Page 75 of Auctioned

I have to make it stop. Have to remind myself that she’s nothing to me.

Her tears are nothing.

Herthank yousare nothing.

The way she fights then bends for me.

Nothing.

There will be no feeding and orgasms this morning. No soft touches to even out the cruelty.

For my sake, I have to remind myself of who I am.

My phone lights up on the counter. Topher. After days of radio silence.

After over twenty-four hours that she hasn’t mentioned his name.

I slam my fist on the counter. No more of this. Of caring about her. Of this obsession.

I have to dehumanize her. Have to minimize the control she has over me. Eliminate it.

Before that, my son.

Topher:You up?

Me:Yes.

Short and to the point. I haven’t told him I have Ophelia here. I may never say it to him. Soon enough, she’ll be gone.

No.

Topher:Busy? Kinda need to talk to you.

He never asks if he can call. Something’s wrong. I might not be the best father figure, but he knows he can call at any time.

After all, he is my son. My only son.

Until—

“Silence,” I bark at the empty house. My voice bounces off the walls.

I can’t talk to him when I’m drowning in her. I have to silence the noise in my head. Put Ophelia in her place.

Once things are back in order, I’ll talk to him. Clearly, he’s unharmed. Alive.

Whatever he wants isn’t urgent.

Me:I’ll call you later.

Topher:K.

A derisive laugh huffs out of me at that. My father wouldn’t stand forK. He wouldn’t stand for drunk texts and debasing the initiation, either.

The prick.

“Get up.” He towered over me, hands on his waist.

I looked up at him from the floor. Ignoring the throbbing pain in my ribs, I snarled at him.

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