feelings of being cherished, cared for. But that isn’t Derek. That isn’t how he works. God, why can’t I remember? I want those memories back. I need those memories.
I eventually give up on my brain and quickly pull my hair back to join Liz for lunch. As we enter the common room, my housemates are gathered around the table watching me warily as always. But after the night before, even the distant and cold treatment of my housemates seems warm, and I want nothing but to join them. I take my place next to Liz, and, as I expected, they regard me coolly. It is the treatment I’ve gotten used to since the incident with Shelby. Since that time, it has become difficult to convince any of them that Derek doesn’t regard me in some way different from them, and doesn’t he? Mr. Grayson said as much himself, and wasn’t it the reason for his torture? It hasn’t escaped anyone’s attention that Derek has continued to spend his time with only me, and I’ve been thankful for that more than I care to admit. The idea of him touching one of the other girls is painful and sends stabs of jealousy through my body. However hazy my mind is today, I remember the feeling of his touch, the strokes, and the comfort, so completely new to me but so incredibly needed. And I’m jealously protective of this.
While I’m sitting at the dining room table having coffee with the others, the conversation turns, as it often does, to Mr. Pennington. The leading questions that always seem to move quickly to how often I see him are a daily barrage that I have to put up with if I have any hope of getting my daily caffeine intake. On this day, however, the questions take a most decadently negative turn when Veronica announces she’s spending the evening with Mr. Pennington. My breath hitches audibly and loudly, and I have to fight for my next one. All eyes suddenly snap to mine, and mine are overly wide in shock and devastation. I give a slightly awkward and completely contrived smile as I stand to leave, with Liz following close behind me.
I’m shaking as I reach my room, and she puts a gentle hand on my back as I enter my room in just enough time to collapse in hitching sobs on my bed.
She sits with me for a long time, stroking my hair and shushing me like a baby. Her concern is real, and as my crying subsides, she speaks. “It’s not a good idea to care in this place, Ash. It usually ends badly.” I nod numbly at the truth of her words before she continues. “Are you in love him?”
I shake my head in confusion, and as my face scrunches in pain, I open up to her. “No. I don’t know.”
She asks me more questions, and I talk to her. I’m not afraid in the least that anything I tell her will be used to hurt or betray me, and so when she asks about the specifics of our time together, I tell her. I tell her every last detail of the day before and every last detail of Derek’s and my time together. Her eyebrows raise on more than one occasion as I discuss the ways in which we have sex, his rule breaking, his behavior after he watched me touching myself and crying out for him, even his comforting touch at Mr. Grayson’s mansion, and the cloudy, but very real memories of his touch the night before. Every last detail is shared in the graphic way that is only appropriate in a place such as this.
I can tell by the expression on her face she’s shocked by most of what I tell her, and as I finish talking, I add one final admission. “I’m just an idiot. I don’t know what I was thinking, letting myself think he cares. He’s not allowed to care.”
My sobs are coming easily through my words, and my head is shaking in painful exasperation. I must be a truly pathetic sight, and I hate myself for my weakness.
But Liz is quick to comfort, and she talks long and forcefully while holding my hands tightly, and imploring me desperately to listen. I do listen, crying quietly. “I’ve never seen him this way with anyone, Ashton. I mean, my God,
I eventually give up on my brain and quickly pull my hair back to join Liz for lunch. As we enter the common room, my housemates are gathered around the table watching me warily as always. But after the night before, even the distant and cold treatment of my housemates seems warm, and I want nothing but to join them. I take my place next to Liz, and, as I expected, they regard me coolly. It is the treatment I’ve gotten used to since the incident with Shelby. Since that time, it has become difficult to convince any of them that Derek doesn’t regard me in some way different from them, and doesn’t he? Mr. Grayson said as much himself, and wasn’t it the reason for his torture? It hasn’t escaped anyone’s attention that Derek has continued to spend his time with only me, and I’ve been thankful for that more than I care to admit. The idea of him touching one of the other girls is painful and sends stabs of jealousy through my body. However hazy my mind is today, I remember the feeling of his touch, the strokes, and the comfort, so completely new to me but so incredibly needed. And I’m jealously protective of this.
While I’m sitting at the dining room table having coffee with the others, the conversation turns, as it often does, to Mr. Pennington. The leading questions that always seem to move quickly to how often I see him are a daily barrage that I have to put up with if I have any hope of getting my daily caffeine intake. On this day, however, the questions take a most decadently negative turn when Veronica announces she’s spending the evening with Mr. Pennington. My breath hitches audibly and loudly, and I have to fight for my next one. All eyes suddenly snap to mine, and mine are overly wide in shock and devastation. I give a slightly awkward and completely contrived smile as I stand to leave, with Liz following close behind me.
I’m shaking as I reach my room, and she puts a gentle hand on my back as I enter my room in just enough time to collapse in hitching sobs on my bed.
She sits with me for a long time, stroking my hair and shushing me like a baby. Her concern is real, and as my crying subsides, she speaks. “It’s not a good idea to care in this place, Ash. It usually ends badly.” I nod numbly at the truth of her words before she continues. “Are you in love him?”
I shake my head in confusion, and as my face scrunches in pain, I open up to her. “No. I don’t know.”
She asks me more questions, and I talk to her. I’m not afraid in the least that anything I tell her will be used to hurt or betray me, and so when she asks about the specifics of our time together, I tell her. I tell her every last detail of the day before and every last detail of Derek’s and my time together. Her eyebrows raise on more than one occasion as I discuss the ways in which we have sex, his rule breaking, his behavior after he watched me touching myself and crying out for him, even his comforting touch at Mr. Grayson’s mansion, and the cloudy, but very real memories of his touch the night before. Every last detail is shared in the graphic way that is only appropriate in a place such as this.
I can tell by the expression on her face she’s shocked by most of what I tell her, and as I finish talking, I add one final admission. “I’m just an idiot. I don’t know what I was thinking, letting myself think he cares. He’s not allowed to care.”
My sobs are coming easily through my words, and my head is shaking in painful exasperation. I must be a truly pathetic sight, and I hate myself for my weakness.
But Liz is quick to comfort, and she talks long and forcefully while holding my hands tightly, and imploring me desperately to listen. I do listen, crying quietly. “I’ve never seen him this way with anyone, Ashton. I mean, my God,
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