Garden of Sins

After that, I didn’t talk about it, not a single word. I simply wanted to repress it because I was embarrassed, still am. At the same time, I wanted to do it again because it was the most exciting thing I’ve ever experienced.

But this side of me should not be seen by anyone else because it is yours, Caden, and mine. You brought it to life, so to speak.

And then there was that strange night the day before yesterday in the club during the family visit — and yes, I was blown away. First, I fought with Carter, who I thought was going to kill me, but I kept going because that’s my nature. I find it difficult to keep my mouth shut. Then you started groping me in the booth. Your hands were on my face as Carter slid forward and as you kissed me, I felt Carter’s fingers between my legs.

I know that!

For a brief moment, it was exciting. When you sit between the two of you, it’s like an irresistible dark undertow. However, I only want you, Caden; I have no interest in Carter.

After I came, Carter sat in the corner smoking his cigarette. He didn’t even look in our direction, his gaze directed at a blonde who was making eyes at him.

Am I crazy?

Did I imagine it?

Can the brain really fool one that much?

And what happened yesterday at the pool? This is what gives me pause because I am quite sure I did not imagine your behavior: forcing me to be naked, the hardness in your eyes, your demands, your inflexibility, and using me. It’s not really your style and it took me completely by surprise because I don’t know you that way, but I feel so much for you that I’ll somehow deal with it. Okay, it was strange. Okay, Carter touched me. Okay, my body reacted strongly even though my head was on alert. At least, that’s what I remember. You told me that was not what happened and one side of me trusts you completely and believes you. You always take such good care of me and read every wish in my eyes. Why would you lie to me about this?

I don’t know.

The problem is that you have a strong effect on me. And, if you had told me yesterday to throw myself in front of a moving train, I probably would have done it. That’s what I mean. For some reason, I’m completely under your spell.

And what was that with Carter anyway?

He kissed me. I knew those lips. And, you had sex with me in front of your brother, who kept pushing my pelvis down.

You do that a lot during sex too, don’t you, Caden?

Did I imagine that too? Henry brought the whiskey and Carter kept pouring more shots for me. But when I asked you two about it, you both didn’t know what I was talking about and you looked confused.

Am I going crazy like my mom, who sometimes swears she’s being watched, and repeatedly tells me not to get into cars with strangers, and not to talk to anyone?

Does insanity run in the family?

And during sex under the weeping willow! There you were so unusually uninhibited and suddenly, I believed you were your brother.

But when I spoke to you, you only fucked me harder.

Did you want to punish me with rough sex for saying the name of your brother while you were inside me? I didn’t mean to, I was merely confused.

Or... I don’t dare even think... or, was it your brother? My stomach contracts at the thought. But why? Why would you let that happen? Why would he want that? He’s always so fixated on no one looking at me because I’m with you.

No, it couldn’t have been Carter. You even remembered what you said to me during sex a half-hour before. And I was 100% certain that it was you.

Oh, for God’s sake!

My head hurts.

My phone is vibrating. Yes, I have a smartphone — bought with my first paycheck. It’s a used, ancient model, but it works and I can use all social media.

It’s you and I feel sick. At the same time, my heart is racing. I don’t even know what to feel. Now, with some distance and back in this dirty hole, I just want to go back to you and your strong arms, whether you play mind games with me or not. With you, I feel good, comfortable, and balanced. I love the way you love me. Nevertheless, I still have to let the last days sink in.

Arrived home safely, baby girl?

It’s like I can hear your hoarse, sexy voice as I read the message. I’m still torn about all that has happened, so I’ll answer with a succinct text:

Yes.

You immediately type a reply: And? Why did your mom want you to come home?

I stare at the words and my stomach rumbles a bit more. I knew from the begi

She was only worried because I had not been home for so long.

You immediately respond and remain online. It almost seems as if you are doing it deliberately because you wait for my replies.

Good. Then I’ll send Carter to pick you up. Half-hour. Grab some clothes.

My eyes widen. None of you can come here right now. Neither of you. I’m nervous as I text back.

NO! That is rash, I know, but I can’t stop.

Why not? Don’t you want to see me?

It might seem sweet what you write, but the problem is that since I saw how you acted at the pool, I know you’re not cute even if you are, apart from the tone of the question — so threatening, admonishing, and demanding.

I do! Always! But I can’t right now. A friend of mine, you know Julia, I haven’t seen her in ages, and she’s coming to visit me for a few days!

You’re obviously reading and my heart races when I notice you are writing back.

A few days?

It’s three words, but they almost make me hyperventilate. Why am I always hyperventilating around you? Why am I afraid to lie to you? But I try to answer in a perfectly normal way.

Yeah, she’s having trouble at home. Don’t be mad at me. I’ll call you when she’s gone, okay?

You don’t react for a long time, but you stay online.

It’s not okay, but if you need to be there for a friend, I understand. So call me.

I write okay with a heart smiley face, but you leave the chat.

And I exhale shakily.

God!

I could have told you I needed a couple of days to think. You’re actually always understanding. But, if I’m wrong, it would be embarrassing and I don’t want you to notice and think I’m totally unbalanced.

As I’m about to check my cell phone, I hear my mother’s pounding, angry footsteps coming up the stairs. I jump up and quickly stash my cell phone under the loose floorboards under my carpet. I always hide everything there that she might break or take away if she saw it.

She knocks on my door as I am putting the carpet back in place.

“Ally!” she yells. “OPEN THE DOOR!” She hammers against it and rattles the handle. I know she’s looking for trouble again.

“Let it go, Mom,” I yell. “Please!”

She continues hammering and threatens to kick the door down if I don’t come out now.

I groan and open the door. And, she is fuming.

God. I hate my life. And I hate her. So much.