After buying an assortment of food from the vendors on the boardwalk, we headed to the beach. I just kept wordlessly following him, watching as he spread out the blanket he had brought out of his trunk and letting him pull me down to sit. He took off my boots for me and then put his jacket over my lap, then began to set the food out.
He remained silent, calmly going about the task. When he was done and there was nothing left to do but for us to eat, he seemed at a loss of how to carry on. I continued to watch him, waiting for him to decide what to do with me.
When he finally looked at me, I knew he had made the wrong decision because even though he wasn't saying anything, I could so clearly see it. The fucking pity, as if he was looking at a victim. To be treated preciously and protected. It was insulting, that look in his eyes.
I suppressed the innate fury that came to me at being regarded this way. It was not his fault, that he possessed kindness and sympathy, but I couldn't stand it either way. It was simply against everything that I was, to accept this.
Just as Jude was my only true equal, no one but my father had the right to regard me as an inferior. I could not allow such an offensive and dangerous perception of me to exist, both for my pride and survival.
"Stop," I said, turning my head to face the shore. "I didn't tell you those things to get sympathy kisses and tears. I don't need anyone's pity. I don't need anyone to tell me how brave I am or how strong I am. I don't need any of that bullshit." I brought my gaze back to him. "I'm many things, but I am never a victim. Don't insult me by treating me like one."
He looked pissed off for some reason. I didn't care.
"Let's play a game," he suddenly said, shifting to fully face me. "Twenty questions, with a twist. I'll ask first."
"Rick-"
"What's your favorite color?"
I eyed him for a moment before answering, "Red."
His brow arched as his gaze raked over me. "Not black?"
I decided to humor him and his stupid game as I shrugged.
"Black makes me comfortable. I like red. It reminds me of Christmas."
He nodded at that, looking thoughtful for a moment. "Favorite book?"
I sighed. "Ludwig Bemelman's Madeline."
His lips twitched as if he was holding back a smile. "Favorite food?"
"Anything with a lobster."
"Dessert?"
"Carrot cake."
He seemed shocked. "Never heard that before."
"It's both a vegetable and a dessert. It's mind boggling that it can be delicious," I said defensively.
He let himself smile, just barely. "Favorite movie?"
"Forrest Gump."
"Favorite song?"
I scoffed. "That's a stupid question to ask a musician."
He shrugged. "If you could only listen to one piece of music for the rest of your life, what would it be?"
I contemplated for a moment, tapping my fingers against my knee. I quickly became overwhelmed.
"This is fucking with my head," I muttered to myself. "I can't give you an answer. Ask me another one."
He rubbed his jaw, thinking. "What's your greatest dream?"
"To not be like this anymore."
He pursed his lips. "Your greatest fear?"
"That I'll always be like this."
He tore his gaze away from mine, looking off to the side. "In an alternate reality, how would you live your life?"
I thought about it, imagining myself living a different life as someone who was anyone but me. I had never allowed myself to consider it before, yet scenarios of such a life easily came to mind.
"I'd be traveling the world, never staying longer than a few months in one city and busking the streets every day," I began, a sense of bitterness filling me. "Doesn't matter how little I earn, just having the privilege and freedom to explore my music is enough to make that life worth living."
"Why not do that now?"
I managed to smile. "How can someone who can't even play a single note properly live off of music?"
"When was the last time you tried to play or make music?"
"About four years ago. I wanted to write something for Ma as a Christmas gift," I mumbled, clasping my hands together as my fingers twitched at the thought of my lost music. "But I couldn't do it. I didn't know how anymore."
"Would you consider trying again?"
"I consider trying every day."
"So why aren't you doing anything about it?"
"Because living off my music isn't worth the grief I'd have to endure." I leveled my head, looking at him. "Enough. Ask me about something else."
He leaned back, propping himself up on his palms. "Apart from Andrea, have you been with anyone else since?"
I shifted in discomfort, clearing my throat. "Chan."
His face grew grim. "Who the fuck is Chan?"
I sighed. "Chandler Wright."
He narrowed his eyes, glaring. "The fucking football player? Jude's friend?"
I nodded. "After the proposal. With Andy. They were just trying to… comfort me. I had an episode during it. I haven't been with them or anyone else since."
He remained quiet, glaring furiously at me and then eventually spitting out; "I slept with a coworker."
I stared at him for a moment. "No, you didn't."
He sighed, looking away. "I didn't."
I dragged my fingers through my hair, trying to think of how to fix this. I could reason that while I was with them, he and I were over as far as I was concerned. But that wouldn't make either of us feel any better about the fact that I had betrayed him. To begin with, it was a privilege that he was continuing to let me occupy a place in his life.
"My father is the Head of our family," I began tentatively. Desperately. "When he gives an order, no one is allowed to question it. That is the law. Disobedience is punishable by literal execution, if he sees it fit. So when he ordered for me to be rid of you, there was no other choice but to do just that. At least, I tried. For weeks, I tried. Chan and Andy was me trying to be rid of you, but then you left me that fucking message and I couldn't keep pretending that I was ever capable of letting you go." I rubbed my palms over my face, letting out a harsh breath. "I'm sorry. I can't undo what I've done, so tell me what I can do to make it better. Please."
"No one else," he answered, leaning forward to cup my chin. "Until I let you go, no one else gets to have you. Not even a glance from you."
I took his hands, kissing his fingers before lowering my face onto his palms in contrition.
"I'm yours. Always," I promised. "Even after you decide to rid yourself of me, I will not let anyone else have me as you have me. Please, forgive me for allowing it. It will never happen again."
I heard him take in a deep breath, letting it out slowly. He raised my face, but I kept my gaze lowered. Quietly, he stroked my cheeks with his thumbs, his touch so gentle I wanted to fucking cry.
"I'll forgive you, but promise me, you won't abandon me like that again. I can watch you marry another man as long as you come home to me. Don't make me live with it alone. That's just too fucking cruel, baby."
I closed my eyes, pressing my trembling lips to his palm. "I can't make a promise I don't know if I'll be able to keep, but I will try my best." I opened eyes. "It's all I can offer. Please accept it. Please?"
I could plainly see the gutwrenching sight of his heart breaking and I wished I could ease it, but it would be unfair to give him false reprieve. We both knew, no matter how many promises and confessions we made to each other, our end was inevitable. Whether by design or acceptance of the fact that we never should have started in the first place.
"Alright. I'll accept it." He pulled me to him and kissed me softly. "Next question," he murmured, placing another kiss on my lips. "How many times have you been raped for your father's benefit?"
I gripped his wrists, my breath seizing. "I don't remember."
"That's a lie. Tell me."
I shook my head. "There's no good in knowing."
"Your pain deserves to be known, and you don't deserve to bear with it alone. Give me your pain and I'll bear it with you."
"You don't have to do that for me," I whispered. "Why would you?"
"Because it's all I can do. Tell me. Please."
I sucked in a breath, biting my lip hard. "Forty-three."
He screwed his eyes shut and kissed me again. He trailed lingering kisses all over my face, as if to assure me that he could still stand to place his lips upon this filthy body of mine.
"When was the last time it happened?" he asked further, his voice shaking.
I gritted my teeth. "A week… after my graduation."
He uttered a curse, burying his face in my hair. When I realized he was crying again, I held him to me, begging for him to stop, but he only kept going, making himself suffer in my behalf. I couldn't understand why. I just wanted him to stop hurting.
"Sweetheart, let's eat," I murmured softly, brushing my fingers through his hair. "I've made you wait long enough for this dinner."
He kept his face pressed against my neck while I set our plates in front of us, but when I offered him a bite, he turned his head away.
"Do you feel sick?" I asked, drawing back. "Should I leave?"
He grabbed my wrist so suddenly I dropped the fork onto the plate. I picked it up with my free hand, refusing to meet his gaze. I couldn't bear to see what he thought of me.
He brought the food to his mouth, forcibly chewing and swallowing it down.
"Your father makes me sick, not you. Never you. None of it is on you," he stated firmly.
I cracked a smile. "Sure, sweetheart."
He let out a harsh breath, pulling me closer, his hold on me remaining gentle despite the tangible tension that had stiffened his body.
"Does Jude know?"
"Yes."
His arms tightened around me and I could feel his grief becoming overcome by rage.
"You're the most precious thing in the world to him," he hissed lowly. "Why hasn't he done anything?"
"Because I won't let him."
"Why not?" he bit out through gritted teeth. "For god sakes, Angel, this isn't how someone should live."
I sighed, bringing my attention on the food. He had bought so much. It would be a waste to let it all spoil.
"If it's any consolation, I don't feel anything while it's happening," I said as I took a bite from a birria taco. "I shoot up on morphine and get myself drunk before I do it so I'm numb. If I'm lucky, I end up blacking out."
"How can you be so cavalier about this?"
"Because unlike you, it's nothing new to me," I said in a monotone, squeezing lemon onto the taco. "It's been a part of my life for nearly a decade. I've learned to cope."
"How does one even begin to cope with such a thing?"
"With copious amounts of drugs and alcohol," I answered before taking another full bite.
He squeezed my hips, breathing harshly. "Why… why do you let your father do all these horrible things to you?"
I sighed, opening a water bottle and taking a swig. "I try to say no," I replied, feeling my food churn and rise up my throat. "I try to fight. I try to hold onto my dignity, but he knows me too well. He knows how to break me and no matter what I do, he always wins."
"Not anymore." He held me tighter, pressing me flush against him. "I will never let him near you again."
I managed to smile. "You don't get it." I tilted my head, looking at him. "I can't live without him," I said, laughing humorlessly. "Jude thinks I'm blind and that I've let Father brainwash me, but no. I know what he is, I just don't care. He's my father and I'll do anything for him. It's sick, really, because I always want to please him. I'd cut myself open if he wished to see me bleed." I laughed, tears stinging my eyes. "I'm so fucked up that I can't live without the thing that destroys me."
He tried to kiss me again but I drew back, shaking my head.
"I told you, don't pity me. I won't fucking take it."
"Then what am I allowed to offer you?" he asked, bringing his hands to either side of my head. "Tell me, because I feel so fucking useless."
I grasped the front of his shirt, lowering my forehead to his. I held his gaze, seeing so much in his eyes. Desperation. Frustration. Anger. Hurt. I hated it all. Those were not the eyes I yearned.
"Be as you always have been," I whispered, shifting to kneel astride him. "Want me. Make me forget what's become of me. Look at me as if I'm the most beautiful fucking thing you've ever laid eyes on."
"I do, I will, and you are," he said fiercely as he stared up at me.
He slid his hand down my back, settling on my hips and gripping tightly as he brought me down to him. At every passing second we held each other's gaze, with our bodies pressed so close together I could feel the beating of his heart against my chest, I felt myself being pulled into that isolated space where nothing existed but him and I.
I watched the shift in his eyes, turning a shade of icy blue. Those eyes. Those burning eyes, on me, taking me in, consuming me. Desiring me. Those were the eyes that I sought to lose myself in.