Vandal
The sight of her wearing my old, white T-shirt, her nipples straining against the thin fabric and the visible bite marks going down the side of her neck is enough to make me want to throw her on the kitchen table and fuck her brains out. Damn Evelyn for showing up here and disrupting our morning. All that matters now is that she agreed to stay. Being with her has ignited a fire in me that I thought was snuffed out a long time ago.
I lead her wordlessly down to the bathroom and undress her, then myself. I trace my finger down the scar that runs down her side. The skin is pink, jagged and new. She shoves my hand away, and I immediately place my hand back along her ribs.
“Don’t ever push me away.” I keep my voice low and even. “Tell me how this happened.”
“No.” Tears flow down her cheeks.
“You have to let me in if this is going to work.”
She leans back against the sink. “It’s from the accident my husband was killed in. We were hit by another car. I guess a piece of the car cut into me.” She looks down at the scar. “It’s ugly.”
I kneel in front of her and drag my tongue along the length of the scar that goes from her hip to the side of her breast, goose bumps raising on her flesh. I did this. This could have killed her. She can’t be more than a hundred pounds; I have no idea how she lived through the accident. I wish my baby had been as lucky.
“You’re beautiful,” I tell her, and it’s true. She’s got classic, almost old-fashioned beauty. Porcelain skin, big sky-blue eyes, natural blond hair. She’s actually very cute. Too cute to ever be with a guy like me.
“I’m not. Not at all,” she replies.
It’s always the most beautiful people who have no idea that they are.
We shower together, but she’s despondent as I caress her body with cream lavender soap. The hot water stings the deep scratches she made in my back last night, but I don’t care. I’ll take any pain I can from her because I deserve it as much as I want it.
“Does your little plan include me having any clothes? And what about my car?” She finally speaks when we step out of the shower.
I take one of the towels we just dried off with and fold it into a nice, neat square, placing it on the floor in front of me.
“I’ll get you some clothes and take care of your car. Kneel.”
“How are you going to take care of my car, exactly?”
“I’ll have it towed to your house. Is there anything else that needs to be taken care of, like, at your house? You have any pets, or any shit like that?”
“No, I don’t have any shit like that. But I’ll call my neighbor and tell her I’m going to be gone; she can keep an eye on my place.”
I nod and point to the towel. “Kneel.”
She looks at me quizzically. “Why do you keep saying that?” She reaches for her clothes, but I take them away from her. “No. Kneel down on the towel for me.”