8. The Heart Wants What the Trauma Trained
The Heart Wants What the Trauma Trained
I am happy to be home, yet it holds a sense of endless monotony. The moment I open the cabinet door and notice an empty shelf rather than a bottle of vodka, I fight to remember when I had drunk the last.
Yesterday.
There is a heavy, hazy feeling when I try to remember more of what I did after work.
The answers linger inside my mind, just beyond my grasp.
The harder I try, the further away they seem to swim from me.
I let it go, allowing the sensation to fall into the back of my mind as I open the freezer to pick dinner.
There are enough frozen meals in the fridge to get me through the next few days. The only problem is a lack of vodka.
I decide that isn’t a problem.
The hangover I experienced this morning was enough to make me utter my famous and frequent lie of “never again” and if that pain held fresh, I’d make it.
The box of chicken fettuccine catches my attention, and I pop it into the microwave. It only takes minutes to make the same meal that once took my mom at least an hour to prepare. Or at least that was how long I wasn’t allowed in the kitchen during the weeknights when she made dinner.
Alfredo wasn’t one of dad’s favorites, so I only got it occasionally.
Usually, to get me to shut up.
A ding sounds, taking me from my memories as I stir the barely edible looking contents steaming from the disposable bowl. It vaguely tastes like my memories, but I add salt and pepper to enhance what little flavor I can find.
Rex and I share a look as he eats the same bites of kibble he had yesterday. Day in and day out, always the same. It’s not about flavor. It’s subsistence that matters.
“You want to pick out the next bag?” I ask, not knowing if there is any other way to bring some joy into the dog’s diet. “I’m not getting you treats. June has that covered, and don’t think I haven’t noticed the extra fluff.”
What almost looks like a smile stretches across Rex’s face.
It lasts for as long as his attention can manage before he turns back to take lazy bites from his dinner.
I don’t have the patience or desire to draw out the time I spend with my food, preferring to get it into my body and the kitchen cleaned for its next use.
There is enough cranberry juice left to pour into a glass of ice to take with me into my room. It’s acceptable. It serves its purpose. It doesn’t have to be great.
Wasn’t that what I thought about Alexander?
I lock myself in my room and turn on the television to make it feel like someone else is here with me while I get into comfortable clothes. It feels like I’m forgetting something.
I do a quick body check for any missed messages from Ghost before grabbing my phone and doing the same. The message log from when he sent me a picture of his dick is completely missing. I head to my photos next, wanting to make sure I still have the saved copy.
Except the first thumbnail isn’t a picture and has the arrow signal of a video. The thumbnail is mostly black, and it looks like a video might have started while my phone was in my purse. Might as well see if it caught anything fun.
I press play and notice movement in the dark shadows and then the camera turns and in the faint light I can make out my face. My head tilts to the side as I watch the screen, having no memory of it.
I am lying on my stomach in my bed, moving the phone away from me and pushing it into place with the tips of my fingers. My movements are uncoordinated, and I struggle to set it in a proper position. Consciousness leaves me. The camera focused on my outstretched hand.
I pause the video and notice there’s twenty more minutes.
“Fuck. No wonder I don’t remember anything,” I mumble, wondering how I got that out-of-control yesterday.
I slide the bar on the video a few minutes rather than sitting through a twenty-minute intervention directed by and starring me.
I fucking get it.
I press play again, needing to hurt myself. The soft glow of the screen casts an ethereal light on the back of my head, my face buried in the fluffy comforter.
Cathy’s voice practically screams inside my head. Get a fucking grip on yourself .
A shadow of movement appears in the video, making the hairs on the back of my neck stick up. The patch of darkness moves, coming toward my unconscious body. My heart flutters in my chest.
The camera refocuses with the movement, making the shadow take on the rough shape of a man dressed in black, other than the white skull mask covering his face.
Ghost.
I lean toward the screen and turn the volume all the way up. Heavy breathing is faintly audible, and I can’t tell if it’s coming from him or me.
“Finally, we get to have a chat, kitten.” His voice comes through the speakers of my phone, louder than I expected, and I jump before feeling a rush of warmth run through me.
He climbs onto my bed, crawling over my body and settling astride me. He leans down to whisper something the video doesn’t catch. My head moves, nodding into the comforter. Ghost reaches down, scooping me up by my neck with his gloved hand.
My hair sticks to my face, and I look abnormally pale. My everyday makeup is already smudged from my position, forming streaks of coal on my cheeks.
“You’re going to scream this time, kitten.” It sounds like a threat, or a promise. He releases his hold and my head flops back onto the bed.
I’m glued to the screen, feeling the inside of my body heat, desperate to know what he is going to do.
I wonder what I agreed to. Drunk me doesn’t have a long list of things she isn’t willing to do, and considering the man asking…
This video is going to need to be deleted.
After I watch it, of course.
Ghost leans down, appearing to kiss the back of my head. He sits up and brings one large hand flat to my back and pauses. He doesn’t appear to be pressing me into the mattress. His splayed hand is simply resting on top of my tank top, spanning most of the width from shoulder to shoulder.
“You feel so fucking good, kitten.” His hand slides down my back, reaching for the hem of my shirt before reversing course, running his leather covered fingers against my bare skin.
He leans down, and I can hear on the video as he takes a deep breath.
“Fuck, you even smell good. I just need a little taste. Then I’ll be able to control myself better. ”
My shirt rides up with his hand, leaving a patch of my lower back exposed even as Ghost works back down my body, getting closer to the hem of my underwear. Only instead of going under it, his hand slides overtop and is joined by his other as he holds my ass cheeks in his palms.
His thumbs massage, working their way toward each other and with every grab pulling my cheeks apart. My underwear blocks him from being able to see anything more.
His fingers disappear from the camera’s view and my body rocks forward.
“Not nearly ready. This might take some time, kitten,” Ghost says before ducking down between my thighs.
A moan comes from the speaker of my phone.
The sound makes my cheeks heat and I have to reposition myself, needing the movement to settle the restless energy sparking inside me.
In the video, his head remains between my legs.
My body is mostly prone on the bed, other than the slight movements of my head and various tumbling moans.
When he sits up, I catch a slight glimpse of his lips before he pushes the mask back over his chin.
He moves up my body, reaching above me to grab the phone. His painted skull mask comes into closeup view as he addresses the version of me watching.
“I bet you want to watch it, too. Don’t you, kitten?
” He chuckles, bringing the camera with him, and I stare at his masked face desperately wanting to know what he looks like beneath it.
The camera switches and I see my comatose body as he brings the phone to rest between my legs, pointing at my underwear.
A light coming from my phone illuminates the darker patch of my underwear. A gloved finger comes into view, stroking a path through the center of the cloth.
Once. Twice. Three-times before hooking the thin strip and pulling it to the side to expose my glistening folds to the camera.
Another finger, owned by the other hand, arrives at the scene next, pushing its way between my folds and directly into my center.
He stops with his finger fully seated inside of me.
“Now, you’re wet for me, kitten. All it takes is a little attention.”
His finger pumps, slipping through my arousal with ease before he adds a second. At first, I can practically feel the remnants of a memory, his fingers stretching me open and a moment later the video echoes my thoughts as he works them apart inside of me.
Mewls spill from my phone into the empty air of my bedroom. I look up from the screen, checking to make sure I am still alone. A louder groan pulls my attention back and I see he has started to rub my clit with his thumb while pumping into me with his fingers.
A guttural scream is half swallowed by the comforter, but there is no mistaking how hard I came by the shaking of my thighs from the camera’s viewpoint. Ghost pulls free from me, and I watch my folds pulse on the screen until Ghost pulls my underwear back to cover the spot.
A hand comes toward the camera before it moves, giving me an aerial view of my body. Then Ghost turns the camera toward himself, or at least, a certain part of himself. His stiff cock stands proudly, having been set free from its confines.
There it is, in all its glory. A donkey cock.
A stab of fear washes over me, worried that he is about to fuck my nearly comatose body. And it isn’t for the reason some might think I should have felt fear.
I want to remember the first time.
There are a lot of things I haven’t figured out when it comes to my thoughts on Ghost, but there are two things I know. He is my soulmate, and I want to fuck him. Or more accurately, I want him to fuck me.
He moves up my body with his cock in his hand, stroking it idly while using his thumb to swipe over the tip in a circular motion.
He releases his cock to reach down and grab a handful of my hair, which he uses as a hold to turn my head to the side.
My eyes are closed and there’s a stupid grin plastered across my cheeks along with random strands of sweat soaked hair.
That must have been some orgasm.
“Open those pretty lips, kitten,” Ghost purrs as he grabs hold of his cock again.
I obey immediately, popping my mouth open and sticking my tongue part of the way out of my mouth. Stupid grin still present.
I watch the video as he directs the tip of his cock between my lips.
My body hums with a strange sort of jealousy toward myself, yet I watch fascinated as he works the tip into my mouth, teasing himself with my body while I watch him do it.
My body feels in favor, but I’m not sure how I feel in the video as I hear myself choke.
“Good girl. Just a taste,” he growls, fitting less than half of his length inside me. He stills, holding himself in place until my head jerks. He allows it for a moment before pulling free, and I hear a desperate gasp for air.
His hand pumps his cock again, and I can see the veins straining around his hard core.
He looks ready to come at any moment, but seems to be fighting the sensation.
He moves back down my body, settling back between my thighs and my stomach bottoms out again, still hoping that he doesn’t end up fucking me.
His finger hooks my underwear to the side, exposing my flush lips.
He directs his cock over them, wetting the tip in my arousal, then slipping over my clit.
He doesn’t make his way inside me, preferring to work in the space between my underwear and pussy.
Soon I’m moaning again on the video and my hips move and grind against him.
“Scream for me, Kira,” Ghost says, and I can feel the power of his voice commanding both versions of me.
My clit throbs while the version of me on the video cries out incoherent words that bleed into desperate pants.
I hear a low moan before the camera is lowered, getting a close shot as streams of cum leak from his tip all over my throbbing clit. He slides his cock through, working it all over before pulling his cock free and putting my underwear back in place over top of the cum he left.
The video ends abruptly, without a parting message or taunting of any kind. I’m left in speechless silence.