being serious right now; I don’t think you understand how much your childhood affected who you are. And I want you to know that I love you and no matter what you say it will never change that, but I want you to get some help.”
His eyes narrow as he crosses his arms and scoffs.
“What the fuck, Vixen? Are you serious? I don’t need help, and I sure as fuck don’t need you treating me like I’m a Goddamn victim of some kind or looking at me like I’m weak.”
“You know that’s not what I’m doing, you are the strongest pigheaded person I know, you are anything but weak. I just think you need to get some of your story off of your chest, talk about the abduction with a professional so you can start to heal, that’s all.”
“That’s all, huh?” he gripes as he gets up and throws his clothing on. “Well fuck that, I don’t need to take this shit… least of all from you Vixen. When’s the last time you talked to a fucking shrink about Satan and the way she uses your head like a carnival game of Smash the Bottles? Fucking hypocrite.”
I say nothing knowing he’s right as he slams on the light and searches for his keys.
“I’m going for a ride; I’ll see you when I see you.”
“Wait, Pax!” I beg, “You’ve been drinking, I’ll leave and go home if you need space.”
He looks at me and shakes his head in disappointment.
“See you around.”
Seven
Loud Silence
The main house is empty, the guesthouse is empty, and my fucking bed is empty. I’ve been sitting here in radio silence for five days going insane wondering how far I pushed Pax past his breaking point, wishing I had said or done something differently. He said he loved me because I felt like home, never judged him, and never asked questions. I guess I screwed all of it up and I wonder if he still loves me, or if he’s ever coming back.
I’ve spent the last five agonizing days trying to do anything and everything not to hit the bottle to numb the throbbing in my chest and stuff down the tears, but there are only so many things I can do to keep busy.
It’s gotten so bad that whenever I hear the roar of an engine, I run onto the street like a lunatic hoping it’s Pax, only to find out it’s one of the twins or both of them, or some other fucker that makes me realize how much I love him and need him to come home. By Wednesday, I was so stir crazy I took a cab down to the tattoo parlor and spent three agonizing hours in the chair getting my first and last tattoo, it fucking stings but it reminds me that I am alive, that I am deserving of love, and in a way, seeing it define my hip, I realize how much I can’t bear to be without Pax. I’d hoped getting a tattoo might set me on common ground with him and get him to tell me the story of how he got all of his. I’ve asked a billion times, but he’s always shut me down. If he won’t talk to a shrink I figured maybe he could learn to talk to me.
Then when I woke up this morning to an empty bed again, I promised myself I wouldn’t do what I’ve been
