Chapter 10 #4
“On so many levels, yes." I cover my face. "He went on like that, and I was so shocked at first I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. I couldn’t believe that he really thought that way, felt that way.
Like, how could I have so badly misjudged him?
All this time, more than two years I spent with the man, and the whole time, every time I did something too aggressive, he had to fight not to vomit?
Like, what the fuck? How did I miss that? "
“He really meant that?"
"About puking?" I ask; Killy nods. "Yes.
He repeated that a few times in his rant.
He said that when I tried to take charge, it made him want to puke.
I have a feeling the reason for the visceral response went a lot deeper for him than he ever told me, and he told me stuff I know he never told anyone else.
But I think there was more. I think he went through something really heinous as a kid.
I just wish I'd known. I wish I’d seen. I wish he'd not hidden how it made him feel. I wish a lot of things.”
"Jesus, Story."
"That was…to be totally honest, that was one of the worst moments of my life.
And I've had some pretty bad moments, let me tell you.
" I sniffle a sad laugh. "The cruelty of things he said, Killy.
It was calculated to hurt me. And he succeeded.
He cut me to ribbons. Destroyed any sense of security I had in myself.
He told me I'd be a lot sexier if I could shrink my ass a few sizes.
He told me I gave terrible head. And I know that was a lie, but it still hurt.
Weird, maybe, but I…I guess I do take a little pride in being good at that.
Maybe it's slutty. I don't know, but I try to be good at everything I do.
I want to be excellent. I want to win. I want to excel.
I want to be the best at everything I do, and that includes sex.
" I sigh, blink tears away. "He told me he hated my hair.
He said I had a blown-out pussy. He said he hated my fat thighs.
He hated my chub rub. He hated my laugh. He hated everything about me."
"Which is why he was with you for two years," Killian says.
"Right? Objectively, I knew he was full of shit.
I knew he was lying and saying stuff just to hurt me.
But the thing is, he succeeded. He hit on every single one of my insecurities and vulnerabilities.
Even though I knew it was all bullshit said out of spite or fear or whatever, his words still hit their target. "
"All because you were trying to do something nice for him."
"I mean, it was for me, too, but yeah. Exactly. That makes it worse, honestly. I was standing there in the lingerie I had, for a second, felt so sexy and confident in, and he just cut me to fucking pieces because I pushed him onto the bed so I could ride him."
"Jesus,” Killian breathes. "If I didn't know you as well as I do, I'd think you were at least exaggerating, if not making it up."
"I really wish I was."
Killian kisses the back of my hand. "You want to hear my theory?"
"Yes."
"He liked it, but it scared him. I think you're right—I think he was abused in some way beyond being hit, and it made him hypersensitive about needing to be in control. I have empathy for that, I really do. But…my god."
"I agree, and I’ve come to the same conclusion.
He wanted to like it, but it hit some trigger for him and he just…
snapped. I think it wasn't just me, in that moment.
I think it was a lot of stuff he'd been harboring for a long time that just all came out, and I was the only target.
It's just one of those things where two opposite things can be true at the same time, y'know? Like, I know intellectually that a lot of his wrath wasn’t really my fault; I was just the target in that moment.
But knowing that doesn't mean his words didn't take root in my psyche and stay there.
Trauma is an insidious thing, Killian. It fucks you up in ways you don't even realize, sometimes until years later.
" I sigh. "I was able to sort of shrug off a lot of the nasty stuff he said about my body, but his whole thing about how no real man would ever want me if I kept trying to be in charge sexually? That hit and stuck. Every time I want to—or try to—” I plow onward, despite the wet shake of my voice.
“I hear his voice. Just like I hear that other guy's voice telling me to get my fat ass over there.
I hear Everett's voice, too. And now, I hear them both in a fucked-up combo package.
" I drop my voice into an approximation of a rough male growl.
"'No one wants your fat ass thinking you're in charge, Story.
Men don't like butch bitches. Especially not arrogant bitches with fat asses. '"
I can't look at him. Can't breathe.
Killian is quiet for a very long time—I steal a glance at him after a full minute of silence, and I see the distance in his gaze, I see the wheels turning, I see him processing everything I've told him and figuring out what he thinks, how he feels, and what to say.
I know Killy well enough to know that whatever he has to say, it'll be worth waiting for.