Chapter 25
KYLEN
I was so scared that Arek was going to be mad at me for running out on him.
As I waited for him, all kinds of scenarios played in my head.
He’d tell me to leave his room and never talk to him again.
He’d demand I take his clothes off and never wear them again.
He’d not want anything to do with me because I’m so fucked up, I can’t even get my dick sucked.
As the hours stretched and he didn’t come back, even more things flitted through my head. Maybe he went out with his friends and forgot about me. Maybe he went to find someone who wasn’t so fucked up, and they liked their dick touched. Maybe he’s with someone else.
But as soon as I’m in his arms, Arek sinks to the floor and wraps me tightly. He’s practically surrounding me, and a sob lodges in my chest. I won’t cry. That’s disgusting. I’m not six.
I bury my face in his neck and wish I could pretend that the last several hours didn’t happen. I wish I could handle myself more maturely. I want to take it all back and laugh it off.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper.
“No,” Arek says, voice hard. “I don’t care what you’re apologizing for; you don’t need to apologize.”
“I just… running to Kole is a knee-jerk reaction when I’m upset. I swear, it wasn’t because I don’t want to be here with you.”
“I know,” Arek answers.
“I didn’t mean to be such a coward.”
Arek growls, and I wince at the sound. This isn’t the kind of situation where his growls are sexy. Okay, that’s a lie. I’m pretty sure everything Arek does is sexy.
Using my hair, he grips the back of my head and forces me to meet his eyes. My skin burns with embarrassment, and I just want to crawl into the ground and disappear.
“I would never put my mouth anywhere you’ve told me not to, Kylen. I understand consent, and I will never cross that line.”
“I know,” I whisper. “I’m sorry—” His eyes narrowing at my apology has my words cutting off mid-sentence. “I’m… not sorry. I trust you. I promise I do.”
“I’m sorry I got too close,” Arek counters. “I shouldn’t have. I should have respected your boundaries better.”
I want to argue because he’s never pushed me. Not once. I told him what I didn’t want, and he’s not one time asked to suck my dick. He’s never acted like he wants to. He’s never made me feel bad about not wanting it.
“Can I tell you something?” I ask.
He nods.
The words are stuck in my throat as I stare into his eyes. Afraid.
“Can we shut the door? Turn off the light?”
Arek nods again. I’m prepared for him to let me go, but he doesn’t.
He gets to his feet, bringing me with him and keeping me snugly in his arms. I press my face to his neck again and breathe in his comforting scent.
He wears some kind of cologne, though it’s faint.
Like he mists the air and barely walks through it.
Otherwise, I smell fabric softener, shampoo, and a hint of…
silicone? Oh! From molding and unmolding dicks!
The recognition makes me smile, and I take another deep breath.
Arek shuts the door and turns. He shifts on his feet as he kicks his shoes off. Then we’re crossing the room where he flicks the switch on the bedside lamp, plunging us into darkness. Arek brings us onto the bed, where he curls around me once more and holds me tightly against him.
I swallow thickly around the sour taste in my mouth. “I’ve never… told anyone.”
“I’ll keep your secret.”
I squeeze my eyes shut as her face rises in my mind’s eye like a ghost. My gut twists, and I try to shove her away. But her words are loud in my head. They won’t believe you. Who’s going to believe a kid who can barely do basic math?
My inhale is a struggle. “When I was in fifth grade, I struggled in math. A lot. My stress over it began to be a problem in other areas of school, and… my teacher decided that the only way that I could pass the year was if I… gave her something in return.”
Arek’s body is completely still. His arms around me are tight. Holding me close and refusing to let me go. Keeping me completely surrounded.
I open my eyes to try to dissipate the memories flooding them. The room is dark. Very little light peeks in from the outside since his curtains are drawn. There’s safety in the dark. It doesn’t judge. It keeps what it sees, what it knows, and no one will ever have those secrets.
The darkness is safety. It’s always been safe for me to cry and pretend that I’m somewhere else.
“She wanted to touch me. She said all teachers have one of their kids who needs help, and they agree that this is a good form of payment for personal help. But as my grades got worse because I didn’t understand the information, she decided that touching me wasn’t enough of a payment.
She wanted to put her mouth on me, too. She said that if I wanted to pass fifth grade and if I didn’t want Kole to be expelled for the chaos she created, then I would do this.
I was afraid that if I didn’t pass the year, she’d hold me back and I’d have to keep doing that through the next year too. ”
Arek’s shaking. Just like he did the other day when he came into my room angry because his sister was upset.
“Are you mad at me?” I whisper, unable to help myself.
His arms tighten almost painfully. “No, Kylen. I’m not mad at you at all.” His voice is tense. Dark. He doesn’t loosen his hold on me at all.
“She said that she had permission,” I whisper. “That the principal gave her permission. That my parents signed off on extra help, and that I’d spend half my recess with her to get that extra help. That’s when she’d take her payments for extra help.” Tears sting my eyes.
All the things she said to me flood my brain as they vie for attention. Needing to come out. Needing someone to hear them. For someone to believe me.
“I swear I’m telling the truth,” I choke out.
“I know you are,” Arek says.
His words do something to my chest. It feels like I was just punched and my lungs expel all the oxygen. Tears flood my eyes.
I hate that those days are now in the open. I hate that someone knows about them. They make me feel gross and guilty and… like I want to peel my skin off. Sometimes, the memories have me feeling her touching me again, and I get sick to my stomach.
“Thank you for believing me,” I whisper, maybe too quietly to hear.
Arek is still shaking. I feel his jaw working. There’s a strange vibration in his chest as if he’s going to come apart. After several minutes, he says, “Anyone you tell will believe you.”
I know that now. When I was ten, I didn’t know that. I believed her because you’re taught to trust adults. You’re supposed to believe what they tell you. Especially teachers, right? It’s their entire job to educate you. To tell you the truth and teach you.
How was I supposed to know that the things she told me were not only lies but manipulation?
The grades she gave me on my papers weren’t the grades she put into the system.
My report cards were always good, and that was proof enough to me that she was telling me the truth.
I paid her by letting her touch me there, however she wanted to, every day during recess, and in turn, my sister remained in school, and I passed fifth grade.
To my child’s brain, it was working.
It was five or so years later that I realized the truth of the situation. That I came to accept that what I’d thought, what I’d believed was true at the time, weren’t the facts at all.
Maybe it should have been clearer the following year when I did well in my math classes. At the time, I thought that all the extra help had paid off. I understood math again.
What had, in fact, happened was that I’d never struggled with math. She just made me believe I did. She wanted to control me. She wanted something from me, so she made me believe whatever she said. And because children are supposed to respect and trust the adults around them, I never questioned it.
Adults didn’t lie after all. Lies were something kids did. That’s why parents are so angry when you lie. They don’t lie, and you shouldn’t either.
“What do you need?” Arek asks.
“I—just this,” I whisper.
Arek pulls me down onto the bed and brings the blankets up around us so tightly that it feels like I’m going to get lost in them. The silence of the room is too much, though. My childhood is getting louder with every second that ticks by.
“Talk to me?” I ask.
He takes a deep breath. “What’s her name, Kylen?”
Fear makes the oxygen in my lungs seize, and I can’t take another breath.
We don’t talk about it, or the other kids will be upset that you’re getting special treatment.
We don’t talk about it because your parents will be ashamed that you’re not as smart as the other kids. No one wants a stupid child.
I shake my head as the familiar dread settles heavily in my stomach. I don’t think I can even tell him that I can’t tell him.
“You’re safe now,” Arek says, his voice low.
Deep. A little gruff. “I will never let anyone else hurt you. I will murder them. Brutally. They will suffer. Their screams will be heard for miles. No one will ever touch you. I’ll keep you safe.
I’ll always keep you safe and take care of you.
You’re mine now. Mine. I will spend the rest of our lives making you happy.
You’ll never know fear or sadness or want for anything for the rest of forever. ”
His tone remains neutral. Always. Because that’s how Arek talks. He’s never filled with emotion—even as his body shakes—it’s barely reflected in his tone.
He alternates between the sweetest things that make my heart squishy and some slightly concerning threats for literally the rest of the world should they even look in my direction wrong. But I don’t care. I can’t bring myself to care who he threatens.
I don’t want to live with my childhood fear anymore. I never want to find myself in a situation where I feel out of control and trapped. Without a choice.
Yes, I was a kid then. I know that. Every single day, someone is taken advantage of in their teens and twenties.
When they’re old enough to know it’s wrong.
That their abuser shouldn’t be doing that.
It happens with coaches, professors, and administrators.
It happens with people you think are friends, by family, by neighbors, by presidents.
It happens, and it doesn’t matter how old you are. There’s always someone there who will hurt you if they can.
Maybe it shouldn’t, but Arek’s promise that I’ll never be hurt again, that no one will touch me for the rest of our lives—I find comfort in that. I believe him, which shouldn’t bring me comfort. I should be alarmed. I should tell someone that he’s making these threats.
But that’s the problem with the world, right?
We follow the rules, we abide by the laws, and we’re the victims. Because people who would do horrible, nasty things to young children are already breaking the laws and the rules.
Good people follow the law. Criminals, rapists, pedophiles… they’re already discounting them.
The longer Arek talks, the more relaxed I become. I trust him. I trust that he wouldn’t have put his mouth on me without my permission. I trust that he’ll keep me safe, just as he says.
I trust him.
The sound of his voice soothes all the dark places in my chest and mind that had begun to splinter at the memory coming on me so suddenly and strongly earlier in the night. It slowly settles and fades, sinking back into the dark pits where I shoved it years ago.
He smells good. He feels strong around me. His arms never slacken, no matter how long we lie together. The night stretches on, and because I’m so comfortable and safe, now that I’m at peace again, I eventually fall asleep.
Because I know I’m safe. Arek will kill anyone who tries to touch me. He said so, and I believe him.