Too Late

Everything.

The tears fall from my eyes and into my hair. He looks at the tears sliding down my face and then he leans forward, bringing his face to mine. He moves his mouth to my temple and I feel his tongue as it draws up some of the tears. When he pulls back, his smile is gone.

“I thought they would taste different,” he whispers.

I start sobbing. My pulse has gotten so fast, it’s one constant beat now. Or maybe it stopped altogether. I close my eyes again. “Just get it over with, Asa,” I whisper. “Please.”

Some of the pressure on my stomach decreases, as if he’s readjusting himself on top of me. Then I feel him lift my shirt and press a hand to my stomach. “Congratulations,” he says. “Is it mine?”

I keep my eyes closed and refuse to respond to him. He rubs his hand over my stomach for several seconds. I feel him move closer again and his mouth is at my ear. “Are you wondering how the fuck I got inside your apartment?”

I was, but now I’m wondering how the fuck I can get him out.

“Do you remember this morning when your good friend, Luke, let the maintenance man in to change the filter on the air conditioning?”

The maintenance guy? What? No, that isn’t possible. Luke asked for his identification. Verified his identity with the manager. We know everyone who works on this property, and that man has worked here for over two years.

“He did me a small favor and unlocked the window while Luke had his back turned. You know how much he did it for? Two grand. No questions asked. He knew you were here, he knew you were pregnant, and he knew I had something terrible planned because why else would I pay him two grand to pretend he was doing routine filter changes? He didn’t care, Sloan. Two grand is all he needed and then he walked away, no questions asked.”

I’m sick.

Sick.

Humans are sick.

If that man knew what Asa was capable of, he never would have done that. He never would have unlocked the window. He probably thought Asa was breaking in to steal a TV.

I might be crying even harder now, disappointed that humanity fails to live up to even the minimum morals.

“Your little surveillance buddy out front never even saw me, because sadly, Luke doesn’t think you’re worth the money to hire surveillance for every point of entry into this apartment. Does he really think I’m stupid enough to go through the front fucking door?”

The more he talks, the less I hear. Somehow, my fear is numbing me. I can’t feel my body anymore. I can’t feel Asa on top of me.

I slowly stop feeling anything.

But my conscience isn’t doing me any favors. I’m still aware.

I’m aware of the fact that he’s removing my clothes. Piece by piece.

I’m aware of the fact that his tongue is in my mouth.

I’m aware of the fact that he’s doing these things to me, on the bed I share with Luke, in an apartment I naively thought was safe.

I’m aware of the fact that he’s inside me now.

I can’t feel him.

I can’t see him.

But I know.

I am aware.

I am aware that this is what my death is. This is how my shitty, despicable joke of a life is going to end. This is how my baby’s life will end, because I couldn’t do enough to protect us.

I don’t deserve Luke. If I did, this wouldn’t be happening. Luke was put in my life so that when I experienced this, it would hurt infinitely more to know that I’m losing him.

I’m not sure what I did to God to deserve this. But for Asa to be here, right now, doing these things to me, I must have done something terrible in this life. Or in a past life.

I deserve this. I’m sure I do.

I choke on my tears; I choke on his tongue.

I am aware, and it’s the last thing I want to be right now. I’d much rather be dead.





“That felt different.”

I’m still panting, recovering from that unplanned moment between us. I pull out of her and collapse on top of her.

She never even tried to stop me. She just let me fuck her and she never even said no.

Fucking whore.

It was better back when I knew I was the only one who had ever been inside her. But just then, every time I pushed into her I felt like I was sharing her. Knowing Luke knows what it feels like to be a part of her made me want to put my hands around her throat and squeeze both lives out of her. I probably would have if she’d have put up a fight, but she didn’t.

She misses me. Any other woman in the world would have done whatever she could have to fight me off of her, but not Sloan. She knows that’s where she belongs. Beneath me. Surrounding me.

I lie next to her and prop myself up on my elbow. She still has her eyes closed and she’s trembling. I don’t know if it’s because she’s scared or because I brought her close to orgasm. Probably both.

I hate that she’s still just as fucking beautiful as she was when she was innocent. That same shiny dark hair, long enough to cover her breasts. Those same sweet, soft lips that used to belong only to me and my body. I drag my finger down her stomach, over the tiny bump, and then I cup my hand between her legs. I sigh as I look down at her. I fucking miss her. I fucking hate her so fucking much, but I miss her.

“Look at me, Sloan.”

She whimpers and tries to choke back another sob.

“Sloan, look at me.”

She does, slowly. She opens her tear-filled eyes and tilts her head just enough to make eye contact with me.

“I miss you, baby.” I rub my hand between her legs while I talk to her, reminding her of how I used to make her feel. Maybe if she remembers how good we were together, we can somehow get back to that. “I miss wrapping myself around you at night while I slept. Do you know how fucking lonely it is in our house, Sloan? It’s fucking lonely without you there. I hate it.”

She closes her eyes again. I smile, because I know how hard it is for her to keep them open when I make her feel things with my hands like this. I loved watching her build until her eyes squeezed shut and she’d scream out my name. I slide a finger inside her and just like I hoped, she squeezes her eyes even tighter.

I press a soft kiss against her lips. “I thought I was over you,” I say, thinking back to yesterday. To the rage-filled rampage I went on with Jesus-on-a-stick. “I hated you, Sloan. I don’t like hating you, baby.”

She sucks in a long rush of air, and my mouth is so close to hers, she steals some of my breath. I give her more. I press my mouth to hers and I kiss her, filling her mouth with my tongue. Just like when I was inside her a moment ago, she refuses to kiss me back.

“Sloan,” I whisper, dragging my lips across hers. “Baby, I need you to kiss me back. I need to know if I still mean anything to you.” I remain patient, still touching her, watching her. She finally opens her eyes. A huge tear, bigger than the rest, rolls down her face.

And then she remembers. She lifts her head, parting her lips for me.

She remembers how much I’ve fucking done for her. She remembers how much I fucking loved her. How hard I loved her. When her tongue slides against mine, I want to fucking cry. My chest fills with fire and if I’m not inside her again, I’m scared I’ll combust.

“Baby, I’ve missed you so much,” I say to her. But then I shut up, because she’s kissing me like she used to kiss me, before she was corrupted. She’s kissing me the way she kissed me that first night in the alley when my mouth was the first one to introduce her to a kiss.

She’s moving now, lifting her arms, rubbing her hands up my neck. Her fingers slide through my hair and I needed this so much. It was worth the risk of removing the ankle monitor. So worth it. I know I came here with different intentions, but that’s because I was angry. Luke makes me feel so much hatred, it caused me to confuse what I feel for him with what I feel for Sloan. It made me think she was evil, but she’s not.

She’s a victim.

She’s simply Luke’s victim and she just needed me to remind her of how different it feels to be held by me. She needed to feel me inside her to remind her that she’s being brainwashed to forget me. But she didn’t forget me.

She remembers.

“Asa,” she whispers, saying my name with desire. “Asa, I’m sorry.”

I pull back, shocked that I can even force words out when I need her so fucking much I can’t even breathe. “Baby, don’t,” I say, brushing the hair back from her face. “It’s okay. We’ll get past this. He made you hate me, and for a moment he made me hate you. But that’s not us, Sloan. You don’t hate me, Sloan.”

She shakes her head. “I don’t, Asa. I don’t hate you.”