Growing Pains
This cryin' thing fuckin' sucks, yo. The few times I have cried, didn't last very long. What I'm doin', now? Goes somewhere in the category of Never-Thought-This-Would-Happen. He's holdin' me, he's forgiven me, Wes has forgiven me, and I have no fuckin' clue what to do next
( Read more... )
Somehow, her move both surprises me and doesn't at the same time. I knew what I was doing when I slid up behind like that, knew the kind of reaction I was aiming to get out of her. This is Faith, after all.
What I didn't expect is the passion with which she's attacked me. As her hand snakes under the edge of my shirt, I reach up to tangle my own in her long, dark hair. Our lips crash together, tongues plundering, teeth nipping playfully. There's a definite feeling of enjoyment in Faith's movements, the way she hooks herself around me. It's rather refreshing.
She wriggles herself against me at just the right angle, causing me to groan, breaking our kiss. She certainly knows how to get a reaction from the male of the species.
Suddenly, I realize that the garage door is still up, and while I'm enjoying this, I really don't want any neighbors getting an eyeful if they happen to be passing by. Reaching up, I slap my hand on the button on the wall, closing the door. Within moments, we're enclosed in the dimness, the light overhead casting a yellowish pallor over everything.
"That's better," I say and pull her back toward me to kiss again, my free hand pushing down a strap on her tank top to reveal one of her breasts. Cupping my palm over it, I flick my thumb over her nipple, grinning into the kiss at the reaction I get.
Reply
Damn, this boy's good. He exposes a breast, toyin' with the nipple, and I can feel the smile on his lips through our kiss from my little hum of approval. However, it's in the middle of all this that my thoughts start wander, and suddenly, I'm pushin' him away, nearly knockin' him off the bike.
"Wait, we have to stop," I say, gaspin' for air not just from the heavy duty kissin' we were doin', but also from the panicky feelin' that's come over me.
Shit.
Now, he's lookin' at me like he did something wrong, which isn't true; he was rockin' big time. It's just...I always wanted to do it on a bike, and he's game, so for some odd, unknown reason I'm buggin'. I smile in a pathetic attempt to convince him that I'm five-by-five, but it ain't happenin', yo.
He knows me better than that, somehow, cuz I see the wheels spinnin' in that big 'ole brain of his.
Clearin' my throat and pullin' my strap up, I look him in the eye with a wicked grin on my lips. "I'm still in the game, Stud-Man. I just thought we'd have less injuries if we moved the party inside. Get what I'm sayin'?"
Reply
What? It takes my mind a moment to catch up with the fact that she's just pushed me away - almost knocking me off the Harley in the process. She was the one that started this. Have I done something wrong? Did my little move there piss her off? Did I read her signals wrong with how far she wants to go?
She's smiling at me, but it's not a real smile. It's not reflect in her eyes, and that tells me that something is definitely wrong, and I'm not sure what to say or do.
But then, all of the sudden, the smile grows into a grin and does reach her eyes. "I'm still in the game, Stud-Man. I just thought we'd have less injuries if we moved the party inside. Get what I'm sayin'?"
Is that all it is? Fear of injury? That doesn't seem like Faith...unless prison changed her more than I thought. I'm still a bit unsure about what just happened, but I decide to let her set the pace and kick my leg over the bike to get off.
"Loud and clear," I tell her. "Let's head upstairs then, and we'll figure out where we go from there."
We head inside the apartment building through the connecting door into the basement area. I'm not sure whether she would like me taking her hand or not, so not sure what to do, I rest my hand on the small of her back.
Reply
I'm not so good at givin' up control.
I shuffle, restlessly, on the balls of my feet until the ding sounds, and we walk down the hall to his door. We haven't said a word to each other since I stopped things in the garage. I'm pissed at myself, cuz he probably thinks I'm some kind of nutcase.
I wish I understood why he makes me so soft and girly. I'd sure as fuck stop it if I could, but I guess I'll figure it out, eventually.
Earl unlocks the door and barely gets inside to close it, before I grab him by the shirt and slam him against the wall, attackin' the buttons while I kiss the hell out of his mouth.
Just need to keep these fuckin' thoughts from ruinin' shit for me.
I work the shirt off and break the kiss to say, "See? This is much better." I drop kisses down his throat, stoppin' to nip his shoulder, playfully. "Didn't mean to freak you out. Not used to someone takin' me up on my offers, that's all."
And, why the hell am I tellin' him this? Shut up, Faith, and get back to the mackin'.
Right...sexy man at my disposal.
Then, I spot all the scars on him, and I realize that I didn't really study them when we were in Greenie's office. So many scars...god. Swallowin' the lump in my throat, I lean down and press my lips against the ones I know were a product of my handiwork. I wish I could pull the pain out of him, and put it back inside me where it belongs. He's carried it around long enough.
Wait a minute...why is his chest suddenly wet? Oh shit, I'm cryin' again.
Fuckfuckfuck
Why does this keep happening?
Reply
But just my fingers hook under the straps, she pauses, staring at my chest. I don't understand for a moment until she places a kiss on one of my scars - one of the ones she gave me, now a mirror image of itself. I open my mouth, not sure what to say to her when I suddenly realize...
She's crying.
Because of the scars? My brother and I forgave her, but obviously, she hasn't forgiven herself.
"Faith," I say softly, crooking my finger under her chin and lifting her face up to look at me. "It's all right - they're not...they don't bother me anymore."
Reply
"Faith"
His finger hooks under my chin, liftin' my eyes up to his.
"It's all right - they're not...they don't bother me anymore."
Shiftin' away from him, I pace. "How can you forgive me, when everytime you look in a mirror you see that? I was sick and cruel, and I nearly killed you! I...it...I don't want to...SHIT!"
I scream in frustration, throwin' my hands up while the tears continue to pour. Lookin' back at him, my voice squeaks wicked bad on my next words. "I don't know what's wrong with me. There's all this...stuff inside me, and I can't get rid of it. Why can't I get rid of it? I just want to be me again."
Reply
I think about trying to say something to her as she starts pacing in front of me, but when she screams, I realize that she's been bottling a lot up for a long time - and the scene in the car park in Dennys was just the tip of the iceberg. She needs to get this out of her system. Wicked bad, as she would no doubt say. So I let her continue to rage, even as it comes out like squeak of a mouse.
"I don't know what's wrong with me. There's all this...stuff inside me, and I can't get rid of it. Why can't I get rid of it? I just want to be me again."
She stops with this but is still pacing, running her hands through her hair, so I finally manage to pull myself away from the wall and move closer to her again though I don't block her movement.
"What do you want me to do, Faith? Yell at you? Rage at you like I did outside that bar last year? Would that make you feel better?" Deciding to risk it, I reach out and grab her as she passes me. "Look at me, Faith. You see these scars?" I point to several circular ones on my arm - knowing exactly where they are even though they're now on the opposite side. "My father gave me those with a cigar butt when I was ten and spilled coffee on his papers. And these?" I point several long scars on my side. "He gave me when he disciplined me with his belt."
I take a deep breath.
"You hurt me, Faith, but not like he did. You're sorry for what you did; you made reparations. My father has never been sorry in his life. So those scars are never going to stop hurting. But these?" I indicate the one she kissed and the other ones she gave me. "These have because I forgave you. The ones inside you won't until you forgive yourself. For everything. You have to let it go."
I pull her into my arms and hold her tightly against me, rocking her gently.
"Let it go, Faith."
Reply
"No," I say, but it's low and soft, and I just want to run as fast as I can outta here. However, he grabs my arm so I can't. I'm about ready to deck him, when he starts into his spiel.
"Look at me, Faith. You see these scars?"
I furrow my brow as my eyes land on the scars he's pointin' to. "My father gave me those with a cigar butt when I was ten and spilled coffee on his papers. And these?"
I shake my head, fuckin' terrified of what he's tellin' me.
"He gave me when he disciplined me with his belt."
Oh god, that's horrible. I had no idea.
"You hurt me, Faith, but not like he did. You're sorry for what you did; you made reparations. My father has never been sorry in his life. So those scars are never going to stop hurting. But these?"
He points to the ones I just kissed. "These have because I forgave you. The ones inside you won't until you forgive yourself. For everything. You have to let it go."
I'm frozen to the ground. I can't move. He's just shocked the hell outta me, yo.
Check that, now he's shocked the hell outta me, cuz he's pullin' me to him, rockin' me like a fuckin' baby.
"Let it go, Faith."
Damn him, and that sexy voice of his. Fuck. The tears are literally cascadin' down my face; I can't stop them. "I'm afraid it'll hurt too much. I need the pain to keep me alive. I might shrivel up and die if I let it go." I smoosh my face into his chest, then I raise my head up afte a few seconds of enjoyin' the way he smells. "I'm sorry about your dad. He's a royal fuck-up. I never met mine, but I'm pretty sure he was somethin' like that too." Reachin' up, I touch his face. "You deserved better."
Reply
I don't think Faith has known anything other than pain her entire life. I don't think she's ever known true happiness. Is this why she was so attached to the Mayor? Because he actually cared about her? It was no secret - at least not to me - that he saw her as a daughter. And she lost him too, even though it was necessary at the time. But I don't think she's ever been truly happy, truly open with anyone. She's cloaked herself in her pain.
"I'm sorry about your dad. He's a royal fuck-up. I never met mine, but I'm pretty sure he was somethin' like that too." Reachin' up, I touch his face. "You deserved better."
"So did you," I tell her. Reaching up, I wipe the tears on her cheeks away with my thumbs. "You never had a proper childhood, and then you were thrown into a role that put a hell of a lot of responsibility on your shoulders. It's amazing you've survived, but I have a lot of respect for you because you have."
After I finish wiping her tears away, I clasp my hand over the one still cupping my face.
"I know how hard it is to live with pain, and how frightening it is to face letting it go. It's not easy. But I can promise you that I truly don't hold anything against you. I've found that I really do care a lot about you...and I'll be here any way you need me."
Reply
Leave a comment