Page 65 of Babalon

God, getting her to do anything besides bullying me is like pulling teeth.

She grits her molars; I can see her jaw flex out of the corner of my eye as well as watch her arms lift and cross over her chest–very defensive like—but she eventually relents.

“My mom abandoned me when I was little, left my dad to raise me. He raised me to be a hard ass from the get-go which ended with me getting in a lot of trouble when I was a teenager. Mostly fights—standing up for those who were bullied.”

“You? Really? Queen Darkwater inmate Punisher over here?”

“You want me to talk to you or not? If you’re going to be a sarcastic prick, I can cuff you here and leave.”

That makes me smile. I—dare I say it—love when she gets snappy. Makes defiling her mouth later worth it.

“My apologies, please continue.” I yield.

“Like I said, he was hard on me. In school, I started getting sexually assaulted by my school principal. He never fucked me, but he would be rough when forcing me to suck his dick.”

I nearly choke on the guilt that runs through me at that admission. I can’t stop myself from turning to look at her rather than just viewing her in my peripherals.

“Nadia… why…”

“Don’t, don’t do that Kace. I… I didn’t feel like I had a choice in the matter when I was younger. It was take it or be kicked out of school. He would have told my dad everything I had done, and dealing with my dad was worse, in my opinion.”

“What the fuck do you mean he was worse?”

“Well, he didn’t violate me at all, if that’s what you’re thinking, but the emotional and mental abuse existed. I always fought to do things to make him proud. Make him happy for having me but that wasn’t the case. He blamed me for my mom running off, and when you’re abandoned and the other parent blames you, it’s hard to get past that. It fueled a lot of hatred.”

Nadia goes quiet after that, like she was trying to keep herself from becoming too emotional, and as proud of her as I am for being so strong, I want to console her too. She will probably bite me if I do anything of the sort right now.

“The principal ended up ripping my tonsils and I bit his dick off. His wife divorced him after finding out he was assaulting a student, but I never pressed charges or anything. People don’t listen in the town I come from. I had a good year or two after that, spending most of my time with my friends until graduation and the night he hit me.”

She continued.

“He slapped me around, nothing major. Then forced me to get a job after one of my friends was killed in a car accident. I worked to get away from him, but he would take the money I made, and that was before he started blaming me for being a whore. His coworkers would come into my job and flirt with me then tell him. When he finally accused me of fucking one ofthem, I did to spite him. He already took my cash like he was a pimp, might as well get railed like I was owned by one.”

The way she shrugs like what happened to her meant absolutely nothing grates my nerves.

I have nothing to say. I mean, what do you say in instances like this? ‘I’m sorry’ doesn’t seem to cut it. Though I can never understand her pain or the shit she went through, I hurt for her. I know she told me not to go where my brain automatically wanted, but it was hard not to.

I did to her what her attacker has and that makes me want to puke. I may not have hurt her the way he did, but I did take advantage of her mouth. Fuck, I handcuffed her where she couldn’t fight back.

Sitting there, I thought over the entire moment we shared. From restraining her, to pushing her all the way down my length until she gagged on me. While I know I gave her the means to communicate and tell me to stop, I couldn’t help feeling guilty.

“I may not be a mind reader, Kace, but I know what you’re thinking. I enjoyed what I had, have, with you. Even if the first time we were together you royally pissed me off and you were punished for it, I… like being with you. You’re the first man I’ve been with who makes me feel liberated versus used just to get back at someone else.”

“Then will you let me apologize, please? Had I known, I wouldn’t have done that without speaking with you first. I’m not them and I don’t want you to think that I’m using you in that same way. I—“

I come to a stop before saying more, unsure how to truly add to the conversation without sounding like a prick, but if I know her, and how strong she is, I don’t think she will take it badly.

“I do want to use you but in a manner that you consent to. I want to fill you and feel you. I want to taste you. To hear thesounds you make and see you unravel because of me—but I don’t ever want to violate you.”

Fact of the matter is this, she has started to consume my thoughts in ways I never thought she ever would. I find myself thinking more of her than the reason I was in prison in the first place. Or how my days are numbered, and I will die within these walls as an old man. Then there’s the inappropriate aspect of whatever we have going on. It’s thrilling and gives me one hell of a rush knowing I have the power to destroy what she has built for herself. I doubt I will ever have the stomach to do something like that, but it does make the sex astronomical.

Leaning, I reach my arms back to prop myself up, the hard bench now digging into the palms of my hands. I look around before closing my eyes and let what little bit of summer sun we have left blanket my features. Marinating in the warmth and vitamin D while sitting next to the only person I’ve felt drawn to in all of my years.

The longer we sit there, the more I want to know. So, being the nosy fucker I am, I started rapid firing off questions.

“How old are you, Nadia? Do you have siblings? Do you do anything outside of here that brings you joy, like Nurse Cindy? I could listen to you talk all day, by the way.”

If I didn’t know any better, I’d say she smiled which only draws more of my attention to her. When I look, our eyes meet because she was already staring at me.

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