Page 68 of Crown of Steel

It seems like the world has continued and I’m still here, sprawled out in a cold bed, feeling sorry for myself. Because the more I’m here, by myself, the more I hate that Arthur is gone, that he was here in the first place, and that his absence wants to persuade my unstable mind into believing that he was never here in the first place.

He took my virginity, the first person to breach my body and claim me as his.

Struggling to get out of bed, I wince. Yeah, they are vivid memories. My ass stings from last night’s intrusion. But damn… it’s such a good sting.

Scurrying over to my small bathroom, I turn on the faucet and get my cold body warmed up. At the sight of a new bottle of shower gel that’s waiting for me, my fingers pause. Next to it stands a bottle of almond oil, which is, judging from the image of its elongated shape, meant for my ass.

I frown when I hold the two bottles up. I can’t deny that this offering soothes something in my heart, just as it no doubt will heal my aching body.

It’s a trick.

Shoving all thoughts aside, I check the running water for the temperature, then hop in when it’s warm enough. The hot jets of the water feel a little like a rainfall directly from heaven, warming my cool limbs and pumping strength into my core. I end up staying there for a long time, just staring back into last night’s events.

I still can’t wrap my head around it. What the hell’s going on here? What am I missing? Why would Arthur…my chest pangs at that delicate moment when he saw me coming through the window, panicked and trembling from those sounds in the woods. He saw that. Caught me shivering like a fucking leaf as if chased by the devil himself.

Restless brothers who want to play.

The thought makes me grimace.

Why has he told the others that he has claimed me? I just don’t fucking get it.

I stay under the shower until the water runs cold, then after drying myself, use the oil to soothe my sensitive skin. It becomes warm on my fingers, and when I apply it around my rim, the oily texture is absorbed quickly, leaving a tingling sensation and a faint scent of a nutty aroma.

But by the time I’ve put on some fresh clothes, my anxiety levels spike. They have replaced all those soft, secret murmurs and clench my throat and chest.

“I will fight you. I will fight all of you,” I murmur into the quiet space of my foggy bathroom. I’ll fight all those unwanted feelings that screw me up from inside and make me feel even more confused. My head’s already full enough as it is, and I’m not sure if I’m strong enough to make space for my big stepbrother and the intense desire he makes me feel. That intense fire that burns through my veins whenever I’m with him, whether we fight or fuck.

Fight or fuck.I bite my lip, throwing my towel in the hamper. I let him have me, let him arouse me with his filthy words and this misplaced supremacy, as if he could somehow claim some part of me. And I wanted it. Wanted him, his raspy murmurs, his warm hands curling around my frame, pulling me close, his words…god, I love his words. Love when he shares his thoughts, gives me a peek into his life.

And I shouldn’t, because if someone finds out, we’ll both be in serious trouble. Right? No, it can never happen again.

I can beat this, this…ridiculous infatuation with my stepbrother. Still, I find myself making up the bed, biting my bottom lip when my fingers reach out for my pillow and I press it against my nose, inhaling deeply. Greedily. Fuck, his scent is still there. It’s a woodsy musk that reminds me of his aftershave combined with sweat and…him. Arthur’s own, unique essence.

After taking another whiff, I scoff out loud, then throw the pillow back onto the floor of my wardrobe, slamming the door shut as if I’m afraid it can somehow get up and break free.

I end up spending that entire day in my bedroom, alone, searching and finding haunting thoughts and letting them control me. I need the hurt, the stinging clench of disappointment, to know how to carry on. We design those shackles we wear in life. And then we melt into them, searing our flesh to chains.

It’s easier. Always easier to evoke pain than to hope for bliss, because it’s volatile, unpredictable. It will come and go as it pleases…like Arthur did.

He has left me the chessboard on my desk where he started a new game.

My books won’t do, and evenLe Petit Princecan’t seem to sprinkle his contagious curiosity over me today. Still, I clutch the book in my hands when I sit at my desk, from where I stare outside and right at the forest.

“And now here is my secret, a very simple secret; it is only with the heart that one can see rightly, what is essential is invisible to the eye.”

“I’m so lost,” I mutter in reply. “I don’t know what my heart wants anymore.”

But I know what my brain wants.

I’ll protect you.

The thought is reassuring. In the end, the only person I can count on is myself. And when my heart is weak, my mind will give support.

Always.

Once more, I fall back into a rhythm of avoidance.

Between waking up even earlier than before and heading out way before the others do, peace and quiet is secured. Even during school days, the canteen is quiet at six in the morning, and I quickly claim a nice spot by the window asmyseat. Soft Christmas music fills the lethargic air, even though we still have a few weeks to go before the break. I guess even canteen personnel need those stupid, tacky songs to compensate for the stormy weather that has been tormenting us. It feels like our days have turned into an accumulation of rain and wind, the perfect portrait for my own feelings. It’s hard to imagine that this part of the country gets hot during spring and summer.

---