Page 35 of In You
Blood trickles from my nose to my lip, and I sniff as I stiffly pull myself up back by my chair, my throat burning because I haven't had anything to drink in so long that I taste blood when I swallow. And now there's more blood from my nose until all I can taste and smell is copper.
That pinprick of light flickers as my vision wavers.
Both Calvin and the table spin as my head begins to throb even worse than before, and the reality that I'm in some intensely unfathomably deep shit sobers me and removes all fight I'd had.
"You can have what Iletyou have," Calvin snarls, the evil in his eyes swallowing up the gray iris as his pupils blow so wide I wonder again if he's on drugs.
Humiliation swamps me in waves, and my eyes go to his, pleading for him to see me.
Horrified at what he demands for me to do, the shivering starts from deep inside, and I reach for the glass of water, only to have that knocked away, too. It hits the table to spill all over, and my eyes nail themselves to the liquid as it travels to the edge of the table and drips off the other side. A singular tear makes its way down my cheek.
"Say. It."
I don't want to do it.
Nothing in me wants to.
I vowed never to use that word, so betrayed I am by my father's abandonment that I refuse to refer to anyone in that way. Because if my own father can hurt me the way he'd done, then so can every other man who comes into my life. And now look, Calvin's proving me right. It only took two months after I moved in with him for him to convince me to merge our bank accounts after selling my mother's house, and then another month for the monster to come out.
I went to the bank just a few days ago to withdraw some money just to be informed that the pin number had been changed, and I'd been removed off the account. All that money from my mom's house, his now. When I got back home, he took my purse and my keys, and then my access to food and water after I dared fight with him about it.
My head pounds with a headache due to dehydration. My fingers tremble, and my dry lips crack as I work to slick my drytongue over them, praying for moisture. But of course there's none.
I sit at the table, staring defiantly at the wood grains, trying not to look at the water that I'm so thirsty for I feel half out of my mind with it.
For days I've ruminated about the morning I'd went into the flower shop, and wished like hell I would have kept going.
Maybe if I hadn't stopped for flowers, I would have gotten to my mom in enough time to save her, I would never have run into this monster, and I most definitely wouldn't be sitting at a table begging for water like I'm an animal.
"I'm not a dog," I whisper softly, feeling my face break. "Calvin, I'm not a dog."
"Well, that can be remedied." He shifts in his seat, threading his fingers together to place them on top of his elevated knee in a quietly refined move that I've come to know means he's gathering himself. Patient, until he's not. My cheek stings, the burn becoming hotter and more uncomfortable the longer the seconds tick by, but I don't dare bring my hand up to touch it.
"You're going to be picking yourself up off the floor all night until you say it," he says in a warning tone.
How I ever thought his voice was warm and kind is beyond me. I must be crazy.
I turn my head to look him in full on in the face, defeated, feeling my heart finish breaking clean down the middle. All my girlish daydreaming about Calvin being my knight in shining armor dissipates, disintegrating into a nightmare I can't wake up from. We stare into each other's eyes, and instinctively, I know I'm trapped.
My chin quivers.
"Daddy," I whisper, feeling tears clog my throat and well up in my eyes as I lose. It's not the first time I've lost against him,but this one definitely hurts more than the other losses I've sustained.
Because he knows how bad this hurts me. He knows.
I told him. I've cried in his arms about this very thing in our bed. About how all my childhood I felt abandoned, tortured, unwanted by the man who was supposed to love me more than anyone in the world. The man who was supposed to be my savior…
But not me. My savior left me.
Unwanted.
Unloved…
Calvin saw how deep that wound was, and he promised me he'd take care of me, protect me… love me. Hesaidit.
He whispered it against my lips when we were sharing the same pillow the night of my mother's funeral after we made love for the first time. It's when he also told mehisfather was an abusive alcoholic, and spent much of his life beating him, and his mother. Until one day, he died of cirrhosis of the liver after a failed attempt at getting sober.
"Good girl," he says softly. Rising up out of his seat, he steps into me. My fear ramps up a notch, causing my heart to race, and my palms to sweat. I tuck my arms in, and my lips tighten as I feel myself leaning away from him as he comes to my left side, putting a hand to my head and pulling me to rest my head against his chest. "I'm so proud of you. I knew you could do it. Your daddies are going to be so proud."
