pull the lone pillow on the bed into my lap and lean against the wall, staring at the door. What a good little victim I’m being for him. My stomach sinks and my mouth dries up. I stay where I’m told to and spread my legs for him, begging him to ruin me.
I close my eyes and turn away from the closed door as Toby whines on the other side.
Jay’s not the only one fucked up in the head.
I’m so busy wallowing that I don’t hear John come in. It’s not until he clears his throat and the door shuts with a thud that I realize he's here now. The air is tense and awkward between us, and I instantly wonder if he knows.
“There you are,” he says and attempts a pleasant smile but he fails. “How are you feeling today?” he asks me cautiously, striding to the camera to turn it on and then fiddling with it as if there’s anything new to focus on. I think it’s just so he doesn’t have to look at me.
“Used,” I tell him flatly, watching for his reaction. He stills for a moment and my heart beats faster, but then he moves to the chair, the blinking red light greeting me as John takes a seat and the metal legs scrape and produce that irritating sound.
“Are you okay?” he asks me, leaning forward. It’s feigned concern. He doesn’t mean it. The realization makes tears prick the backs of my eyes, and I hold the pillow tighter.
“Why do you care?” I ask him out of anger. My words are shaky, and I use my middle finger to wipe under my eyes. I won’t cry over this. I refuse to.
“Robin,” John says my name with sympathy and compassion before rising from the chair and quickly coming to the bed. “Did he hurt you?” he asks me, and I simply shake my head. He rests a hand on my back, but he’s holding back.
“You don’t-” I try to speak, but my words are muted by the lump in my throat. “I’m hurt because I feel as though I don’t matter to you.” I tell him the truth, the raw honesty cutting me deeply. He doesn’t even remember me. My eyes water at the thought, and I wish I were stronger. I take in a steadying breath and focus on him. How much he needs me.
“Do you like me, John?” I ask him. “Do you think if things were different, that you would like me?” The question carries a heavy weight to it. He has the ability to break me and crush me into a million pieces. I need him as much as I need Jay.
“Of course I do,” John answers although he doesn’t hold my gaze. I close my eyes, feeling my body turn cold and nausea stir in the pit of my stomach. The way his voice is tense, the ‘it’s-not-me-it’s-you’ tone is there. It feels like a breakup. I struggle to breathe for a moment while he speaks, but this is all my fault. I know better than this. It’s Jay who makes me weak and stupid, who left me feeling like this. But I knew it would end like this. I’m the one who pushed.
“Yesterday, when I left-” he stops to rub the back of his neck and lets out an uneasy sigh. “I don’t know how to handle this, Robin. You’re fragile, and this situation-”
I cut him off and say, “It’s intense, but I-” I ball up my hands in frustration and scoot away from his touch. “I need you to know that what you think of me is very important to me.” I swallow thickly and gauge his reaction.
“What I think doesn’t matter,” John answers, shaking his head slightly.
“It does, John.” I reach out slowly and risk placing my fingers in his hand, and that small touch is what breaks down his walls.
He wraps his strong hand around mine and sits closer to me on the bed, scooting back and licking his lips before looking up at me.
I can feel my eyes widen as I wait with bated breath for the truth. I can tell that’s what he’s going to say. “I feel for you,” he says, and my heart thumps. “I feel a very strong urge to protect you, and to…” He trails off and waves a hand in the air as if he’s looking for the right word.
“You don’t have to sugarcoat it, John,” I tell him as