Hana
I don’t know what came over me when I asked Jack and Michael to have sex with each other. It was absurd to even think about; I knew there was no way in hell they would do it. I was getting greedy. But having them both at the same time was exhilarating, and I wanted more.
Having either of them, at any time, was exhilarating lately. It almost felt like we were sneaking around when Jack and I would take a hot shower together, or when Michael and I would have a quick fuck against the giant glass window in his room.
Only five days into living at Michael’s apartment together and I almost thought we were all going to get along just perfectly. Jack had a lot of meetings during the day, leaving Michael and I alone together, and Jack and I would stay up until the wee hours of the morning while Michael slept. It seemed like everything was going to work out just fine, until I woke up to yelling in the living room. It was dark outside, so it must have been early morning—why would they both be up without me at this time?
I crept my way into the hall and heard scuffling and murmured voices downstairs. As I poked my head around the corner, I saw Jack holding Michael’s arm behind his back and Michael trying to shove Jack off him. They were trying to be quiet as they shifted their weights, Jack’s grip loosening from Michael’s arm, until they both backed into the fridge behind them.
“What the fuck is going on?” I yelled.
They suddenly broke free from each other, shock spreading across their faces. I quickly stepped down the stairs.
“Jack?” I turned to him expectantly, waiting for an answer.
“He’s fucking crazy, Hana. He’s made up some ridiculous story,” Michael started, out of breath.
“It’s not ridiculous, Hana. Look at his skin to see what I’m talking about,” Jack chimed in.
My eyes were bulging out of my head. “What the fuck do you mean?” I asked Jack, walking closer to them to prevent another fight.
“Look—look right there on his bicep. On his left arm.” Jack pointed.
Michael crossed his arms, looking at Jack with narrowed eyes and a scowl on his face. “You’re fucking out of your mind,” Michael hissed at Jack.
Now my curiosity was piqued.
“Why not just show me your arm, Michael?” I asked gently as I walked closer to him.
Michael watched me with hesitant eyes. He was hiding something. He had never given me that look before. I waited as he scratched his beard and looked to the floor.
“Before he tells you this ridiculous story, Han, I’ll tell you what really happened,” he explained, his voice quiet as he looked up at me.
Jack snorted. “Yeah, let’s hear your version.”
I whipped my head to look at Jack. “Please. Let him talk, Jack,” I snapped and then turned back to Michael.
My stomach dropped as Michael lifted his left arm and revealed scars that started from his elbow and ended almost to his armpit. I walked closer and realized those scars spelled something…my name. I looked up at him with wide eyes.
“I told you I went mad while you were gone, Hana.” His eyes were sullen and almost black in the faint kitchen light.
I ran my fingers over my name on his arm. How had I not noticed before? They were slightly raised and pale red, almost white.
“How did you know about this, Jack?” My voice was barely audible as I removed my fingers from Michael. I looked over at Jack when he didn’t respond.
He crossed his arms before he spoke. “Jessica spoke to his ex-girlfriend, Jackie.”
My heart dropped.
“Why does she know about it, Michael?” I turned to him.
Michael clenched his jaw. “You and I weren’t together anymore, Hana. I made some bad decisions. I’m not proud of myself,” he answered defensively.
As much as he was right, I still felt a pang of jealousy. But what right did I have? Here I was asking for both of them.
Jack cleared his throat. “Do you want to continue with that story, Michael? About what you did to poor Jackie?”
I could tell he was having a good time patronizing him. Tears started pooling in my eyes. Whatever it was, I knew I wasn’t going to like it. My heart started to bang in my ribcage as I stared at Michael expectantly.
Michael sighed and shook his head. “This is where you’re wrong, Jack,” he started then turned to me. “She told Jessica that I tied her up and cut my name into her. That’s absolutely not true. I told you how she got when we were dating, Hana.”
“Nope,” Jack butted in. “No, Hana darling. The truth about that—well, Michael was pretty awful to Jackie. Weren’t you?” He turned to Michael then back to me, not letting him answer. “He made her comply whether she wanted to or not. She tried to break things off and that’s when he tied her up and carved his name onto her the first time. Poor thing. He said he wanted to ruin her for any other man. He also threatened to ruin her life if she ever told anyone.”
I was speechless. I shook my head at Michael as a tear fell down my cheek.
“Hana, you know that’s not true.” He shook his head at me, disgust apparent in his face. “Are you going to believe someone who fucking kidnapped you?”
Jack immediately chimed in. “You’re going to believe someone who fucking put a knife to your throat and threatened to kill you as he fucked you? Hana, that’s fucking heinous and you know that!”
My head spun as I tried to process everything. “Shut up, both of you!” My breathing was heavy and shaky.
They both looked at me with wide, angry eyes. I didn’t know who to believe. Was I really going to believe Jackie’s word against Michael’s? But what if Jackie was telling the truth? He admitted to cutting my name into himself. He likes to tie up his subs. If he had gone “mad,” what was to stop him from doing all of those things?
“I need to talk to each of you alone. Michael.” I took his hand and guided us toward his room.
“Remember everything he’s been doing to you lately, Hana,” Jack called as we went up the stairs.
I closed the door behind us, and Michael started pacing around the room.
“Please just tell me the truth, Michael. I will try to understand if you tell me something I don’t want to hear,” I said quietly as I sat on his bed.
He stopped pacing and put his hand to his beard quickly. “I don’t know what I did, Hana. Honestly, I drank so much that I blacked out. But you need to believe me, Hana. I wouldn’t do something like that,” he explained with tears in his eyes. He got on his knees in front of me, holding onto my waist for dear life. “Please, Hana. I can’t let you leave me again. You can’t believe what they’re saying.” He started sobbing into my stomach, clenching my shirt with his fists.
“Okay, baby,” I whispered, crying along with him; my heart hurt so badly at the sight of him like this. I looked down and took his face in my hands, looking at the despair in his eyes. Did I believe him? What if he really did do those horrible things? Was this his guilt seeping through? But who was I to judge when I fell in love with someone who kidnapped me? But…these horrible things weren’t happening to me. I could forgive the things that were done to me. But what if this poor Jackie wasn’t “crazy” after all?
I took Michael’s hand and led him onto the bed. I wasn’t in any mood for sex; I wanted genuine cuddling and connection time with him. And when he continued to sob into my chest as we lay in bed, I started to believe that everything he was saying was true.
* * *
I didn’t sleep much after that. Jack moved around the apartment loudly; I had left him hanging, but I felt like Michael needed me more at that moment. When Michael finally let go of me during his sleep, I rolled out of bed and went to search the apartment for Jack. I found him in his room, hovering over a canvas with a paintbrush in his hand.
“Jack,” I greeted him quietly.
He looked up at me quickly, his face void of emotion, then looked right back down at his painting.
I walked closer and sat down next to the canvas; I realized it was an outline of my face, my eyes looking right back at me.
“You’re painting me?” I smiled, already flattered. He had never painted me before, and I didn’t know why it never crossed my mind.
He pointed at a sketch next to the canvas and it finally dawned on me what he was painting: It was me giving a blowjob, with great detail, right down to the highlights of each strand of my hair. I immediately rolled my eyes; should I still be flattered? I didn’t say anything as I stood and wrapped my arms around his shoulders, just wanting him to talk to me.
“Baby,” I whispered.
“No, Hana. I don’t want ‘baby’ right now. I’m fucking livid,” he spit out, shaking me off his shoulders.
“Livid?” I questioned. “Why? Because I spent a couple of hours with Michael?”
Jack threw down his paintbrush, red splattering all over the canvas. He turned around to face me, his eyes filled with resentment as he stared down at me. “No, Hana. Because my own wife doesn’t believe me when I tell her that the other dick she’s sucking is actually a huge fucking psychopath.”
I shook my head and crossed my arms. “I don’t know what to believe, Jack. I don’t think Jackie is a very reliable source,” I bit back.
Jack let out a forced laugh. “You’re delusional if you believe for a second that he wouldn’t actually do that.” He narrowed his eyes at me angrily.
My face twisted into an ugly cry, a panic attack on the horizon. “What if I do believe it?” I whispered, throwing my hands into the air. “We all do terrible shit, Jack. You should know that.”
His eyes popped wide open, and his jaw went slack.
“Hana.” He shook his head, putting his hands to the sides of my arms. “What if he was going to do that with you? What if I had never come? What would your fucking excuse be then?”
I felt sick to my stomach. Jack always told me the truth, whether it was something I wanted to hear or not. Jack could scare me, he could hit me, he could even fucking force me to marry him so everyone I loved didn’t die. But he always admitted when he was wrong. He admitted to all the horrible shit he did. He didn’t pretend to be a good person. I knew he was trying to tear Michael and I apart; I feared that it was working.
“I don’t know, Jack. I don’t know. I need some sort of evidence. It’s his word against hers,” I finally choked out as I sat on his bed, my whole body shaking.
“God damnit, Hana!” Jack yelled, putting his hands up to his head. “You need evidence? I’ll get your fucking evidence.”
I continued to sob as Jack lifted his shirt off and unbuttoned his jeans. I knew he was getting worked up, and I wanted him to fuck me hard. I scooted back on the bed, wanting him to rip off my clothes. I didn’t want to think anymore, I just wanted to feel good.
“That’s right, my fucking whore. You like seeing me angry? You like getting me all riled up?” he spit out as he tugged down my leggings and underwear in the same motion.
“Yes,” I moaned. “I want you to hurt me.”
“Now that your body is all yours again, it’s mine. You want me to hurt you like I did the night of our wedding party?” He hovered over me, his arms on either side of me.
I started to laugh, a surprise even to myself. “Since when does Jack Maynor ask permission for anything?”
The anger in his eyes dissipated instantly and was replaced with a heart wrenching somber stare. “You’re right. I’m just as bad as he is. If not worse.” His eyes widened as he looked from my eyes to his hand beside me.
“No.” I shook my head. “I love you. I love you, Jack. I didn’t mean it like that.” I sat up as he rolled over and lay on his back.
Jack scoffed and eyed me intently. “Then how did you mean it?”
I shook my head again. “I know you’ve done terrible things, Jack. But you own up to them. And I still love you,” I explained, gently circling his chest with the tips of my fingers.
Jack was quiet for a while. “Do you love me more than you love him?” he finally asked, hesitantly waiting for an answer.
My heart ached. Staring at my doe-eyed Jack, I knew what my answer was.