Page 34 of That Sik Luv

“You slapped me,” he says through gritted teeth, his nose pressing firmly against my cheek.

“You knew! You knew this was happening and did nothing to stop it!” I bark out, thrashing wildly in his hold.

He slams my wrists against the locker above me, causing pain to shoot down my arms.

“Wake the fuck up, church girl,” he seethes. “This isn’t an isolated incident.”

I attempt to kick him, but his body seals itself to mine.

“Your naivety disgusts me,” he continues, “but Jesus, that swing...” He sucks in a breath through his teeth. “Fuck, I love those hands on me.”

I fight his hold against my arms, rocking my body violently against the locker as I groan out in frustration.

“Get it out,” he says. “C’mon,” he eggs me on.

This is what he likes. The fear. Aero gets off on my fear and aggression. The thrill of it all paired with my anger has me exploding against him, taking out all of my frustrations in this moment, using him as my punching bag.

But he’s too strong. I feel his smirk against my cheek, his hair tickling the side of my face as I breathe him in while panting with exhaustion.

“Go ahead. Fight me, little doll. It’ll only get you fucked,” he says in his gritty tone.

“Get your hands off of me!”

“Forgive me, please,” he says sarcastically, gripping both my wrists in one hand above me. “Everything I do is for you. Don’t you see that?”

His other hand slides up the inside of my forearm until it reaches the top of my head. Two fingers slide down the middle of my forehead, slowly running down the curve of my nose until they reach my lips, almost memorizing the profile of my face. He pushes those two fingers between my lips, hitting my teeth. I follow his lead, opening my mouth as they push through onto my tongue.

He rests his forehead against mine in the darkness, sliding his fingers deeper and deeper, until he’s hitting the back of my throat and I’m coughing around them, choking on their length. A breathy groan escapes his lips and my eyes water as he holds them there for a second before pulling them back out.

Taking the two fingers, I hear his lips part as he sucks on them. In some sick and twisted way, something about the crude act causes a stirring in the pit of my stomach. The temptations that endlessly plague me.

“See?” he whispers. “You’re not his little slut. You can’t even properly swallow a cock.”

The graffiti. His sick and twisted games are endless.

“You did that?” I seethe through clenched teeth. “You wrote those vile things about me?”

He sighs against me. “Forgive me. Tasteless, I know. Not really my style, but...when in Rome, we do as the Romans do, don’t we?”

He’s insane. His thought processes are so beyond messed up that I can’t even understand him half the time. There is always an element of religion in the riddles he spews, and the root of that is something I must get to. His entire identity is a maze to me; an endless cycle of twists and turns. The finish line, never in sight.

“Why?” I cry out as the tears threaten to reappear. “Why are you doing this to me?”

I’m frustrated. Confused. Hurting. Feeling lonelier than I’ve ever felt before, knowing a leader who I’ve dedicated my life to has deceived me and everyone else in our community in the most disturbing way possible. All while fighting these dark, indecent sensations Aero continuously siphons from me. My head is swirling, my mind a complete fog.

“For the Lord your God is he who goes with you to fight for you against your enemies, to give you the victory,” he recites to me.

I still my body against his, absorbing the words, listening to the phrase, and deciphering it. Letting out a sigh of disbelief, I relax against his hold as my mind works at the familiar words. It’s one of the first passages he ripped from the Bible and left for me on my dresser.

“They want to mute you, Briony,” he whispers. “Take away your voice. Clip your bud before you bloom.”

The cryptic code, revealing his answer. He hasn’t been doing any of this for no reason. He’s been silently protecting me in his own sick and twisted way. Protecting me from the people he assumes are my enemies, while simultaneously hardening me for the fight.

“But I need you to bloom. I need you spread before me in all your dark, delicious beauty. Unravel your strength and show me the depth between your petals,” he says, running the back of those same fingers along my cheek.

My heart catches at his words. They’re meant to mean something deeper, but when he says them in that cracked, needy tone, the muscles in my thighs tighten again. My body deceives me in his presence, always seeking something more.

“I’m your God now,” I whisper his words back to him, the same words he wrote over the passage, finally deciphering the message.

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