Chapter 5
FIVE
Unrelenting anguish tore through her, but she couldn’t stop. Even though the man on the screen, the man she loved, was glaring at her like she’d done something wrong.
Why did that make her feel worse?
No! You did nothing wrong except love someone you shouldn’t have.
Pulling back, she allowed the data, that methodical brain of hers, to rise to the fore—protecting her, speaking for her.
“Wait: a verb, meaning to remain inactive, in a state of repose, to remain neglected for a time in expectation of something. Synonyms: delay, abide, linger. That’s the Webster’s definition, but if that isn’t enough, the relationship threads on Reddit define it as a show of loyalty or commitment, to put off your own desires to show you can be trusted, to remain faithful, to make an effort to delay personal gratification….” With each word, her voice got louder and tighter…until finally it snapped. “Basically, when you tell someone you’ll wait for them, you don’t go around fucking anyone else, you keep your goddamn dick in your pants because you promised to be loyal and faithful and committed and trustworthy!”
On the screen, Red’s mouth dropped opened, his eyes wide.
Yeah, fucker, I know all about those fucking hair ties, you piece of shit!
“So…from what I gathered, your definition of wait is drastically different from mine—which is no surprise, really, because it was only a matter of time before you got bored with me, right? Tired of playing the game, pitying and toying with the shy weirdo just wasn’t as fulfilling as you thought it would be. When I didn’t fall at your feet and beg you to fuck me on camera, I lost all appeal?—”
“Shut the fuck up,” he barked, “it isn’t like that at all, Valentina— motherfuck ! Where the hell did you get all this bullshit, huh?”
She gave a humorless laugh. “I’ve seen the women in your OnlyFans videos, Redtube . I know you’ve fucked them. That collection of hair ties, your fuck tokens , on your bedpost are like a slap in the face every time you turn on your camera to chat. Leggy blondes, busty brunettes, red heads, black, Asian, Latina—you don’t discriminate. You have varying tastes—except for one thing.”
“Val—”
“They are all drop dead gorgeous. They’re so perfect and sexy and confident, it’s no wonder you wanted to play with them, to fuck them, to show them off like they prize they are.”
His voice ragged, his expression tight, he snarled, “Fuck, Val, don’t?—”
“So, even if you weren’t fucking every woman between Wilkes-Barre and Pittsburgh while still claiming to want to be with me, I know that once you actually see me, once this camera is on, once you actually know me, the real me, you’ll ghost me so fast my head will spin, and I’ll be left with a heartful of ‘I knew it’ and ‘you shouldn’t have trusted him.’”
“Fucking hell, would you please, fucking listen to me?—”
“No!” she shouted. “I’ve listened to your bullshit for months, and for the last forty-eight days, I actually believed you when you told me I was special, that you wanted to be with me, so you were willing to wait for me . Now, I get it, you didn’t actually do anything technically wrong, right? We weren’t official, you never actually claimed me, I never actually accepted the label between us—but I was fucking terrified of exactly this! That you didn’t actually want me at all, that you wanted the idea of a relationship with me. But, when reality settled in, that idea wasn’t as good as you first thought. The fact that couldn’t wait three goddamn days after making that promise before you were back to being a fuck boy, tells me that even if you were to commit to a relationship with me, it wouldn’t take long before you were fucking someone else.”
His eyes narrowed, sparking dark fire. “You think I can’t be loyal?” His voice was a low growl, intimidating, hard, raising goosebumps along her arms. She shuddered, her nipples tightening to peaks at the sound of it. But it was the words that allowed her to ignore her body’s reaction to him.
“Loyal?” she repeated, loosing an ugly chuckle. “Loyal means remaining strong, standing beside someone or some purpose despite how difficult it gets.” Pounding her fist on her desk, she cried, “Three days— three days , Redtube—after promising to wait for me, you were fucking another woman. No, it wasn’t on camera; you’re really good at keeping all the really dirty bits hidden, but the hair ties gave you away. That tells me your loyalty only lasts until you ‘ have needs ’, and then it means nothing.”
“Fuck,” he spat, rubbing hard at his face, a scowl making deep grooves beside his eyes, which were deep, dark pools of rage. “There’s been a misunderstanding, Val. If you just let me come to you, we can talk?—”
She snapped, “No more talking. No more chats or texts or calls—this is done.”
An inhuman sound erupted from his chest. “We are not fucking done, Valentina!” he growled. “You and me are going to happen, I don’t give a fuck what you think you know about me.”
She sighed.
“I will wait for you” turned into “I didn’t wait, but I can explain, and you’ll let me because you’re a desperate loser.”
Bullshit—it was all bullshit! Did he really think so little of her?
Why not? You already think so little of yourself.
There was only one way to finish it all, completely, full stop, in such a way that it stayed finished. In a way that she knew would completely end it all, even though it would rip the heart from her chest and the soul from her body. He had to see what she looked like…the bullet he was dodging by letting her end things.
“You can’t just declare us over, Val. You have to give me a chance to show you?—”
Gathering all her nerve—every last drop of it—she clicked the button to turn on her camera.
Red stopped in the middle of his sentence, no doubt alerted by the usually black screen flashing, and then her image appearing.
Now…they were face-to-face.
For the first and last time.
She didn’t speak. She let him look. To finally see her, to see why he would never want her, to see her worn-out tank top, her big tits, fat arms, her messy, dull brown bun, her pale, chubby, makeup-free face, and eyes the color of mud.
His gaze was intense, their dark gunmetal depths skimming her features. From her hair in its customary messy bun, to her common brown eyes, to her wide nose, to her wide mouth, to her fat cheeks—then over again, top to bottom.
She knew what he saw; proof that he was right to fuck around, to break his promise. She was ugly, so good thing he didn’t bother putting a lock on his cock, right?
The whole time he looked at her, she fought the urge to squirm, to click the button and turn off the camera, to escape back into the obscurity of the internet. And the whole time, he silently took in her features, his expression giving nothing away.
After long moments of silence, her body aching from holding still, she opened her mouth to say something, anything, but he beat her to it.
“Motherfuck, Valentina…” he rasped, his voice thick. Shaking his head slowly, he pinched his lips together as if forcing back words he really wanted to speak but thought better of.
Words like:
You’re ugly.
It’s a good thing you hide your face.
Wow, you weren’t wrong about looking like a pig.
Good thing I broke my promise, because you are totally not worth the weeks of celibacy.
“Valentina…” he repeated, as if her name held some unknown meaning. His jaw muscles clinched, nostrils flaring. Was he angry? Was he disappointed?
Of course, he was disappointed! Over months of chatting, of getting to know one another, he’d built her up as this amazing, gorgeous woman, and despite her warnings that she wasn’t anything like what he imagined, he’d persisted. And now the truth was revealed, and he hated that he’d been wrong. That his fantasy Valentina was really a nightmare.
Closing her eyes, the fear and anguish and humiliation rising into her chest, she forced the next words from her throat.
“And that is why you and I would never have worked, anyway. I am nothing like your OnlyFans women. I’m me.” She met his gaze, holding it, silently begging him to object, and when he didn’t, she sighed. “I wanted to trust you, to believe you were loyal, committed, willing to wait, to keep a few pieces of cake just for me…but this…this proves that, to you, I’m not worth it.” Finally, her voice broke, just as a new flood of tears broke free from her eyes.
He recoiled as if struck, his expression one of shock, but before he could open his mouth to speak, Val clicked the button to close the chat and end the call.
To end them.
Val didn’t know how long she laid in bed, on her side, staring at the doorknob on the closet door as the shadows shifted in the room as the moon moved across the sky. She stared, unable to blink, to register that it was no longer the doorknob she saw in her mind, but rather the face of the man who’d destroyed her heart.
What was he doing now after she shut down the call?
Was he sad? Was he angry? Was he happy? Was he balls deep in the next “hair tie?”
Why did it feel like the deepest parts of her had been shredded, like there was nothing left of all that she’d been holding on to since her mother’s death?
That night, she dreamed.
And it was a nightmare.
She was twelve, and she and her mom were on their way to a reshowing of The Goonies , one of her mom’s favorite movies, a movie Val had begged her mom to see since she’d first seen the trailer on a remastered DVD copy of ET . Her mom, Nissa, was a beautiful, kind, hard-working woman who doted on her only daughter, a child born from Nissa’s one-night stand with a man old enough to be her father. Nissa Ivanov, former Russian heiress, after realizing she was pregnant and therefore not worth an arranged marriage, was banished from her home, cut off by her family, and sent to live alone and abandoned in the US. Nissa, desperate to care for herself and her child, found a cash-only job working as a cleaner in commercial buildings after hours. When she couldn’t find or afford a babysitter for young Valentina, she’d strap baby Val to her back, and work scrubbing toilets, mopping, vacuuming, emptying trash cans, and dusting. By the time Val was old enough for kindergarten, she’d learned how to effectively remove stains from any kind of carpet, disinfect a toilet using vinegar, and dust without the particles filling the air.
So, when her mom had the money to splurge on something Val wanted, she did what she could to give her little girl what she wanted.
That night, coming home from watching The Goonies on the big screen in Wilkes-Barre….
“That was so good, Mama! Can we see it again tomorrow?” Val asked, exhausted after a long day but still pumped from the movie and the box of Haribo gummi bears she’d scarfed down.
Nissa chuckled. “I’m glad you enjoyed it, malyshka , but we can’t see it tomorrow; you have school, and I have to clean the township building.” Val pouted, knowing the real reason was because the movie was $24 for both of them, and they didn’t have that to spare. She might be a child, but she knew that her mom walked the four miles to work every day last week to save on gas just to buy the tickets the first time.
God, Val wished she could get a job like Mama, so she could help, and Mama wouldn’t worry so much about everything. She hated being a burden to her mom, someone she loved more than anything—her mama was her life, her whole family. Mama wasn’t working overnight shifts anymore, but she was still working 12-hour days, and when she came home at night, she still had the time and patience to help Val with her homework, watch TV with her, or just talk with her. Not once in her life had Valentina ever felt like her mom didn’t love her—just the opposite; she’d never felt more loved in her life than when her mama looked at her, her big green eyes shining with adoration, as she tucked her into bed.
But…that didn’t stop her from being a little frustrated. Hanging her head in sadness about not seeing the movie again, Val pouted. “But Mama ? —”
And those were the last words she ever spoke to her mother; a whine, a petulant push to get her own way.
The truck came out of nowhere, slamming into the rear of the small, decades-old Chevy Metro Mama had bought for cash six years ago. The car crunched and squealed, Mama screamed, Val cried out, and the brakes on the small car failed as it careened forward, over the center median and into on-coming traffic. This time, the car screeched by without colliding with another vehicle, but it wasn’t saved from hitting the guardrail, head-on, where it tumbled, end over end, down the hill from I-81 and into the large, multi-acre junk yard along the highway. The small car slammed into a rusty, dilapidated Winnebago, shattering the windshield, sending glass and scraps of metal and fiberglass siding into the front seat. Into Val. Into Mama.
Val didn’t know how long she’d been out before she woke up, smoke billowing from the front of the car, her body screaming in pain, blood cooling on her forehead and cheeks. She didn’t know how long she’d been trapped in her seat by her seatbelt and the large jagged piece of siding that had sliced through her chest then impaled itself in her abdomen, then caught fire. She didn’t know how long she cried out for help, begging for someone to come and get her out, come and save her, come and stop the pain. She didn’t know how long she sat there, wounded, slowly bleeding out, the scent of her burning flesh filling her nostrils, as her mama was slumped, motionless, against her door. She didn’t know how long she sat there, right beside her mother’s dead body, before blood loss and terror dragged her into darkness once more.
At that point in the nightmare, she’d woken up, tears cascading down her face, her hands shaking, sweat drenching her tank top and sheets, and terror thinning her blood.
No, that hadn’t been a nightmare, not really; it was a memory— the memory, that one that reminded her that she had lost the only person who’d ever loved her without reservation. Unconditionally.
Exhaling a shuddering breath, she closed her eyes and sucked in a slow, deep breath to fill her lungs again, her body trembling with the effort. She’d had that dream a million times, but that night, the dream changed…. The driver that slammed into her wasn’t a faceless shadow behind the wheel…it was Redtube, his mask in place, his eyes maniacal, as he steered his truck right into her car.
It didn’t take Freud to interpret that dream; she knew Redtube was the cause of her most recent life-changing disaster.
God…how had she let herself fall so hard, so fast, for someone who was a walking, talking, flexing red flag?
Her mother had loved her so hard and so completely, Val had never, not once, questioned it. She’d thought she could experience that same unconditional love with Redtube…Damian Daniels…but she’d been wrong.
Losing her mama at twelve years old had left a mark on more than just her body, it had left her abandoned, cut in half, desperate to find a missing piece to make her whole once more. And she’d thought she’d found that with Redtube. But his pieces were jagged, ragged, sharp and wicked. Rather than fitting snugly against hers, his pieces cut, they sliced, they scraped and scratched, leaving scars and blood behind.
They were never meant to be, even her deepest mind knew that, so why was she still thinking of him, hoping, wondering if she should just let him in…let it all bleed….