Page 94 of Filthy Little Secret

I don’t have time to fucking dwell on what a sad son of a bitch I am, though.

I have to fix this…as much as I can, at least, starting with getting this goddamn video pulled.

I head back inside. Nanna asks me what’s wrong, but I just tell her that I have an emergency to take care of.

I head into my room and pull up my laptop. I feel sick to my stomach, not just over what happened, but knowing that whoever is responsible took advantage of both of us. Victimized us like this. I flag the video on the site and contact their customer support via the email on their site. I’m sure Mark’s trying the same things. And soon, his parents will know, and they’ll likely be able to get it pulled in a matter of moments.

Although, the last thing he wants to do is be the one to tell them about this shit.

Fuck. I finally had something that was wonderful. That fucking made my life so amazing, and then everything had to go to shit.

Of course that’s how it fucking works.

34

MARK

There’s a knock at my bedroom door before it opens, Mom inviting herself in. Not that I would have wanted to get up to get it.

I’ve been lying in bed for the past two hours, waiting for her to get back from a lunch with some of her bigwig friends. I just messaged her to let her know we have to discuss something important. If I’d said what it was about, she would have come running, but this isn’t something I can drop on her through a text or over the phone.

I’m ashamed. Embarrassed.

Dad’s still working with clients at the office, but as much as he might be bothered by the news, it’s not going to destroy his image the way it will Mom’s.

“Mark, is everything all right?” she asks, and even though I can hear the love in her voice, I can also sense her uneasiness. Like she doesn’t want to deal with the hassle of any trouble I’ve gotten myself into.

I just need be honest so she can get her lawyers and PR people working on figuring this out.

I sit up, and she sits beside me on the mattress.

“Come on, baby,” she says.

She must see how upset I am—how this is eating at me on the inside.

She hugs me the way I remember her hugging me after Becky died.

“You’re going to be so fucking mad,” I say, my voice squeaking as tears race down my face.

My thoughts race back to the day she told me that I needed to stay in the closet. This is the very reason she didn’t want me being out—because she feared something like this would happen. In some ways, I know I secretly wanted vengeance against her, but now that it’s happened, I realize it was just a fantasy—and the realization of it is a nightmare.

“Tell me what’s going on,” she says. “Is it about that guy you’re seeing?”

I nod.

“What happened?”

“He hurt me, Mom. Really fucking bad.”

I manage to find the words to tell her about what we did with the camera on his phone and about where we did it since she’s likely to find out anyway. I tell her how I trusted Tim. How much I cared about him, and how much he hurt me.

She strokes her hand down my back as I talk, and it’s the most comforting she’s been in a long time.

I miss this.

I miss having a mom who I felt cared about me. Who I felt was there for me.

“I’m so sorry, Mom. I trusted him.” I’m trembling in her arms, my face wet from how much I cried through telling her. “And I can’t believe he could let that happen.”

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