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Aden
My hand moves faster and faster down the length of my cock, while the other plays with my balls until I come in my hand.
How pathetic, right? Jerking off to my brother and his girlfriend fucking like rabbits on the other side of the hotel. Very loud, horny rabbits.
The fact is, I know I’ll never have anything close to what they have. Intimacy is a joke to me, nothing more than the taking of someone’s virginity before I slink away, never to be seen or heard from again.
I wonder if the virgins all regret it afterward. Probably the men more than the women. Is it fucked up that I want them to? I want them to constantly think about the one night I took what they can only give once.
After those dark thoughts, maybe it’s time for a call to Dr. Allen.
Grabbing some tissues, I clean up my mess and tuck my dick back into my pants before pulling out my phone.
“Aden? How are you doing?” the doctor answers.
“Um, well, so I told you about my brother, right? And Blair, the girl whose virginity I took?”
“Yes.”
“They’re together now.”
“Oh. And how do you feel about that?”
“I don’t really know.”
“Are you angry?” he asks.
“No, not really. It’s more like I wish I were him.”
“So you’re envious?”
“I guess so.”
“That seems pretty reasonable. I’m assuming they have a fairly normal, healthy relationship?”
“Pretty much.”
“You’re capable of that too, Aden. You may not think you are, but you haven’t tried.”
“That’s never gonna happen for me,” I argue. “I’m too fucked up.”
“You’re not ‘fucked up’. Your past was traumatic, but we can continue to work through those issues if you’ll make the effort.”
“Doubtful,” I mutter.
“I wish you could see how you self-sabotage potential relationships in a preemptive attempt to push people away before they have a chance to try to get close.”
Is that what I do? Hurt them before they hurt me? That’s pretty much what I did to Blair, and what I usually do to the virgins, take what I want and leave them before they can ask for something from me in return. I gave enough of myself for those four shitty years. Not that I offered myself up voluntarily back then. A little at a time, pieces of me were taken unwillingly, and now I don’t think I have anything left to give. My mind isn’t the only thing broken. It’s my soul that’s incapable of being healed.
“Listen, why don’t we schedule some hourly appointments?” the doctor asks. “You haven’t been in to see me in almost three months.”
“I’m not in town. I’m in Kentucky.”
“Do you plan on staying there long? Because I would be happy to give you a referral to see one of my colleagues there.”
“Maybe,” I answer, although I have no intention of meeting a stranger and unburdening my baggage on them.
“In the meantime, why don’t you try and learn from your brother’s relationship? I bet that theirs is not as perfect as you think it is. They probably have their own challenges that they struggle to work through. See how that relationship grows into something you might want to have, and we’ll make a plan on how to obtain it.”
“Thanks, doc,” I tell him before ending the call.
The truth is that I’m happy for Brede and Blair. While at first I thought he was an asshole who was gonna hurt her, physically and emotionally, I ended up hurting her more. Like the doctor said, that’s what I do, sabotage from the beginning so that there’s nothing to go back to. Why bother?
When I was twelve, I lost my family, my father, and twin brother, who I was closer to than anyone else in the world.
Then, for four years, I grew close to my foster sister and brother. But as soon as my foster parents were arrested, Tyson and Faith went their separate ways, putting distance between the three of us; and I know exactly why. Just like me, they didn’t want the reminder of our past, and that’s all we were to each other once we escaped that hellhole -—a reminder of the shame and humiliation we endured.
Since then, I haven’t had anyone but my dad, who is behind bars. That is, until my path crossed with Blair and Brede’s. Plotting and planning on how to get my dad out of prison, I waited for what seemed like forever for the chance to have unfettered access to the DA’s house. And when I finally got it, how ironic to find not only the perfect witness for his case but my brother too. Following him around for the first few months after he was discharged from the army, I thought the worst of him, knowing he was leaving a trail of death. If Blair’s right, I should’ve done more research on his victims. Then maybe I would have understood him better.
And now, why do I wish he was as horrible as I initially thought?
Maybe because thinking of him as a monster made me feel a little better about being one. Like maybe we had no choice but to turn out fucked up. So if he’s not, that means I’m all alone in a world that doesn’t make sense.
