Real’s Love

53. Theory

( Content warning: Involved discussion of domestic violence and sexual assault. Please be careful of your triggers. )

I heard his question, but I wasn’t sure I was ready to answer. Yeah, he was calm, but it was the kind of calm that was too calm. I knew he wasn’t going to listen and just let shit ride. Instead of dealing with all that, I wrapped myself around him as he sat with his back against my bed. He was holding me tightly, but…

“Targen?” I whispered.

“Hmm?” His voice was gravelly as he pressed a kiss against my ear.

“Squeeze harder.”

He complied, his strong arms banding around me so fiercely that I could feel the comfort of his warmth, the steadiness of his heartbeat, and the fine trembles of his fury.

“Every time you hold me, I never want you to let me go,” I murmured.

“I’m never letting you go, malyshka .”

I let his vow soak in, finally accepting the rightness of it.

“What does that mean?”

His fingers danced across my jaw, then my cheek.

“It means baby.”

A small smile curved my mouth. He called me the sweetest things, I swear. His words, his touch, his scent soothed me like nothing else could. Lulled by his presence and worn out from my nightmare, I felt my eyes drifting shut…

Until the tentative stroke of his fingertips slid up my thigh. I knew where this was headed. His hand brushed over the sickening scarring on my leg, and my eyes filled again. I’d seen the shock and horror on his face. I always wanted him to look at me with that mix of affection and desire I had gotten used to. But tonight, when he saw my body, he didn’t.

“I know it makes me ugly,” I mumbled.

He surprised me by laughing softly. “Theory… there’s no fucking way at any fucking time in any fucking universe that you could be ugly,” he whispered.

“Targen—" I choked suddenly, overwhelmed by his sentiment, wanting desperately to believe he really felt that way.

He massaged my ravaged thigh, the scarring still so brutal because I’d refused any kind of reconstructive work. I’d convinced myself that I deserved it, like so many people around here believed. See, the scars weren’t even the ugliest part of the story.

“Talk to me, milaya .”

“I am,” I said, pretending not to know what he meant.

“You not. You worried about my reaction. Theory, you need to accept that, one way or another, I’m gon’ find who hurt you. You need to accept that I’m gon’ enjoy watching them suffer. That’s the truth. I told you there would be no secrets between us, and there won’t be.”

I was shaking my head already. “If I tell you?—"

“When,” he interrupted me.

Frowning, I looked up at him. “What?”

“‘ When, ’ not ‘if’ you tell me, baby.”

Sighing, I leaned into him again. He was always so self-assured. With anyone else, it would border on annoying, but with him, it was sexy as hell. He was determined that I would tell him, and I was tired of fighting.

“I’ll talk… if you promise to listen to my reasoning when I finish,” I conceded.

He pressed his lips against the top of my head. “I’ll always listen to you, baby.”

That wasn’t the answer I was looking for, and he knew it. One look at his face let me know he wasn’t going to concede anymore, though. Pressing closer to his solid body, I began to talk.

“You already know I dated Jacob in high school.”

A low-pitched growl shook his chest. I smirked at the jealousy-tinged sound.

“Anyway, my senior year, one of his former teammates, a guy named Chauncey tried to shoot his shot at me. I ignored him. I wasn’t a cheater, and he was already off at college back in Mississippi where his mother’s family was from. Fast forward two years. He had transferred to LSU where Em and I were. He tried again. That time, I gave in. He was handsome and funny, and he paid attention to every little detail about me. It was like he knew me inside out. It was flattering, I guess.”

I laughed, but it wasn’t an amused sound. I was bitter when I remembered how na?ve and somewhat conceited I had been. I felt like I deserved Chauncey’s devotion, even if it bordered on obsessive sometimes. Instead of being alarmed, I thought of him as charming and extra-attentive. I asked myself over and over how I missed all the little signs, the controlling behaviors he disguised as taking care of me, the gaslighting that kept me guessing and uncertain, the?—

“Hey. Stay here with me. I got you,” Targen’s voice interrupted my disturbing thoughts. “Take your time.”

I nodded, suddenly aware of how tight my hold on him was. Loosening my grasp, I rested my forehead against his chest for a moment, searching for my next words.

“We dated for the rest of college, through my grad program. At that point, it was clear to me that we were headed in two different directions. I was excited about the future and my teaching and writing. He was still bitter about the past and being cut from two NFL teams. He had gotten so mean and he wanted to… I don’t know… possess me. He struggled with depression, too. He always had. I stayed, thinking I could help him. Then, one night…” I stopped, swallowed hard. “He just… he just went too far. I told him that I was leaving. Poured out everything I’d been feeling. I thought he understood, but the next day, he proposed.”

“What the hell?” Targen pulled back enough to look down at me.

“Down on one knee, little velvet box, the whole thing. Thankfully, it wasn’t public. I said no. He begged me to stay just a little longer, talked about how he needed me and how he really thought marriage and a family would make things right with us. I didn’t agree, but I stayed.”

I dropped my head, shame flooding me. I felt like the later incident was partly my fault, because I didn’t follow my first instinct. For years now, I had beaten myself up about it. With hindsight, I could see that Chauncey was unbalanced, and repeated disappointment had changed him. Or maybe he was just revealing more about who he really was all along.

“I stayed,” I repeated. “I know I sound like a fool, but he had been so sad. What kind of person would I be if I abandoned him while?—”

“Theory. Stop. I’m not judging you, baby. Stop judging and condemning yourself,” Targen said softly.

His fingers started a soothing stroke against my scalp. For a minute, I just enjoyed it. But I knew I had to finish this.

“All he could talk about was how happy he knew being a wife and mother would make me. And he was right. I wanted that, but in the future… and not with him. I’d been on the pill, but I got an IUD, to be even safer. I didn’t tell him. But I know I did the right thing because a week later, I realized he threw away my pills. That was it for me. The next morning, I started packing my shit for real. He watched for a minute, then left. He came back right before lunchtime, asking if he could feed me one last time while we talked. He actually used the words, ‘Debrief me, Theory. Tell me where I went wrong.’ I just wanted to leave, but he insisted, then he begged, then he cried.”

I shook my head, thinking about how easily I’d given in. If there was one thing Chauncey ruined, it was any innocence I had.

“Punk ass nigga, tryna manipulate you with tears,” Targen muttered.

“Stupid ass me, falling for it. I got in the truck. He drove for a while, farther than I expected. I asked him to take me back. He wouldn't. We made it out to the suburbs. His family had a home in the Shenadoah area down there because his father co-owned an oil business. I remember thinking how beautiful the houses were. I just stared at them as we passed. It was like some part of me knew I needed to focus on something pretty because a lot of ugly was about to happen.

He pulled into the garage, turned the car off, and told me to get out. I wouldn’t, so he left me for hours. I thought I was just as stubborn as he was. I didn’t move until he made me. He opened the door, pulled me out, and carried me into that house. He asked me again to marry him, to make a family with him. I told him again that I just couldn't. He smiled down at me, pushed the ring on my finger, and said, ‘You will.’”

I brought my hands in front of me, my right one absently rubbing my left ring finger at the memory of how he jammed the solitaire on as I tried to pull away. I didn't realize how furiously I was rubbing until Targen grabbed my hands and kissed each one.

“He started pulling me down the hallway, and I fought him. I didn’t expect… what happened. But I knew his using force was bad. He didn’t have to. He was a former football player, six-five, two hundred eighty pounds. So, I knew he wanted me to feel scared on top of powerless. He… he pulled me into his bedroom. I was screaming and punching and kicking. And he just laughed. Like, I was fighting for my life, and it was hilarious to him. He told me to stop. I wouldn't. He closed the door and let me go enough to backhand me.”

Wordlessly, I touched my jaw. The memory of the hot burst of pain still hurt.

“He grabbed me before I could fall. Asked me had I learned my lesson. I kept fighting. I got a punch to the head for it. It wasn't even as hard as he could hit, but it dazed me. I think I passed out for a few seconds because the next thing I remember was being on his bed and my dress was gone. And then everything was gone. I never realized how much difference being aroused could make. I didn't want him… w-wasn’t ready. So, when he…”

I stopped, dropping my head and feeling hot tears splash against my arms. Targen pulled me impossibly closer.

“Theory—”

“I thought he was tearing me in half. I did pass out then. I was lucky that time.” Pressing a hand against my mouth, I tried to physically hold back a sob. “I was awake the rest of the night while he—” Shaking, I cut my sentence off abruptly. “Anyway, he fell asleep at some point while the sun was coming up. I waited and then tried to slip out of bed. I sat up and he grabbed my hair and pulled me back. He apologized before he slapped me again. Before he raped me again.”

I managed to say it without much feeling in my voice even though I felt like a mass of raw pain inside.

“Jesus Christ, milaya . You think I'ma allow his bitch ass to live? There's not one fucking scenario where that happens. You can be as mad as you want, but let's be clear about that.”

Targen’s voice was tight and furious. I shook my head, refusing to accept what he said. I just had to finish telling him, make him understand.

“He told me afterward that if I'd stop crying, he'd let me shower and give me food. I agreed, thinking he was having a change of heart. When I finished breakfast, he dragged me back to that room… I just… I shut down in a way. I know I woke up there two more mornings. On the last morning, he talked to me more and tried to see if I was on board with his plan. I just shook my head. H-he started to assault me again. On top of everything I’d been through, some one-in-a-million shit happened. My doctor told me it was rare, but somehow, Chauncey felt the strings from my IUD. Once he realized what I had done, he got so mad. He started to beat me. It was a relief, like, I honestly hoped he was going to kill me,” I admitted, my voice thick with unshed tears. “I wanted to die by then.”

“Theory… milaya… no. Your life is too valuable. Damn, baby, don’t talk like that.” Targen whispered.

“My lack of response pissed him off. He said if I wouldn’t have his baby, I wouldn't have another man’s. I remember he reached toward the nightstand, and then, there was so much blood and pain. He wanted to destroy my womb, but he wasn't good with anatomy.” Another dark laugh escaped me. “My abdomen, my thigh, the top of my p?—”

“Jesus, baby,” he interrupted hoarsely, his hand massaging my scars.

“His… his father came in and found us after my family had started looking for me. It's the only reason he didn't kill me.”

I sighed and closed my eyes, glad to have most of it out. For a while, Targen just held me. At some point, he moved us to my bed. I lay in his arms, facing him as he gently ran his thumb across my cheek. Finally, he spoke.

“Killing him in prison will have to be fast, unless I can arrange to have that pussy ass nigga taken out one night and returned. I want to go slow. I want him to suffer.”

My eyes flew open, and I swallowed.“He-he’s not in prison,” I whispered.

Targen’s thumb dragged to a slow halt against my cheek. I watched as his expression changed to a scowl. He rose on one elbow to look down at me.

“Fuck you mean, that nigga not in prison?”

“He was arrested, but his family had money. His father and his uncles had successful businesses, enough to pay his doctors to exaggerate the effects of the Major Depressive Order that Chauncey had. That was the first step in their plan. My family is not exactly poor and is well known in Louisiana, too, so they pushed initially. They did it quietly, wanting to protect my location and make it hard for people to figure out who the alias in the paperwork was for. As a sexual assault victim, my name was protected. But Chauncey’s mother is a lawyer. She and her team made sure his name wasn’t mentioned much, either. I know now her Mississippi family helped with that. Then, she created a case in which a combination of antidepressants and sleeping pills caused a reaction that lowered Chauncey’s inhibitions and prevented him from making sound decisions. He had a break with reality, they said. I had been with him five years, watched depression lay him low sometimes. His medication was always the same. And he was never violent until after I got my Master's and told him I wasn’t happy in our situation. Then he started being ridiculously possessive and jealous. Chauncey also told his mother… things after the attack.”

“What things?”

I focused my gaze on his chest, trying to put together the words that had so humiliated me back then. Therapy meant I wasn’t ashamed like I had been, but I wondered what Targen would think of me.

“Theory, malyshka , what things?”

“Do you know what forced—” I cleared my throat and tried again. “What forced or reluctance fantasies are? What Consensual Non-Consent fantasies are?”

He nodded, and I squeezed my eyes shut again, embarrassed as hell. He probably thought I was some sick, self-destructive masochist. Might as well just push through so he could leave, as I was sure he wanted.

“I had them. He knew. We talked about them. Talked about staging a scene. His mother said she would claim that I pushed him and begged him for that. That those days of repeated attacks were all a plan. That I was deviant and that I insisted he do it. His break from reality meant he couldn’t tell what was real. The pressure of it, the pressure she claimed I exerted, was what made him snap and stab me. She knew I was thinking about teaching high school. She said she’d make sure everyone knew how perverted I was. She had texts and emails, even a couple of voice memos. She could spin it all and destroy me, make Chauncey the victim. My students would be old enough to hear about it, and who would want me around impressionable teenagers? She’d already started a whisper campaign in Emancipation. My parents brought me here after I was released from the hospital. People looked at me crazy, even some of my own family. Family closest to me wanted me to fight them, but I was scared and embarrassed and had no fight in me right then. I was so mad at myself. For staying. For getting in that truck. For sharing those stupid fantasies with him. I was so smart to be so stupid, Targen. So, so stupid!”

I turned away from him, wanting to make it easier for him to go. He surprised me by grabbing my arm. I struggled half-heartedly. Although he handled me gently, he easily rolled me back over and pulled me right next to him.

“Stop. Nothing he did was your fault. You're not stupid for trying to be there for someone you cared about. You're not stupid for sharing your fantasies with the boy who was supposed to be your man. And you had no reason to be embarrassed. Look at me, Theory.” When I refused, he grabbed my hand and pulled it across his scars. “From the time someone fucked up my face when I was twenty, some women have been fascinated. With my size and damaged face, I attract women who think of me as the beast or the monster or the giant in their adult fairytales. Some of them have fantasies like you mentioned. What I learned is that those fantasies are not about an actual violent attack like what happened to you. They're about not having to be in control of everything. And they don't have to feel guilty because the fantasy lets them feel like they aren't giving up control; it's being taken from them. They want to be taken. Taken sexually, yes. But also taken from demanding lives where they have to always be on their shit. For a moment, they want to be dominated, to not have to worry about making decisions and choices. There's no shame in that, shorty.”

The way he was looking at me, so sincere and like he still wanted to hug me, had me releasing a breath I didn’t know I was holding.

“You don’t think I’m sick or disgusting?”

Leaning down, he let his lips graze mine.

“Nothing about you disgusts me, Theory. Nothing .”

I snuggled into him then. I didn't know what else to do. I was so tired from reliving the incident , but relieved that he knew and was still holding me.

“Do you know where he is?” Targen asked after a while.

“There was a plea deal. They talked a lot about his mental illness or defect and the fact that he had never been in trouble. Behind the scenes, they talked to my attorney and Prime. He’d be held for a few years at a psychiatric facility. His family promised to keep him away from me forever. I had to support the plea deal or watch my life and career chances be destroyed. And the Mississippi family was already making themselves known. Prime didn’t have the farm protected back then like he does now. One of the barns and one of the storehouses were arson targets. In the second fire, one of the farmhands was badly injured. Prime locked us down because Emancipation’s little police force was no help. I understood the warning. I didn't argue against the plea deal. I just wanted them to leave me alone. I guess someone forgot to tell him the details. But I don't want a fight with them, Targen. Just?—”

“There's not gon’ be a fight. I'm just gon’ kill him and maybe his mama and other attorneys and definitely the wannabe thugs out of Mississippi.

“If it was just me, that would be one thing. But it’s selfish to put my family at risk because I want vengeance.”

My voice was trembling with exhaustion and frustration. He needed to let this go.

“Your family won’t be at risk, milaya . You have to know there’s shit out there bigger and badder than his Mississippi connections.”

“I know. I understand, but?—"

He moved me so that I was eye level with him. Shifting forward, he kissed me, long, slow, and sweet. When he pulled back, his eyes bored into mine.

“Just know that I come from that bigger and badder, baby,” he said.