Melancholy
Page 7
S – I just wanted to see how you were.
M – I’m fine. Goin’ to be there in ten.
S – You’re coming to see me?
M – Don’t act like that shocks you. Mack said you wanted to shower.
S – You might not be allowed in. It’s getting late.
M – I’ll get in.
I sigh, and put the phone on the table beside the bed. He’ll get in, all right. I lie back against the pillows and close my eyes, waiting. I must drift off, because I feel a hand against my cheek what seems like only seconds later. I open my eyes, and Maddox is staring down at me.
“Just droppin’ your clothes off.”
“I . . . ah . . . thanks.”
He tilts his head to the side. God, he’s beautiful. So fucking beautiful. I hate that any man would look this good. His long, dark hair falls down over his shoulders, so thick and beautiful. He’s built like a statue. His muscles are big and hard. His chest, which I’ve had the pleasure of seeing many times, is defined, and runs perfectly down to his eight-pack.
Yeah, the man has the full eight-pack of love bumps. Then there’s that V . . . oh boy. He’s got a chest full of tattoos, even some running down his belly. The one I hate is across his back. I hate it because it’s my name, Santana in big, black, angry letters.
“Maddox,” I whisper.
He leans in closer. “Mmmm.”
“I’m safe . . . right?”
He nods. “Never let anything happen to you, Tana. You know that.”
“So, I can . . . go out once I get home?”
He tilts his head to the side, studying me. “Depends.”
“On?”
“You can go out, with the protection of the guys or me.”
I close my eyes. “Maddox-” I begin, but he cuts me off.
“Ain’t givin’ you a choice. I can’t keep you housebound, but I sure as shit ain’t lettin’ you out alone. You can argue, but it’ll do you no fuckin’ good.”
“Fine,” I mutter. “Fine.”
“You wanna tell me why you’re askin’ that question?”
“I, ah, I want to go out with a friend Saturday night. That’s all.”
“You’re a bad fuckin’ liar. Now tell me the damn truth.”
I sigh and turn to him, our eyes meeting. “I’m . . . I’m seeing someone, Maddox.”
I’ve never seen a man change from relaxed to stiff so quickly in my life. His entire body jerks, and his shoulders straighten. His face hardens, and I watch in shock as his mouth forms a hard line. Oh shit.
“It’s nothing serious,” I say quickly. I don’t know why I need to justify my actions, but his look . . . it’s hurting me. “I just wanted you to know, considering all that’s happened.”
He proceeds to hurt me more when he turns without another word and disappears out of the room. I call out for him, but he doesn’t come back in. I wait. I wait, and I wait. But I know he’s gone.
Well shit.
CHAPTER FOUR
2008 – Santana
I stroke my sister’s hair, singing softly to her as she falls into a deep slumber. I stare down at her, knowing all of this is for her. There is no other reason I fight the way I do. When her breathing evens out, I push to my feet and walk out of the room, closing the door softly behind me.
My feet feel heavy as I walk down the halls, knowing what I’m walking into, knowing how it’s going to feel. The pain won’t hold me back, though. Nothing will. Instead, the pain will be what drives me to let him hurt me. He knows I need him now. He knows he’s all I’ve got, and if I’m honest, he’s all I want.
There is no beautiful reason for the attachment I feel towards Kennedy. The reason I want him is because he gives me what I want, what I need. He knows how to take the pain away, to let me pretend for just a moment that I’m anywhere but here.
“Come here, Tanie,” he murmurs, stroking his knee.
Kennedy isn’t a cruel man; he doesn’t hit me or hurt me. When I came to him six months ago, desperate and cold from the streets, he took Pippa and I in. One night only four months ago, four short months, he gave me something to help me feel better.
From that day on, he gives me what I need, when I need it.
I walk over to him, wishing I had the willpower to turn away. I’ve tried it, but nothing can make me turn from what he’s offering. What he gives me makes me feel good inside, and I figure if I’ve got control over it, what can it hurt?
Oh, how stupid I am.
I slide onto his knee and his arm snakes around my waist. He smiles at me, showing me a dimple in his cheek as he ties a little yellow tube around my arm. I close my eyes, leaning into him, relishing in the feeling of the needle breaking my skin and the warm rush of liquid that fills my body as he injects me with pure heaven.
Everything leaves. Nothing hurts.
A smile plays lazily around my lips as I lean into him. He drops his ear to my lips, murmuring words I know I’ll forget tomorrow. “I have big plans for you, Tanie. Big plans. This will help.”
His words don’t sink into the parts of my brain that they should. Instead, I’m drifting off into a happy place I’ve grown so accustomed to. A place where there is no pain, no heartache, and no lies. It’s all beautiful, and amazing, and free.
“Good girl,” he murmurs, kissing my temple. “My good, sweet little girl.”
Hmmmm, being his good, sweet little girl feels good.
M – I’m fine. Goin’ to be there in ten.
S – You’re coming to see me?
M – Don’t act like that shocks you. Mack said you wanted to shower.
S – You might not be allowed in. It’s getting late.
M – I’ll get in.
I sigh, and put the phone on the table beside the bed. He’ll get in, all right. I lie back against the pillows and close my eyes, waiting. I must drift off, because I feel a hand against my cheek what seems like only seconds later. I open my eyes, and Maddox is staring down at me.
“Just droppin’ your clothes off.”
“I . . . ah . . . thanks.”
He tilts his head to the side. God, he’s beautiful. So fucking beautiful. I hate that any man would look this good. His long, dark hair falls down over his shoulders, so thick and beautiful. He’s built like a statue. His muscles are big and hard. His chest, which I’ve had the pleasure of seeing many times, is defined, and runs perfectly down to his eight-pack.
Yeah, the man has the full eight-pack of love bumps. Then there’s that V . . . oh boy. He’s got a chest full of tattoos, even some running down his belly. The one I hate is across his back. I hate it because it’s my name, Santana in big, black, angry letters.
“Maddox,” I whisper.
He leans in closer. “Mmmm.”
“I’m safe . . . right?”
He nods. “Never let anything happen to you, Tana. You know that.”
“So, I can . . . go out once I get home?”
He tilts his head to the side, studying me. “Depends.”
“On?”
“You can go out, with the protection of the guys or me.”
I close my eyes. “Maddox-” I begin, but he cuts me off.
“Ain’t givin’ you a choice. I can’t keep you housebound, but I sure as shit ain’t lettin’ you out alone. You can argue, but it’ll do you no fuckin’ good.”
“Fine,” I mutter. “Fine.”
“You wanna tell me why you’re askin’ that question?”
“I, ah, I want to go out with a friend Saturday night. That’s all.”
“You’re a bad fuckin’ liar. Now tell me the damn truth.”
I sigh and turn to him, our eyes meeting. “I’m . . . I’m seeing someone, Maddox.”
I’ve never seen a man change from relaxed to stiff so quickly in my life. His entire body jerks, and his shoulders straighten. His face hardens, and I watch in shock as his mouth forms a hard line. Oh shit.
“It’s nothing serious,” I say quickly. I don’t know why I need to justify my actions, but his look . . . it’s hurting me. “I just wanted you to know, considering all that’s happened.”
He proceeds to hurt me more when he turns without another word and disappears out of the room. I call out for him, but he doesn’t come back in. I wait. I wait, and I wait. But I know he’s gone.
Well shit.
CHAPTER FOUR
2008 – Santana
I stroke my sister’s hair, singing softly to her as she falls into a deep slumber. I stare down at her, knowing all of this is for her. There is no other reason I fight the way I do. When her breathing evens out, I push to my feet and walk out of the room, closing the door softly behind me.
My feet feel heavy as I walk down the halls, knowing what I’m walking into, knowing how it’s going to feel. The pain won’t hold me back, though. Nothing will. Instead, the pain will be what drives me to let him hurt me. He knows I need him now. He knows he’s all I’ve got, and if I’m honest, he’s all I want.
There is no beautiful reason for the attachment I feel towards Kennedy. The reason I want him is because he gives me what I want, what I need. He knows how to take the pain away, to let me pretend for just a moment that I’m anywhere but here.
“Come here, Tanie,” he murmurs, stroking his knee.
Kennedy isn’t a cruel man; he doesn’t hit me or hurt me. When I came to him six months ago, desperate and cold from the streets, he took Pippa and I in. One night only four months ago, four short months, he gave me something to help me feel better.
From that day on, he gives me what I need, when I need it.
I walk over to him, wishing I had the willpower to turn away. I’ve tried it, but nothing can make me turn from what he’s offering. What he gives me makes me feel good inside, and I figure if I’ve got control over it, what can it hurt?
Oh, how stupid I am.
I slide onto his knee and his arm snakes around my waist. He smiles at me, showing me a dimple in his cheek as he ties a little yellow tube around my arm. I close my eyes, leaning into him, relishing in the feeling of the needle breaking my skin and the warm rush of liquid that fills my body as he injects me with pure heaven.
Everything leaves. Nothing hurts.
A smile plays lazily around my lips as I lean into him. He drops his ear to my lips, murmuring words I know I’ll forget tomorrow. “I have big plans for you, Tanie. Big plans. This will help.”
His words don’t sink into the parts of my brain that they should. Instead, I’m drifting off into a happy place I’ve grown so accustomed to. A place where there is no pain, no heartache, and no lies. It’s all beautiful, and amazing, and free.
“Good girl,” he murmurs, kissing my temple. “My good, sweet little girl.”
Hmmmm, being his good, sweet little girl feels good.
