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After a few seconds of silence, he pinches my chin and forces me to look him in the eyes. “Only you get to determinewho knows your story,” he repeats with a fierceness I seldom attribute to Shinji. “What happens between us can’t affect what happens between you and Takeshi or me and my husband.”
“But you’ll want me to tell him.”
“And he’ll want to know how not to remind you of the pain you keep bottled inside you. Despite what we want, your needs come first.” He presses his lips against my forehead. “People in hell want ice water. Doesn’t mean they’ll get it. That applies to me and Takeshi, too.”
“You say the right things to appear accommodating.”
He exhales a long, audible breath. “I do the right things to be accommodating, too. That’s why whatever happens between us stays between us until you’re ready to share it with Takeshi. I expect you and my husband to share experiences I’m not privy to as well.”
His response surprises and comforts me. I don’t know if I’ll be able to relive the night that cemented my path all these years, but I also don’t want Takeshi looking at me with pity because he heard of my ordeal secondhand. But right now, Ineedto get through my first retelling. In sharing, I’m hoping to lance a wound and drain it of poisonous pus accumulated over the years.
“The guy… from college… He made promises, too. Said he loved me and understood my need to wait because I was a virgin. He made me believe in a real future, you know? He gave me hope for the days after I dealt with my father’s murderers. He lied. About everything. His sweet words and soft caresses were all a ruse to get what he wanted from me.”
At my confession, Shinji’s body turns to stone under my touch.
“What did he do?”
I shrug without looking at him. “He gave me a glass of wine.”
“That’s why you never drank anything Takeshi or I gave you unless we tasted it first?”
“Drinks from anyone, honestly.”
“I get the picture. If you don’t want to say anymore, we can stop here.”
I bark a sarcastic laugh and leap out of his arms to pace the confines of the suite. “You are so fucking annoying with that shit.”
He quirks his brow.
“Being so accommodating. Telling me what I need to hear even if it’s all bullshit.”
He raises a shoulder in a fuck if I care gesture. “Get used to it. This is who I am.” He spreads his arms across the back of the couch. “And to be clear, I’ll never bullshit you. What we have only exists with trust.”
The little fight I had in me flees with his matter-of-fact manner.
Trust? I wish I could laugh in his face about not trusting anybody, but I’d be lying to myself and him. Despite knowing Shinji and Takeshi for such a short period, they’ve shown me through their actions that I can trust them. I want to trust them. Deep down inside, I yearn to for the feeling I don’t have to keep my guard up twenty-four hours a day.
I hug myself tightly. “I think the worst part about what happened to me is I couldn’t fight. He took that from me. My ability to say no, to push him away, or even slap his face. I was completely powerless. And when I woke the next day, I couldn’t even blame him for being rough and hurting me because I don’t remember the act itself, only the violation after waking up naked beside him and the used condom he’d discarded. Oh, God, I’m going to be sick.”
I rush to the bathroom, everything I ate and drank races each other to escape my narrow esophagus.
I don’t know how long I stay in the bathroom, but when I join Shinji, he has a sealed bottle of ginger ale and crackers ready for me. He twists the cap so I can hear the seal being broken and sips before handing me the drink. I take it gratefully and swallow a mouthful, welcoming the burn as it goes down.
“How do you feel?”
“More emotions than I know what to do with.” I sit in a chair facing the sofa. By doing so, I take away the opportunity for Shinji to wrap me in his arms and provide more of his comforting embrace. In my current state, his gentleness is a threat to my stability.
“What do you need from me?” He kneels at my feet, beseeching me with his eyes and silently pleading with me to let him in further and give him a chance.
“I don’t want to feel anything. Can you help me numb the pain?”
Doubt and confusion enter his gaze. “I’m not an expert, but I don’t think what you want to do is healthy.”
“It may not be, but it’s what I need right now. Will you help me?”
“That depends. I won’t give you drugs if?—”
“I need you to fuck me like I’m a stranger. Someone without a face or a name.”
