Page 117 of Ecstasy
I kick the dresser anyway, loving the pain that lights up from the tip of my foot to my thigh. I kick it again, the wood splintering.
It feels pretty damn good.
Imagining my father walking in on this makes it feel even better. He did it. He probably held her so tightly. He probably suffocated her. He never wanted to visit her family. Never wanted her out of his sight. It’s why he made such an elaborate home office.
They were always together when he wasn’t in the office.
I thought it was because they were happy.
Really, it was because she was trapped. He didn’t let her live.
But I let Zara live. I let her do whatever she wanted.
And she beggedhim.
The one who doesn’t let her do shit.
I kick the dresser again. And again. And again. And soon there’s a hole in the bottom of it and my heart is pounding, sweat on the back of my neck.
I tip the whole fucking thing over and it splinters onto the floor, the sound ringing in my ears.
My chest is heaving, and I step back, up against the wall. I knock my head against it, close my eyes, my hands balled into fists.
Everything swims into focus then.
Everything I’ve done.
Everything I should have done.
The scene with Zara at the pool plays in my head. How I dove in to save her.
Then one with her between me and Alex that night Rihanna died.
I didn’t really want to hurt her.
I just wanted her to learn a lesson. I just wanted her to know that he wasn’t good for her. He’s never been good for her.
He’s never let her take a breath without him. Never let her live without him. Just like my father, with my mother.
It’s why she held me under.
I know it’s his fault.
He was too much for her. He was too controlling. Too demanding.
I would let Zara do anything she wanted, if she’d justchoose me.
Instead of someone that wants to change her.
I’ve known Zara was a lost cause since I first met her. But I didn’t care. I don’t want to change her. I didn’t want to changeforher, either. We could be as fucked up as we wanted to be, together. I haven’t gone to any of my appointments, for her. Because she would want me just how I am.
I slam my fist against the wall.
My kind of fucked up is the kind I can’t tell anyone I know. But it’s the kind she’d understand.
But she begged him. Even after he treated her like shit.
Maybe that’s what she wants.
