Jack
My plan had worked—I had gotten Hana pregnant. The first time we had sex, she told me she took the Depo shot as birth control. When I took her, I deleted the reminder on her phone and canceled her follow-up appointment in late February. It happened a lot sooner than I thought it would. Now Hana was even more bound to me; I knew she wanted children and I was on the way to giving her one. Now she could never leave me, even if she wanted to. That was my child and there was no way she could take that away from me.
I watched through the camera as she took all of the tests to be sure of the positive. She started cursing to herself—perhaps she had changed her mind about wanting children. I would never let her get rid of it, though. I was going to make sure she was well taken care of and that she and the baby were as healthy as possible.
She wrapped the tests with toilet paper and stuffed them at the bottom of the bathroom bin. Was she trying to hide it from me? She stared at herself in the mirror for a long time; I wondered what she was thinking. I wondered if she would tell me when I got home. How could I let her know that I knew without telling her? Perhaps I could find the tests in the bin. She wouldn’t be surprised at me snooping in the trash, looking for any evidence of wrongdoing.
So many questions ran through my head as I cleaned up my work space, getting ready to head home to my pregnant wife. Would I be a good father? All I had to do was provide a safe, nurturing home for this child. I didn’t plan on killing myself and letting my child find me, like my father had done to me. I wouldn’t fuck up my child’s life and leave him with abandonment issues. I would provide love and security, like I was doing with Hana. I would never lay a hand on my child—I was getting better about that with Hana. I hadn’t gotten angry at her since she came back to me, and I didn’t intend to hurt her again. She still liked it very rough while having sex, which gave me a release for the urges I had every now and then. When she begged me to hurt her the night of our wedding reception, I felt like a fucking god. It was the most incredible night of my life. I felt guilty afterward, but she had literally asked me to do it—she begged for it.
I started getting hard at the thought. I knew it was fucked up of me to enjoy myself that much, but I loved that I bruised her and claimed her body as mine. It was fucking thrilling.
I knew I wanted to rough her up a little bit that night during sex. The thought was in my head too much now. Even pregnant, she could handle a little bit of my roughness. I just needed to not get too carried away. I couldn’t do that to her anymore.
Fuck, concentrate!I caught myself daydreaming and fantasizing as I stood at the door of my loft. The loft had given me such precious memories; it’s where I made Hana mine. I don’t know how I got away with it, but I did. I had made Hana realize that she loved me, that she needed to be mine as much as she needed to breathe. And now she was mine forever.
* * *
I texted Hana while on the train, letting her know I was on the way home. The edges of my lips lifted when I saw the little bubbles pop up immediately, alerting me she was responding. I knew she was deeply in love with me and as codependent as I was. I couldn’t believe she didn’t run off to the police when she had first left me. That’s how I knew she was really in love with me. It was so easy to lure her back; she knew she needed me. She knew she didn’t belong with Michael. She belonged to me. It was obvious that I was obsessed with her, and she liked that. I would do anything it took to make her happy, including making sure she would never leave me again. She would never be happy with anyone else, especially that twit Michael. I did her a favor by cutting her off from that boring, mundane life. She didn’t even really ask to see Emily or Billie, not that I would let her, not without me.
Once she was mine again, she never took her hands off me. I knew how fucking wet I made her—I could tell by the way she looked at me when we “accidentally” bumped into that coffee shop twelve weeks ago, the day before I brought her to the loft. I could tell by the way her cheeks reddened when she looked at my toned arms—which I had worked really hard for, just for her—and by the way she bit her lip every time she looked longingly at my lips. It was so fucking obvious that everything I had been planning was the right thing to do.
I smiled down at my phone while reading her text: I can’t wait to see you. I’ve missed you all day.
I’d missed her as well, even though I had been watching her nearly all day while finishing my work.
Someone called out my name as I exited the train at my stop. I turned around and there was that tenacious fucking cousin. I gave her my best fake smile.
“Emily.”