My heart hammered so violently in my chest, that I was sure it was visible, like in some of these chaotic cartoons.
I had the knife, like every night—even over the weekend Thomas had vanished—still between the mattress and headboard. I could kill him, but only with the advantage of surprise. Waiting to see if he did more, I breathed deeply, still feigning sleep.
The touch stopped, but instead, a face came closer. I felt the breath fawning my skin, and this was the moment I regretted everything anew.
To have followed that fake butler, to have gotten into some kind of freaky mother-son substitute relationship with Jude, and especially, that I promised to stay for a year.
This feels like a horror movie, where the monster was in control, getting you when you would go as far as even to blink.
Funnily enough, I found a bit of relief in the fact that my eyes were closed. As long as he doesn't discover me, I doubt he would full-fledged rape a sleeping woman, that would surely wake up.
And, I have the feeling that Thomas was specialized in psychological games, not sexual—or, this 'no sexual actions required' would have never been mentioned by him.
But was I freaking out? Yes, damn, yes. I feel like freaking out so much. With each breath that hit me, I wanted to scream and punch him. All the while, I talked to myself in my head, trying to calm me down.
It is a special kind of torture to feign sleep while someone stares at you, especially this close, but at least I didn't need to see the danger head-on.
And, another help arrived; I heard my cat purring. Is this a situation to purr? No, but it helped me to relax, and I was letting myself fall into a trance. Still, my hand was ready to pull and stab, and my mouth was ready to scream and bite.
A torturous long time was going by until the breath disappeared, followed by the light being turned off, and, while I rejoiced, Thomas broke again his routine, pulling me in his arms while conscious, or at least while not feigning unconsciousness—but that should be impossible because if he faked it, he would know about Jude visiting, and he didn't come across as someone who would let that happen without a comment.
I was turned to his chest, and he cradled my head with another hand, combing through my hair, and playing with the strands.
You freaking psycho, did he think I wouldn't know what he was doing? Now, he surely marveled about the original, which was possibly Liliana. For someone so obsessed with blonde hair, he must have thought of Jude's mother's bleached hair as a joke.
His heartbeat never quickened, which was also giving me security. One never knows when a perverted psychopath strikes, but at least I told myself if he had any funny plans, his heartbeat should change, then I am warned. Albeit the close body contact, this position was still better than breathing in my face.
How could I ever promise Jude something that would endanger my safety? Was I completely blinded by that face? Then why have I never been blinded by Thomas' face? At least it could have happened before I knew that he was abusive.
Every time I felt the tug on my head, and knew he still had a part of me in his hand, I had to give my all to not flinch.
Can I really go through this for a year?
Time passed, and finally, there were no tugs; instead, Thomas started to fall asleep, nevertheless not lessening his hold.
I was unsure if Jude would honor us this night with his presence; at any rate, I hadn't noticed him coming since I asked him to stop. Still, this position made me nervous—very nervous because the snap of the lighter lid opening the last time I was held like this, was still ringing in my ear.
Okay, now I was sure. I had lost it completely. How could I promise something to someone who had nearly set me on fire along with his father? Oh damn, I have to get out of this house.
Being held in this position, with my body turned to Thomas, had clearly traumatized me. The whole time, I asked myself if something was burning, even going so far as to perceive a burning smell, so I couldn't take it anymore and turned around. Not softly and cautiously, but just like somebody deeply asleep, changing one's position.
And it proved to be the right decision in more than one way. On one side, Thomas didn't wake up luckily, and then because I was sooner out of that man's arms than with me acting slowly, and the most important part was that Jude indeed came soon after.
He seemed to have forgotten what we talked about, and it looked like the yearbook wasn't enough to satisfy his obsession, he had to look at me at night yet again. The moment he entered, the black eyes were on me, this time without Thomas imprisoning my body.
Jude came closer and kneeled by my bedside, putting his head on his arm, which he placed on the mattress. The panther seemed a bit sad, and because I had crossed that line already, it was easier to do it again. Amidst the purring of my cat, which had never stopped, I let my hand stroke the much bigger cat's fur.
Jude again showed his satisfaction by clothing his eyes, and inching a bit closer to me. I felt that if he could roll up in my hand beside me, he would do so readily.
What I'm doing here is wrong, and this fact was resonating in my head, but my hand never stopped combing through his hair; repeating the motion that his father had no long ago carried out on myself.
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Thomas POV
Since you are here with me, I feel more relaxed, additionally it had been a few years since the woman living here had started to behave.
I am unsure if it were the beatings, if she had just given up, or if she had the strange conviction that the one she was trying to imitate would behave that way.
The first time I hit that woman, it wasn't easy, but once the line was crossed, I had lost my scruples.
The first time I hit the child, it wasn't easy, but once the line was crossed, I had lost my scruples. It was the same as it had been with his mother.
However, since I found you, I wouldn't hate the woman as much anymore, and I could live comfortably as long as she would just leave me alone.
As long as the child behaved, I would never hit him. But still, if he wouldn't go to school, if he misbehaved, I had to do it. The genes of that woman are in him, and I don't want him to follow in her footsteps.
I hope he can break through this cycle. I hope the little blue-eyed child can break through this cycle.
Please let everything just stop repeating itself.