Everything Under The Sun

I would have kept walking away from him but the wall behind me stopped me cold. I was trapped between it, and a raging Atticus in front of me. But still, I was not afraid of him; I was only afraid of losing him; and I knew he would never hurt me no matter how loudly he yelled or how scary he looked.

“TELL ME!” he roared, sending shockwaves through me; I pressed the back of my head against the wall in reaction.

And as he stood there in front of me, as his eyes and his anger bore down on me, something inside of me changed.

Instead of cowering, I rounded my chin, wiped the tear tickling over the bottom, and pushed myself away from the wall and toward him boldly.

Atticus did not move.

“I’ll ask you again,” I said with courage. “Why does it matter? I gave it to you because it was mine to give—shouldn’t that be all that matters?” I reached out again with both hands.

(I didn’t push her away this time; my mind was off somewhere else. I took it from her…I took it from her…)

“I wanted you to have it,” I said with desperation.

He brought up both hands and pushed mine away as they went toward his face.

“It was your choice to give it away,” he exclaimed, “but if I had known, I never in a thousand fucking years would’ve taken it from you, freely or not!”

“But why? Tell me why!”

“BECAUSE IT WAS YOUR INNOCENCE!” he bellowed; angry tears rushed to the corners of his eyes. “The very core of your innocence, Thais; the thread that keeps you tethered to what’s left of the light!”—his eyes were ferocious, pain-filled—“There are two things”—two fingers shot upward—“just two threads that keep you tethered: your virginity and your hands—YOU HAD NO RIGHT!”

I blinked. My hands?




ATTICUS




“The moment you take a life with your hands,” I said, holding out my murderous hands in front of me, “you lose what’s left of yourself. And like your virginity, you can never get it back.” I laughed darkly, without humor.

“It all makes sense now,” I said, not looking at her. “The darkness is drawn to the light, the light to darkness,” I thought out loud. “I thought I was crazy falling for you, but now I know I why—the darkness is drawn to the light. It’s the natural fucking order of things!”

I looked at her with harsh, accusing eyes. “Why would you let me take that from you? Why would you put that on my shoulders?”

Without letting her answer, I stormed from the bedroom.




THAIS





I could hear his heavy footsteps moving down the hallway. I went out after him, and with each hurried step I felt myself panicking more. Where is he going? Why is he so angry? I knew there was more to this than what he’d told me.

“Atticus stop, please!”

He turned to me in the middle of the living room; fading sunlight poured in through the windows casting his furious, heartbroken face in a sheen gray; his fists were clenched.




ATTICUS





I just stared at her, waiting, though for what I didn’t know and no longer even knew what I might want from her anymore: My question answered that would make no difference? Her apologies I could not accept? Her assurances I could not acknowledge? I didn’t know!

Thais looked into my tortured face.

“Atticus,” she said, her voice desperate, soft like powder, “from the bottom of my heart, I’m sorry for not telling you”—(apologies I could not accept)—“But you have to understand that I wanted you to have my most precious gift”—(assurances I could not acknowledge).

She stepped closer, reached out to me. I didn’t stop her, or push her away, because one-half of me wanted to forgive and acknowledge, and I was at war with myself.

“But you wanted to know why,” she said, her eyes brimmed with moisture, “and I’ll tell you.”

She paused, inhaled deeply. “At first, I was afraid that if you knew I was a virgin you’d become someone different, that you’d turn on me and wouldn’t want to help me anymore; rape me even. Or…I was afraid you’d want to sell me.”

It was an answer that did make a difference—a world of difference!

I sucked a sharp breath into my starved lungs, stepped backward once, nearly stumbled, and then I stopped. My eyes were on her, but I wasn’t seeing her, my mind held hostage by a part of me I couldn’t control.

I couldn’t control…




THAIS




Atticus reached out, and my breath caught. Is he choking me? No, his hands are too careful to be choking me.

“Is that what you think of me?” he said through clenched teeth.

My hands came up and grabbed his wrists, but I did not struggle—I wanted to help him, to make him see and understand. I wanted to be where he was—because the light was drawn to the darkness.

His hands tightened with emphasis. “THAT’S WHAT YOU THINK OF ME?” he roared, veins pronounced around his temples, his nostrils flaring.

I stumbled backward as Atticus moved me toward the sofa; he pushed me onto it on my back and hitched up my dress, tore my panties down my legs with one swift hand. My heart raced, pounded behind my ribs to a frightened rhythm. But I didn’t want to get away; I wasn’t afraid of him—I wanted him. Oh, in the name of God and all things good, I needed him: his anger, his hatred, his sins, his darkness. I wept, and wept, down inside my core. Let me absolve you, Atticus! Please take my light! Please don’t let your darkness consume all that I know you are!

He lowered himself on me, and I did not struggle. I cried quietly, but I would not tell him no. I wanted this. I wanted Atticus.

“So that’s what you think of me,” he repeated, the same words heavy with the same pain. “This monster on top of you, a coldhearted rapist who could force himself on you? A man who could sell you?” Acid laced every word. Resentment laced every word.

He reached down and slid open the zipper on his pants; his eyes bore into me, never flinching, never blinking, never letting go—he was trembling, too, trembling with anger and heartbreak I had caused.

“After everything I’ve done to protect you, after all we’ve been through together? I want to hear you fucking say it, Thais!”

I gasped when I felt him near me; there was a tightness in my belly, the same I felt in my heart. He touched me, but he wouldn’t enter me. I wanted him to!

“Tell me,” he demanded, pressing himself against me but not with the teasing I was used to. “Tell me what you think of the man I am, the man you thought you knew, the monster on top of you right now, ready to force himself inside of you right now, to take what’s not his to take!”

But it is yours to take!

“Look into my eyes,” he roared, his face mere inches from mine, his body crowding me, suffocating me, filling me, loving me. “Look into these fucking eyes, Thais, and tell me what you see! I want to hear you say it!” He pressed harder against me; I could feel it, un-swollen, unforgiving, between my legs.

My fingernails dug into his arms as I held onto him; the tightness and pulling in my belly, and lower, too much to bear. I stared up into his fierce eyes, my mouth parted—I wanted him to kiss me.

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