Empire of Lies - Whitney G. Page 0,64
the far better player than I am, and this is the ultimate checkmate.
He looks at his watch, and then he walks to his car and slips into the driver’s side, pulling off without word.
He disappears into the distance and although I’m struggling to hold back tears, I can feel my heart shattering in my chest.
I was such a fool for ever trusting you…
Michael
Now
I stare at Meredith in my rearview mirror as I drive forward and leave her in my past. That’s where she’ll remain for the rest of her life.
She was a mere chapter in my book and this is our final page.
No happily ever after included.
I watch as she wipes her eyes, as she moves to the middle of the road and throws up her middle finger.
I consider throwing it back, but I don’t.
I just keep driving.
As I move farther away from her, I feel a familiar pang return to my chest—the same one I felt once before when I almost completed the intended job and killed her.
I can also hear a voice in my head, begging me to go back and get her—to come up with another alternative, where we can perhaps be together, but my job is done. I’ve done far more than I’m supposed to do for her, and one day she’ll be able to see that.
Truth is, I’ll never be whole or able to completely care for anyone besides myself until I finish dealing with the people who have brought me years of pain. I need to spend the next few months focusing on trying to put it away once and for all, even if I know that it’s hopeless to dream of a night when it won’t haunt me in my sleep.
Meredith may be just as broken and lonely as I am, but she’ll never know the same type of pain. She’ll never know what it feels like to cope after being “burned so badly”…
Michael
Long Before
When Someone “Burned Me That Badly…”
Trevor trembles in the cold, looking at me with tears in his eyes. “Did you win your chess match up there today?”
I don’t answer.
We both know that he doesn’t care. He’s just asking a question to pass the time, trying to make me think about something other than the hellish state of our existence.
“I’ve managed to make a few new friends down here,” he says. “I mean, granted they can’t talk, but it’s been the highlight of my day.”
I say nothing. I can’t play the ‘let’s pretend this isn’t happening’ game right now. The signs of reality are far too strong, too unforgiving.
“Michael?” He shakes my shoulder. “Michael, you’re zoning out again…”
I can’t help it.
He’s currently chained to the metal pole behind the washing machine, and I’m free to roam about this small, windowless room. For now.
Five hours from now, I’ll be chained and he’ll be free. It’s a rotating punishment, a twisted, psychological experiment that weighs heavily on my mind every single day.
“Michael, can you please talk?” He begs. “Say something…Anything.”
“What did he make you do earlier today?” I ask him a far more important question. “Who was up there when you went?”
He shakes his head, and he starts to answer, but no words come out. Just cries.
He’s always been the more emotional one between us, although getting passed around and sexually abused will break down any person. Even me at this point, but I’ve stopped letting it show.
Tears have never saved me or given me any grace. They’ve never stopped our Uncle Avery from using us like pets, torturing our minds on a daily basis, or offering us up as options for his sick and perverted friends.
They come every other day like clockwork, dressed in their thousand dollar suits with pictures of their families tucked into their designer leather wallets. They exchange pleasantries over a cup of coffee or tea on the “luxurious” side of the house, and they say things like, “Lovely weather we’re having,” or “How many rounds do you think you’ll go today?” It’s all coded conversation, a way to ask which one of us they want, how rough they plan to be.
That part of the house is right above us, and we’re only privy to see it when these men stop by. Our uncle always has us ready and waiting for them. Freshly groomed and showered. Left alone naked with packs of condoms, a bottle of lube, and a soundproofed bedroom.
For most of the men, me and Trevor are just sex. For others, we’re the subjects of the