Authors: Olivia Lynde
Oh no, you stupid Kristie, I'm not going
to start doubting my ability to keep Seth happy! We won't get bored with each
other. And eventually, we'll probably get to a point where we won't feel the
need to spend together every single second of our spare time—that is to say,
someday we'll become more like a normal couple.
But I kind of feel that won't be
happening any time soon. Right now, we're still playing catch-up after our five
lost years, and we still have the uncertainty of our future together hanging
like a sword of Damocles over our heads. So for now at least, I think that Seth
and I will keep giving all that we have to give and keep taking from the other
all that they have to offer. In other words, we'll keep giving our all to our
relationship.
Living like this, so utterly meshed with
each other, with this obsessive need we seem to have for each other—I realize
it may not be exactly... healthy. Not exactly sane, maybe, according to the
usual societal norms.
But hey, it's not like I was sane
before, when I was living on my own. If anything,
he
makes me sane. He
makes me whole. And I think I do the same for him.
So if anyone wishes to judge our
relationship... they can just go and do it somewhere far away.
I'm not afraid, then, that I might bore
Seth. But after the conversation I overheard today, I'm afraid that I may be asking
too much of him, expecting him to be faithful to me even though I'm not fulfilling
his sexual needs myself.
Our bed play has gotten ever more
intense over the past few weeks. Still, he's never seen me completely naked,
nor have I seen him. But I've seen and felt and
know
how very much he
wants me, how crazy I can make him with desire. I've seen and felt the salty
layer of sweat on his body, the frantic heartbeat inside his chest, the tension
turning his muscles almost to granite with the self-control he has to impose on
himself in order to stop. To stop after we've made out for hours and we've both
been driven to our limits. To stop after he's brought me to release multiple
times but wouldn't let me return the favor—not until, he says, I'm ready to go
all the way with him.
I realized today with a clarity I
couldn't grasp before that what I'm doing to Seth isn't fair. In fact, it might
be so unfair and bad that it could become a real problem for our relationship.
Oh God, please not that! I can't lose Seth.
Since the night I found the letters and
reconciled with Seth, it's the first time I've been so stressed, so overwhelmed
with uncertainty and fear. It's definitely not a good moment for sleep to steal
in, but after a few weeks with no nightmares, I've forgotten to be wary and so
I don't resist until it's too late.
The blood, Mummy's lifeblood, kept flowing
out and out, whole rivers of it, but now it's slowed down to a trickle. Her
whimpering has gone quiet too, and instead there's this awful wheezing sound
rattling inside her chest.
He turns to me with his red, dripping
knife held in his hand. His face is contorted in what could pass for a smile—if
not for the yawning black soullessness in his eyes. "It's almost finished
now," he tells me. "Want to end it yourself?"
With his eerie smile and his bloody
knife he walks to where I'm lying bound. To where I'm lying drenched in blood
that is not my own. Everything inside me flinches at his approach, but still he
keeps coming.
Then he's right in front of me. "You've
been a very good girl, buttercup, but if you want to live... you'll have to be
even better now."
Quick as a flash, he cuts through the
tape around my legs and hands, and watches me expectantly. I know better than
to move just now.
Satisfaction overlays his face like a noxious
mask. "Very good, buttercup."
He grabs my arm and I let him lead me to
Mummy. My head barely clears his waist. He stops us beside Mummy's torn,
wheezing body and turns to me. Smiles again. Puts his bloody knife in my hand.
"Now, buttercup, a quick, clean
slash across her throat. If you want to live."
"Sunny, baby, wake up! Wake up for
me now, please!"
My eyes fly open and clash with Seth's tormented
gaze. He's very pale and tense, deep lines bracketing his mouth. His hands are
gripping my shaking arms, and he's lifted me almost in a sitting position. His
grip hurts and my throat hurts and my ears are hurting because someone is
screaming nearby, and it's an inhuman cry filled with so much agony it must be
coming straight from hell.
"Stop screaming, Sunny," says Seth,
his voice hoarse. He pulls me to him in a fierce embrace, tries to contain the
shudders quaking through my body. "Please, Sunny, I'm here now. Stop
screaming, baby."
The inhuman cry cuts off abruptly. Oh
God, that was me. Me! And I'm sobbing and sobbing and trying to get away from
Seth because I don't want him to see me like this. But he doesn't let go.
"Sunny, please! I love you, baby,
please let me hold you. Please, Sunny."
Finally I stop fighting his embrace and
melt into his warm, sheltering body. And I take all his love and his comfort even
though I've never been more aware of how much I don't deserve them. I don't
deserve him, I never have, and it was folly, it was completely insane to ever
think otherwise. I have blood on my hands; I don't deserve someone as good as
him in my life.
Eventually, I stop crying. He doesn't
stop holding me.
"Seth, let go of me now." I
feel him flinch. I know how my voice sounded to him: empty and frozen—just like
I feel inside. I've never spoken to him like this before.
The arms binding my body to his withdraw,
and instead he grips my upper arms and gently pushes me from him, enough that
he can see my face. He flinches again, and I look away because I can't bear to
see the pain in his eyes.
"I got into a traffic jam on the
way back—there'd been an accident on the highway—that's why I'm late. I tried
to call you, but I think your phone was off. I'm sorry, Sunny. I'm sorry."
The ice around my tainted heart shakes.
Summer,
you're just an all-around super person, aren't you? Take a strong, fearless man
and make him flinch because of your pain. Make him apologize brokenly because
you're not sane without him. Bring him to his knees and damn him to your
hell—because he loves you.
"It was just a nightmare," I
say, my voice still echoing with emptiness. "It's all right."
"Sunny, please look at me! Please,
baby."
The ice around my ruined heart
splinters. I look up.
"Now tell me you forgive me,
Sunny."
"I'm sorry, Seth, for doing this to
you."
"Forgive me that I wasn't
here."
"And I'm sorry for not being good
enough for you."
"Sunny, I love you more than
life."
The ice around my unworthy heart
shatters. A scalding tear splashes on my cheek. Slowly, hesitantly, I raise my
hands and lay them carefully on his chest. Beneath my right palm, I feel the
thud of his heart. The powerful, dauntless rhythm of his beating heart that
makes order out of chaos and turns weakness to strength inside me.
"Seth, I don't deserve you. But
know that I am yours for life."
His eyes flare brighter than a
supernova, burning me clear to my soul—and what a sweet, delicious burn it is.
I want to soak in it forever. He pulls me to him with more force than he's ever
used on me, and his arms seal around me, locking me to his body. I'm so deeply buried
in him that I hardly know where one of us ends and the other begins.
Midnight finds us still on the sofa,
intertwined with each other, only he's laid down on his back and I'm splayed on
top of him, his arms around me securing me to him. He's playing with the
strands of hair on my back that are within his reach.
"I asked you once," he says
quietly, "and it was like I had flipped a switch: suddenly all light in
your eyes was extinguished. You were so small, all fragile bones and bruised air
of vulnerability, and I couldn't bear the look of you in pain. So I never asked
again. But Sunny... I think you need to tell me now."
"Seth..." My voice is a
pleading whisper.
"Tell me how your parents
died."
"Seth..."
His arms clench around me harder. He's
stopped playing with my hair. "He can't hurt you now, Sunny. You're mine
and you're safe in my arms."
"I know he can't hurt me."
But
you can.
"Why won't you tell me?"
I wet my parched lips. "I don't
want to lose you."
He moves a gentle hand to tip up my
face. His eyes brim with concern and tenderness. "It doesn't matter what
you have to say—you can't lose me over this. You can never lose me. Didn't I
tell you I was yours?"
I nod.
"So trust me. I think you also need
me to hear this."
I do trust him. And I do need him to
know the whole truth about me. I need to entrust him with the worst part of myself
the same as I already have with the best. I need to know that he loves me
regardless.
Please God, don't let him hate me for
what he's about to hear!
I lay my head back on Seth's chest, let
my eyelids drop, and snuggle into his body. In the darkest corners of my mind
still crouches the fear that, on telling him my story, I'll see his eyes fill
with disgust, and I couldn't bear it. So better not to see at all. His arms
around my body urge me even closer to him.
"You know that my birthday is the 15th
of January," I begin quietly. "I was a mid-winter baby, and naming me
Summer
was my parents' little inside joke. They had me late in life
after many years spent trying to conceive. They used to say they chose this
name for me because I came to them in the cold of winter and brought with me
the warmth and joy of summer into their lives.
"My memories from when I was very
young aren't clear, so I don't remember much of my life with my parents. But the
memories of how I lost them—those are vivid." Since those are the memories
that I keep reliving in my worst night terrors... over and over and over again.
"I remember our roomy suburban
house with the white picket fence. I remember how much my parents
loved
me
..."
My voice cracks. I clear my throat and continue in a husky voice: "I
remember that I used to act like a terrible princess, that I was spoiled and stubborn.
Mostly, I remember that my parents are dead... because of me." His embrace
tightens around me, and I draw from his protective strength so that I can keep
talking.
"I... It was the day before my
fifth birthday. I whined and wheedled until Mummy agreed to drive me to the
city so I could pick my own present. We were in this little toy shop, just
looking around, when I noticed a tall, wiry man at the checkout, paying for a
huge teddy bear."
I hear Seth inhale sharply. "Like the
one you used to carry everywhere when you first moved into Grams' home?"
"The very same, actually. I... I
kept it with me so I wouldn't forget, not for a single moment. It was... part
of my
p-penance
." My voice breaks on the word.
"Your penance?" His tone is
very careful.
"I saw that toy, Seth, and didn't
care that someone had already taken it. I shouted: 'I want that teddy!' The man
and the seller both turned to look at me, surprised I think, and Mummy was so,
so embarrassed... She apologized for my rudeness. She asked for another teddy...
but there wasn't another one. There was only the one that the man had bought.
"Oh Seth, and I threw the most
awful tantrum you can imagine. I stamped my feet, I drew on Mummy's coattail, I
cried... I yelled over and over that
I
wanted that teddy, and the man
should let me have it. Mummy tried to quiet me, but there was no stopping me
until I got what I wanted... Which I did, eventually."
"What happened, Sunny?"
Always when he calls me
Sunny
, his
voice somehow softens, fills with warmth and affection. It's the same this time
too... but he has yet to hear the worst of what I've done.
"The man, the customer... He didn't
say a single word the entire time I threw my fit. When I paused in my crying to
get some air into my lungs... he walked up to me and just gave me the bear. 'As
a gift for your daughter,' he told Mummy. She protested that we couldn't accept,
and I pulled on her coattail to stop her from saying that. Because I wanted the
teddy... and that was all that mattered. The man noticed my gesture too and
smiled down at me. 'Really, I insist,' he said. 'Seeing this beautiful little
b-buttercup
"—I
stumble on the word—"has been the highlight of my day.'
"I remember looking at his seemingly
kind smile and thinking that it didn't match the coldness in his eyes. I had
this feeling of... unease. But I didn't know what to make of it, so I ignored
it. And then Mummy and I left the shop and drove home.
"Later, after all the rest happened,
I heard the police say that the man must have followed us when we left the
store. And he came back that night, just after midnight. Right around the time
when I'd been born five years earlier. We were all sleeping. He broke in
through the back and... used chloroform, I think, on my parents. So they wouldn't
awaken while he bound them with tape. Then... he came to my room and woke me
up."