Dawn Reveries
DAWN REVERIES
Jacob,
It’s been ten years.
It must come as a shock to you that I’m writing, mostly because we haven’t spoken in all this time, but I’ve found myself thinking of you as of late. I wonder how you’re doing, the person you’ve become, and what role I’ve played in getting you there.
I’ve been reexamining my life lately. I don’t want to go into details, but it’s been… well, rough isn’t the right word, but I don’t know which other one could do it justice. As part of my journey to heal, I’ve been trying to make amends to those I’ve wronged in the past. In writing, I’m seeking forgiveness for any pain I’ve caused you.
This sounds entirely selfish, doesn’t it? That I’m only writing to you to make myself feel better? Selfish or not, I really am curious how you are.
I remember you loved to bake. Do you still do that? You’d sift around the kitchen—floating, truly—and make me the most delicious goods one could eat. You always had a natural talent for it, and I hope you’ve been using the gift God gave you.
Do you still bring a pen with you to doodle on restaurant napkins? That was always a quirk I found so endearing, how you found so much wonder in the world, simply in the ordinary.
You don’t have to write back, but I have enclosed a return address in case you do. It’d be wonderful to catch up and see what our lives look like now. Maybe one day.
I’ll always carry a great fondness for you, Jacob.
May God be with you.
Sincerely,
Matteo.
“What the fuck are you doing?”
I snap my head up. With trembling fingers, I stuff the letter into the desk drawer before David can see it. “N-Nothing.”
He enters the room, his massive form taking up all the space.
He always takes up all the space .
“You’re not even ready for fuck’s sake,” he barks, and I shouldn’t be surprised at the rough slap that crashes across the back of my head. “Get yourself together.”
I nod rapidly. I reach for the lipstick on the desk, putting it on with a shaking hand. My eyes twitch up towards him as I tap my feet nervously. “Do you… Do you have any more?”
To this, he curls his upper lip. Fishing through his pocket, he pulls out a little clear bag filled with white powder. He tosses it gracelessly in front of me, and I pounce on it. Without even asking for permission, I’m opening the bag and pouring a bit out, using my tweezers to form a thin line.
“So, I was thinking…” he begins, sucking on his upper teeth. “I think we might have a little time before your shift.”
I stop with my head halfway down over the powder. Everything in me revolts, but he’s already manhandling me until I’m bent over the desk, my cheek pressed against the rough wood. He pulls my flimsy boxer shorts past my ass and spreads my cheeks, a long line of his spit hitting my less than enthusiastic hole.
I close my eyes as he fucks me. I always close my eyes. Ten years with this man and I’ve never enjoyed what he does to my body. How he uses me…. That’s what it feels like. Like I’m being used and defiled and tainted.
But I let him fuck me because that’s what you do when you’re in a relationship. Even if he’s mean and even if he hits you, sex is just a part of it. My body jostles with every one of his thrusts, the stretch is just a bit painful since he didn’t spend the time preparing me. My mind drifts to the show I have to put on in a few minutes. Stripping was never a part of the plan, but life never does go as planned, does it?
He left the door open, so I hear his buddies walking by as he takes me. Some snicker, others hoot and holler, and the wet squishing sounds can’t be mistaken. I should be ashamed that a bunch of greasy assholes are watching me get fucked, but I can’t find it in me to care.
Not when I tip my head at just the right angle so my nose aligns perfectly with the powder and take a deep inhale.
And just like that… I feel nothing at all.
Coming Soon…