Page 53 of Something So Strong

I’ve never understood that. How you can be so cold you’re shivering but drenched in sweat… Come to think of it, I can’t ever remember flashing back and waking up beneath my quilt. Or without knocking over my nightstand, for that matter.

Filled with hope, I toss back the covers and curse the morning as the air hits my still damp skin. But the cloud of unease bearing down on me overpowers any discomfort when I realize nothing in my room is out of place.

Maybe this time it was just a dream.

But why does my body hurt so much?

Looking down, I see a bruise forming horizontally across the front of both thighs between my tattoos. It’s not that dark, but it’s enough to know I’m not crazy.

Bewildered, I dash to the bathroom. From the side, I can’t spot anything, but as I twist to get a view of my back, pain shoots from my hip to my shoulder blade. Clamping my jaw shut, I push through it in search of another bruise until I spot—between the stripes of the tiger that covers half my back—lines of blue, yellow, and purple.

“What the fuck?!” I yell at my reflection, because none of this makes any goddamn sense.

How did I wake up tucked in but covered in bruises?

I’ve never put myself back to bed before. I’m either on the floor, against the wall, or mid-way through punching something so hard I shock myself awake.

I don’t think I can do this today.

I don’t think my mind will let me.

Not after my dream, or the kiss with Jesse.

Fuck…

The kiss…

Seldom has something so right felt so fucking wrong. Or, something so personally taboo been so absolutely perfect?

Jesse sparked something inside me that made me believe I could live a normal life, but my aching body is proof enough that I was selfish to think I could be happy.

I’ve wanted Jesse—a man—since the second I saw him.

He makes me hard.

He makes me feel alive.

He makes me want to do better. Be better.

But… for all of those things to be true, it means Dad was right, and I don’t think I can stomach that. I don’t know if I can see him sitting on the front porch in that shitty old recliner with a smug look on his face, laughing at me every time I kiss Jesse.

It’s too much. The physical and mental scars of my past are already enough for me to deal with.

No matter how much I want Jesse, I just can’t bear that yoke around my neck.

I can’t see him every day. Be tempted by him.

I need to distance myself and find a new pussy to fall into.

Fetching my phone, I bring up Alma’s number, but pause.

Swapping shifts is the right thing to do. Letting him move on quickly and start his year off all over again would be the best thing… For him.

I should let him go…

I should let him be happy…

But then, what about me? What am I left with? Nothing but a giant, gaping hole that used to be filled with sunshine, and freckles, and bright green eyes, and…

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