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Seen my boyish hand landing on the bare ass of one of our mothers. It blended with my own larger one as I reached for Rachel against my will.
I’d never been able to say no.
I’d screamed the first few times.
I’d fought his hold as he made me abuse them.
I’d tried to shut down, but he soon learned how to keep me present.
Kind words, nice praise, sweet encouragements.
Love.
Motherfucking love had shackled me to such atrocities.
“That’s it, Onn Ree. She’s all yours. They’re all yours. Do you like it?”
“That’s it, mon ami.” Victor’s voice rearranged my memories, inserting himself into them, replacing the role of my sadistic father. “Get your cock out and stick it in her.”
The noise of my zipper as I shoved my pants down merged with the sobs I’d made as a little boy, forced by his father to do such unspeakable things.
The similarities. The sickening déjà vu.
“Good boy, Onn Ree.”
I fisted myself with a quaking hand.
“Do it, Mercer.”
I choked as I notched inside a woman I didn’t want.
“All the way now.”
“You’re doing so well, my son…”
“Thrust, Henri.”
“Thrust, Onn Ree.”
My chin sank onto my chest as I pushed.
I didn’t feel a damn thing.
I checked out.
Went numb.
I’d forgotten for a reason.
I’d forgotten because I couldn’t survive.
The nausea in my stomach as I threw up the rich chocolate cake my father had given me the first time I’d drawn blood. The trembles and shakes as he came for me again and again. The horrors as he tried to make my prepubescent body come. The absolute despair as he taught me how to swing a flogger—
“My turn.” Victor let out a roar as he mounted Ily in front of me.
She cried out.
Her eyes snapped closed.
