Everything Under The Sun

“SAY IT!” he bellowed; a tear slipped down the bridge of his nose and dripped onto my face, tumbled down my cheek, and to see him cry, it changed everything, it made sex the last thing I wanted. “FUCKING SAY IT!”

“I SEE MY SAVIOR!” I cried out and Atticus flinched. “I see a man—not a fucking monster!—who risks his life every day for mine! A man who I can’t live without in this world!” Tears poured from my eyes; I could hardly see him clearly anymore for them. “I see a man who I love and cherish and who loves and cherishes me even though he doesn’t say it. And I don’t regret giving myself to you! I WILL NEVER REGRET IT!”

Silence.

For a moment that felt like eternity, neither of us spoke. For eternity, we did not blink; we did not move; we did not think.

But eternity was too short, and Atticus got up.

Seconds later, the front door slammed against the wood frame and he was gone.





49


THAIS





I stared at the back of the door for fifteen minutes without moving. Perhaps I never blinked. Am I dead? Is this what death feels like? The world no longer spinning on its axis, no sound, no breeze, no movement, the complete and utter feeling of emptiness, blackness in the farthest reaches of my soul?

No—I was very much alive, I was sure of it, because I was also sure that in death there was no pain; there was no more sorrow or anguish or suffering. And in this moment, I felt every bit of what true pain felt like. Losing one’s soulmate, the fading heartbeat and ebbing pulse of true love, the one I was meant to go through life and into death with…that was true and unbridled pain in its purest form. And I could not bear it!

I fell to the floor and cried into my hands.

What have I done?




An hour passed into darkness—no Atticus. I remained on the floor.




Two hours passed into darkness—nothing. I picked myself up and went into the bedroom we shared, curled up on my side against the mattress we shared. I had cried so much I had no tears left. I had thought of Atticus so much that the image of his face left a scar in my memory. Was he coming back? Or was he gone forever?




Three hours passed into darkness.




Four hours. The moonlight was fading; a humid breeze blew in through the open window, but I took no comfort from it.

“Please come back…” I said softly as I lay staring at the starless sky.

I could not sleep, could not even close my eyes.

Then, nearly five hours later, I felt the heat from Atticus’ body atop mine.

“Atticus?” I whispered.

“Shh.” He dipped his head and touched his lips to mine.

My arms went around him; my tears returned; I cried against his mouth. “I’m sorry,” I said onto his lips. “I’m so sorry…”

“Shh,” he said once more and kissed me once more, and then lifted my dress over my head. “I don’t deserve you, but you mean everything to me”—he kissed me again: my lips, my throat, my breasts, and then back to my lips—“I would do anything for you, absolutely anything, and nothing you could ever do or say to me will ever change that.”

My heart ached…oh how my heart ached!

“Thais, I would stain the rivers red with the blood of a thousand men for you—I would do anything for you,” he repeated, and then kissed me hungrily.

I wound my fingers within his hair so tightly, afraid to let him go.

“But right now,” he whispered onto my mouth, “I’m going make love to you the way your first time should have been.”

I felt him press between my legs, and a hunger grew in my belly, and in my heart. He circled my left nipple with his tongue, then the right, tugged them gently with his teeth.

“Oh, Atticus, I—”

“Shh, love.”

“I can’t bear it, I…” I could not finish; his kiss stole the words from my lips.

“Atticus,” I said, and two tears tracked down my cheeks, “promise me you’ll never leave me again—promise me.”

He kissed away one tear, and then the other.

“I promise you, I will never leave you again”—he kissed my forehead, and then my mouth—“You gave yourself to me, and you’re mine. And you’ll always be mine. Until the day you put me in my grave, Thais Fenwick, you belong to me.”

I gasped as Atticus slowly pushed himself inside of me. And with every thrust, my heart threatened to burst with love for him, with absolute pleasure and lust for him. I had never known what sex and love and passion felt like until this moment.

Atticus filled my soul with every part of him, surrendered to me with every breath; he allowed the walls he’d so carefully constructed around his heart, to fall into a mountain of shattered bricks around us—and every breath we took, I thought felt like hallelujah…




ATTICUS




She cried out softly; her hands found the quilt beneath her head, and she gripped it and tore at it with her fingers. She cried out my name, and to hear her, to feel her tighten around me, it tore me apart. My chest ached; my heart was full and heavy. It took several moments to catch my breath, to gather the pieces of my mind scattered in all directions. After twenty-four years, many women, the collapse of society, death around every corner and no hope for life in sight, I, for the first time knew what it felt like to be in love.

I collapsed next to her.

I heard her sniffle.

“Why are you crying?” I asked, and I took her into my arms. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

“No…no…no,” she said, shaking her head against the crook of my arm. “You didn’t hurt me at all…I just…”

“You just what? What is it?” I pressed my lips against her hair, traced the tip of my fingers across her arm.

Thais sniffled again, reached up and wiped away her tears.

“I’m just glad that you, of all the people left in the world, are the one who found me.” I drew her closer, tightening my arms around her. “I never dreamed that I would go through this life without my sister,” she went on. “But do you want to know something?”

“Tell me,” I said, my hand still stroking her arm.

She was quiet for a moment, the last of our words still hanging in the air between us.

“When my sister died, and you lifted me into your arms to take me away, for a split second, just long enough to make me hate myself for thinking something so selfish in the worst possible moment, I…” She paused; I stroked her hair. “…I asked God—not long after cursing Him—to give you to me. I didn’t care in what way, even if it was only for the sake of helping me, or ending my life for me, but I asked Him to give you to me—I just never imagined that He would…give me so much.”

I looked up at the ceiling.

“I should probably tell you something, too,” I said.

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