Page 113 of Damnation
“Because it’s the truth. I’m a problem. I always have been, and I’m not going to stop being one just because you’re in my life. You have to understand that—I mean really understand it.”
I kneel down on the floor, resting my hands on his thighs. “Is that what has been torturing you? Awareness of what you are and fear of how it could affect the people around you?”
“I’m not afraid of what I am. I’m afraid that you aren’t. It scares me that you’re so delusional that you actually believe that you can change me, that this thing between you and me could possibly end well! It scares me that whatever it is that makes you want to be with me also makes you accept all my bullshit, all my disrespect, all my freak-outs. But what scares me most of all is that every single time, you’re ready to rationalize my behavior. To defend me and forgive all my screwups. To choose me even over your own family. That scares the shit out of me.Because I am a time bomb, and you just keep holding on to me like a lunatic, waiting to blow yourself up. Do you want to end up like my fucking mother? Because if that’s your plan, I’m telling you, you’re on the right track!”
The cruelty of his words twists my stomach. But I force myself to take it. “Don’t be absurd, Thomas. You would never do to me what your father did to her; how can you even think that?”
“Do you think that when she met him, she had any idea the kind of man he would turn into? No. No woman ever does. Do you know how she ended up trapped in a marriage with a man who beat her? By rationalizing. Forgiving him. And then before she knew it, she opened her eyes one day and it was too late. A person’s nature doesn’t change, and I refuse to change for you.”
I shake my head, rubbing my temples. “Thomas…you can’t…you can’t seriously believe that. Don’t you see that the mere fact of you recognizing the risk of the situation repeating itself makes you different from your father? You are going through a hard time right now, and yes, on more than a few occasions, you have been at your worst. You do things that I don’t agree with, and that does hurt me, but it doesn’t make you a monster.”
He snorts, lowering his gaze. And as he turns the joint over in his hands, he whispers, “You’re still doing it. Still rationalizing what I do.”
“You’re wrong. I’m not rationalizing. But I won’t let your brain trick you into believing something that isn’t true. Your father’s death has clearly thrown you off-balance, but—”
“My father’s death is not the problem! The problem is us! I was selfish with you. Petty. A total bastard. I took out my frustrations on you, forced you watch the ‘Thomas is a failure’ show every fucking day for the last two weeks. I kept you with me even when I knew it wasn’t the right thing to do. And despite all my shit, the drinking, the drugs…you stick with me. Why? Why are you doing this?”
“Because you’re my boyfriend, Thomas. I can’t just turn my back on you when you’re having trouble. That’s not in my nature.”
“Is it in your nature to just accept it all?”
“No. You know it isn’t.”
“Then why the fuck do you keep doing it?” He throws his arms out wide in frustration.
“Because I love you!” It escapes from me like some kind of release, and I’m the first to be shocked by it.
Thomas’s face contorts into a mixture of upset and denial. Silence reigns for a handful of seconds before he demands, “What did you say?”
Not without hesitation, I reach for his face in the hopes of touching his cheek, and I repeat stubbornly, “I love you.”
It’s the last bit of fuse before everything explodes in our faces. Thomas grabs both my wrists and tosses them away. The enraged look he gives me tears a chasm in my chest. “You’ve fallen in love with me?” he hisses, his mouth twisting into a disgusted sneer. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” he bursts out, leaping to his feet while I stay kneeling on the floor, staring into the void ahead of me with a lost look. “I just finished telling you how dangerous I am to you, and this is what you say to me?”
I don’t answer him; I can’t. I’m too stupefied by his reaction to say anything at all.
“No one said anything about love,” he continues, almost to himself. “I started all this by fucking you every now and then because I felt like it. Because you were there and easy. Then I let myself get drawn into this ridiculous relationship that is constantly foundering, all because you kept throwing tantrums like a spoiled little girl. But no one ever said anything about love or any of that shit! It’s honestly pathetic that you could even think that.”
I’m completely speechless. Unmoored. Shattered.He’s drunk, I remind myself.And angry. He doesn’t mean what he’s saying. This is not him. This is not who you fell in love with. You fell in love with the good parts. The sweet, sensitive, and caring person that he allowed you to slowly unearth. Don’t let him ruin everything. Don’t let him treat you this way. Fight back.I say the words over and over in my head, like a mantra. I feel about an inch tall and more humiliated than I’veever been in my life.
“When you’re with someone…it’s normal to develop feelings,” I whisper in a broken voice. “Some things are just beyond our control…” My eyes are watering, and with extreme difficultly, I turn in his direction.
“Bullshit. Everything can be controlled! You spent years being treated like shit by a guy who’d rather fuck other girls than be with you, and now you’re going to tell me that you’ve fallen in love with someone like me? So let’s hear it, then: When did I make you fall in love with me? Was it when I fucked you and used your body like the bastard I am? Or maybe it was when I started coming inside you? Maybe that was the moment when you fooled yourself into thinking that it meant something to me? Or was it because I took you to my parents’ house? Fuck, you’re acting like a child.” His words hit me like a slap, taking my breath away.
“Enough,” I say, in a barely audible murmur. “Please, stop it.” I pick myself up off the ground with slow movements. It feels like the room has started spinning, and I look around for something to hold on to. But the only things I find are my own arms, which I hug tightly to my chest.
With one step, Thomas closes the distance between us. A gust of alcohol and weed hits me right in the face, making me feel nauseous. Or maybe it’s just him that makes me want to puke. He looms over me, looking menacingly down at me. He grabs me by the shoulders and brings his face down close to mine. Still in shock, I let myself be manipulated like a marionette.
“I don’t love you,” he spits cruelly at me. “And I never will.”
I am breathless. “Why…why are you doing this to me? What did I do to you to deserve this?” My voice has been reduced to a strangled sob. I can feel the pressure of his fingers slacken.
He’s looking at me. His chest rises and falls like he’s out of breath. I remain chained to his stare. And I don’t know how, but I feel like the look on his face is telling me—screaming at me—I will never be able to get the memory of your face right now out of my head.My face. Ablank face. Ripped apart by suffering. Ripped apart by the man I love.
“You can do better,” he growls through gritted teeth. “You deserve better.” He releases me with a shove that makes me stagger back. “Now get the fuck out of this room; I want to be alone,” he finishes, turning his back to me and grabbing the bottle of whiskey from the desk.
I just stand there helplessly, staring at his broad back with my legs trembling. I want to vent all my suffering at him. But I can’t so much as utter a word. It’s like a part of my brain has been paralyzed. I have no idea how, but I do somehow get out of the room. The room that, until a few weeks ago, I shared with him. The room that still contains some of my books, some of my clothes. A piece of me. I leave it there. I leave it with him, and then I disappear with my broken heart.
I got it all so wrong. I confessed my feelings to the man I love, and he, without even a shred of respect for me, obliterated them right before my eyes. Ridiculed them. I shouldn’t have done it, not like this. I made a mistake, a serious one. But I can’t believe that I just made up a love that never really existed. All those times he defended me, supported me, encouraged me, and protected me. He took care of me; he gave me everything he had to give. The night my mother kicked me out, he took me by the hand and brought me to an ice-skating rink because he knew how happy it would make me. He took me stargazing so I could relive a piece of my childhood. And he indulged me when I asked to stay in the rain with him, just because it would bring me joy.
