Page 77 of Until You

George claps Gray on the back, a wide smile on his face. “That’s it, my boy. That’s it.”

Gray shakes his head. “It’s not possible, though. She won’t even speak to me.”

George laughs and empties half his glass, quickly succumbing to the liquor. He’s already slurring his words more than he did at the start of the video, and it’s only been a few minutes.

“She doesn’t need to speak. She just needs to spread her legs.”

Gray runs a hand through his hair, frustrated, though likely not for the reasons George thinks. “How am I supposed to get her to do that when she won’t even speak to me?” he says, agitated.

George smiles, and even through my screen, it makes chills run down my spine. That glint in his eye… it’s pure evil. He glances around to check no one is listening, and then he leans in.

“In my time I used a liquid one of my buddies got me,” he says. “Put it in her drink, and in just a few minutes, and she’ll be putty in your arms.”

“I don’t know, man,” Grayson says, an edge to his tone that George misses entirely. “I’m not sure it’ll be the same if she’s just lying there.”

George shakes his head and drops his hand on Gray’s shoulder. “You’ll still enjoy it. Just knowing you still get to have what you’re owed will make it enjoyable. It’ll be even better when she eventually wakes up and starts to fight you. Just make sure you tie her up.”

I feel sick. This man… this man can’t be Grayson’s father. They can’t be related. I can’t believe he’s sitting there without an ounce of remorse, telling Grayson torapesomeone.

“You talk a good talk, but have you ever actually done it?”

George grins, and that smile of his makes my stomach turn. He empties his whiskey glass, and Grayson refills him yet again.

“There was a girl… much like yours. She told me she was mine, that she’d marry me. They’re all the same, those whores.”

He lifts his glass to his lips, his expression betraying the bitterness he must still be feeling.

“So you speak from experience then? I thought you were all talk.”

George straightens. “I told you I aint no pussy. I met her at the place I took her on our first date, a vial in my pocket. She was done for within minutes. I took her home to the bed I expected to share with her and tied her to it. She looked beautiful, lying there.”

Gray chuckles, but it’s obviously forced. George doesn’t notice, though. The liquor and the memories have him distracted.

“What was it like?”

George smiles, his expression gleeful. “Oh, it was glorious. I stained my sheets with her virgin blood the way I always knew I would. In hindsight, I wish I’d waited for her to wake up before I did it. She cursed me, but she enjoyed it. She was so wet, her body telling me how much she wanted me even though her lips lied.”

Gray lifts his arm, taking another sip, I assume. “She cursed you, huh? Your girl got a name?”

George nods, grinning. “Ida. Oh, beautiful Ida. She cursed the hell out of me, but she wanted me. She tells me we conceived a baby that night, but it can’t be true. She wants my attention. I’ve kept an eye on her through the years. If we had a baby, I’d know. She’d have come for alimony years ago.”

He takes another big swig of his drink, and my stomach churns. A confession. That was a confession. Grayson just sat there and listened to his father explain how he raped his mother. He sat there, and he played along.

He’s ensured his mother justice by doing so, but at what cost?

59

Grayson

I stare at the large cross at the center of the church. I’ve never sat in these pews. I’ve never even entered this church, but today I felt compelled to go.

I couldn’t go back home to Aria after the filth I sat through, the things I heard. Not that this place will help. Aria told me that this is where Ida and George met. They attended church together, but that clearly couldn’t save George from his twisted mind, nor Ida from her fate.

Despite all of that, I find myself here, where it all started. I find myself staring up at the cross, part of me hoping that there’s some sort of purpose to all of this. Was everything that happened pre-destined? Was I meant to exist, or am I truly just the personification of my father’s sins?

I can only assume I was left here because my grandfather blamed the church for what happened. Because he thought they should take care of the consequences of the crimes they failed to prevent. I chuckle to myself, the sound reverberating through the empty church. It’s all absurd, really.

My eyes fall closed when I hear the clicking of heels resounding through the halls. I should have known. I should have known my girl would find me anywhere I go. I stare at the cross as she gets closer. I don’t need to turn and look to know it’s her. My heart knows.

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