Sunday Morning (Damaged #7.5)

 

I thought to challenge him again, but I didn’t. Instead, I pretended to take pity on him by not pushing the subject. In reality, I was mostly worried about myself. The violent heat behind his kiss promised a sexual power capable of wrecking me. In fact, I sat next to him for the rest of the night wondering if I really was too young for what I wanted.

 

Despite my age, Kirk owned me in every way that mattered.

 

 

 

 

 

10 - Jodi

 

 

After our first kiss, Kirk stumbled over himself to avoid me. I laughed at his awkwardness. At first anyway. Then I felt him pulling away. Not just physically but his heart was closing off from me.

 

I knew what it was like to live with someone who cared less about you than you cared for them. I’d felt that way all my life. Now Kirk and I were falling into the same sinkhole.

 

Picking me up became a chore for Kirk. He began showing up late. He would say nothing before dropping me off and driving away. No more long drives or dinners together. Kirk didn’t have the balls to admit we were over. He said it in every other way.

 

My heart hurt in a way it hadn’t for a long time. I’d never had a moment where I knew my mom didn’t really care about me. That knowledge was always there, taunting me.

 

I did remember the day I realized my dad was a monster. I felt so fucking dirty like his evil was genetically transferred to me. Beyond the shame of having such a violent pervert for a father, I also realized he wasn’t capable of loving me. I had no value to him. In fact, if he were free to raise me, I’d likely end up abused by him.

 

As the product of two awful people, I probably shouldn’t have wanted a violent man. In theory, I could find someone else, but who in the fuck else would I love besides Kirk? No other man would ever do. Unfortunately, the one who owned my heart wasn’t capable of letting me own his.

 

On the last day of school before Christmas break, one of my mom’s junkie lovers was waiting for me at the apartment. The guy was as thin as a rod from too many drugs and not enough food. He sported a mullet and droopy jeans. While I couldn’t remember his name, I suspected he was most likely in love with Mom. All of the others realized she was a loser. Not this schmuck. He actually thought they would live happily ever after in a haze of drugs and wedded bliss.

 

“Your mama wants you to come see her,” he said to me as I climbed off Kirk’s Harley.

 

“I’ll think about it.”

 

“She misses you.”

 

I frowned at him, wondering if he was lying or simply stupid. The guy smiled at me, and I realized he wanted to be some kind of father figure to me. He’d bring me home to Mom, and we’d sing Christmas carols. The guy was more than just high. He was delusional.

 

Kirk didn’t say a single word. He was as silent with Robin’s lover as he was with me most days. Rather than speak, he walked to the man and punched him square in the mouth.

 

I flinched at the sudden brutality. The guy dropped to the ground without even breaking his fall. He lay stunned, barely wiping his bloodied mouth. His eyes widened as Kirk stomped down on him.

 

I didn’t know if I should try to stop Kirk. My loyalty remained with him, but the guy was a harmless errand boy. Dealing with weeks of being ignored by Kirk left me filled with anger and fear. The first one was always easier to deal with, and I grabbed Kirk’s arm.

 

“Stop it.”

 

Kirk shot me a nasty look that made me feel worthless.

 

“Don’t come back,” Kirk told the injured man.

 

After snapping his fingers at me, Kirk pointed to the apartment entrance. He couldn’t even manage to speak two words to me to order me inside.

 

I obeyed him because I didn’t know what else to do anymore. I couldn’t leave him, yet staying made me feel like shit.

 

In the elevator, I noticed Kirk’s bleeding knuckles. Instinctively, I reached for them, but he yanked away his hand with the ferocity of someone touching fire. I stared at him the entire ride up to his apartment.

 

Once inside, Kirk walked to the kitchen sink and ran cold water over his knuckles. I followed him and stared until he finally gave in and acknowledged me.

 

“Is this what you want for your life?” he demanded.

 

“You being an asshole? No. If you mean seeing you beat up on losers, I don’t care about that.”

 

“You sure seemed to care a few minutes ago.”

 

“You were taking out your shit with me on that idiot’s face.”

 

Kirk studied me with his dark eyes, and I realized he hadn’t really, truly looked at me in weeks. Not since our kiss when he let down his guard and broke some internal Kirk rule.

 

“I don’t know what I’m doing anymore,” he muttered.

 

I grabbed a few paper towels off the roll and dabbed his damp and still bloodied knuckles.

 

“You’re punishing me for making you feel something.”