Page 42 of Dissension

A bitter laugh escapes Kara’s lips. She must sound like she’s drowning. “Worse.So much worse. My whole life, we walked on eggshells around him. Never wanting to set him off. And Charlie is such a cunning lizard of a man, able to be what he knows people will like, for as long as he needs to in order to draw them in. He drew my mother into his web so tight that the only way she could truly leave him was in a coffin.”

Blood and razorblades, spilled across the floor for Kara to find.

“She’s not you,” Nick tells her neutrally, as if trying to not send her into a screaming fit. “Tell me about what he did to you.”

What did he do to you, Kara? What did your father do, the man who was supposed to protect you and keep you safe, the man who-

Weeknights spent listening to him degrade them both over dinner, about the way the chicken was cooked. How he would teach her how to dance with her feet on his, Charlie’s eyes eating up her adoration of the simple act of kindness. The sting of his belt and her face against the porch. The smell of alcohol heavy on his breath when he kissed her goodnight on her forehead sweetly, just before he went to his bedroom where her mother cried as his palm met her face-

Nick once said to her,the darkest parts of you are what I want. Kara still holds on to that, this small little hope that some man doesn’t care how messed up she is.

“He abused us.” Her voice is a whisper. “And not just verbally, but physically too. I learned how to hide my bruises young. The worst damage he inflicted wasn’t physical. Those are wounds no one can see.” She blows her nose into a tissue briefly, trying to get ahold of herself. Her chest feels lighter, admitting this to someone other than a professional. “He would worm his way deep under the skin, make youwanthis love. You would want it, so entirely that it would become your entire purpose. And then, he would crush you.Repeatedly.”

There’s a deep sigh from the other end of the line. Nick’s voice is soft when he starts to say, “Kara-”

It sounds like he might justactually

start in on some form of pity for her. That’s something she can’t abide. Not from Nick.

“Tell me something about you,” she blurts, hating herself for wanting some sort of connection. Some sort of way to prove to herself that she’s not the only one that’s messed up. She knows there has to be something in his past to make him the way he is. “Something horrible.”

She knows he has secrets and the last person she wants to find them out from is Dieter, because who knows how he’ll twist whatever knowledge he has. She wants Nick to tell her.

“This isn’t a sharing circle,” Nick tells her, no real push-back in his voice. “Believe it or not, but I don’t get off on trauma-dumping to others in the middle of the night. Not mymodus operandi.”

A prickle of hurt tightens her throat. This man and his true self, locked away so no one can ever see. He never changes. “Oh, I’m sorry, I forgot you don’tdofeelings. I won’t bother you-”

“You misunderstand me,” Nick replies. She can hear his sheets shifting and she can imagine being in that bedroom that smells of him and his mouthwatering cologne. The pang of missing him suffocates her. The feel of his hands, the power in his shoulders. The taste of his mouth. “You can tell me whatever you want. I’ll listen to whatever horrors you have locked up in your pretty little head. I can face any of it. I just won’t be reciprocating.”

Kara scowls at the wall. Isn’t that just the story of her life with the men that suck her right in? No emotional reciprocation…

You find men that remind you of Charlie, silly girl. His condition makes it hard to love, even though he desires love.

Despite all that she knows about Nick, Kara wants to find some sort of common ground. Something to tie them together that isn’t just their shared sick passion for nonconsensual fantasies. “Why not? What if it helps you feel better about-”

“What do you want me to feel better about, Kara?” His even tone of voice is beginning to weird her out. It gives her the sense thathe’s dissociatingfrom something. She’d never thought that about him before and it surprises her.

“You once told me you understood what it meant to grow up in a tough situation-”

“And if you also recall, you were quick to tell me that it could be nothing like your own tragic villain backstory.” He makes a noise that comes off as self-depreciating. She imagines he’s smirking unhappily, all stern lines and a stone-cut face. “You were right.It isn’t.” His voice dips on the last words ominously.

“Please, Nick.” Kara is glad to be focused on him now and not her unpleasant past. “Just give me something to work with. Whathappenedto you? I want to be here for you. I won’t judge-”

“I’m not a victim for you to piece together. There’s nothing to talk about.” That flat tone returns, eerie. “There’s nothing thatneeds to be fixed, only forgotten. There’s nothing about me thatcanbe fixed.”

“You know, that’s exactly what men say when someone has harmed them,” Kara says bitterly. “They find ways to pretend it wasn’t real, that they aren’t a victim, that they aren’t impacted. All methods of coping that aren’t healthy.”

“I get by just fine,” he tells her softly. “Do you?”

The nerve of this man. She wants to tell him that picking up working girls and paying them to say ‘no’ isn’t getting byjust fine. That being a member of a private fetish sex club to fuel that same need isn’tokay. “What do you think, Nick? Clearly, I’m a raging mess of a human being. Having nightmares about things I wish I never experienced. You-”

She knows the moment he wants to deflect from the conversation. She’s getting too close to a raw nerve.

“Are you in bed?” His voice drops an octave, a hint of huskiness entering his tone. It causes a flicker of heat to shift into being low in her gut.

Confused by where this might be going, Kara drawls, “Where else would I be after a nightmare?Underthe bed?”

“You a nightgown sort of girl?”

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