Because that’s what she needs, but I never fully understood it.
Not until today. Not until she stabbed me.
Stabbing a person requires enough rage and passion to do the deed up close.
You experience it with your victim. It’s almost intimate. You’re close enough to see the actual pain. Smell the blood and fear that flows out of a person the moment a knife pierces flesh.
Some describe it as erotic.
It’s why I avoid the knife: too personal.
“Edge, wait a minute… my heels.” Dolly breaks my trancelike mindfuck, bringing my attention back to this beautiful day and the fact that I’m dragging her with me. Her small ankles that I can span in my hand are shaking in her five-inch heels.
She never goes out without at least a four-inch heel. Yet another reminder that she wants to be someone else. That used to enrage me. Now…
They’re just wounds.
Wounds that never healed. Dolly and I are direct products of our environment. Two kids who grew into adults and, so far, seem to be repeating the cycle.
Neither of us is perfect. Both have hurt each other unnecessarily. But this… this incident has cut through all the gray areas. The clouded murky shit that we couldn’t seem to swim our way out of.
She sliced our way to the top. It’s done.
I’m done.
For better or worse, the past is not my enemy. My shame and guilt are gone. The Disciples have been her enemy. A constant competition that she felt compelled to win. But I’m not her father. Dolly needs to open her eyes and let go.
I should have known this morning was gonna be shit. All the signs were there. Fucking Derrick with his annoying texts waking me up at 6:00 a.m. Dolly, not in our bed because she had an early client who flew in from New York. So, instead of fucking her warm pussy I had my cock in my hand jerking off to her vanilla scent as she showered in the bathroom.
“Edge, slow down.” She jerks back, forcing my focus back on her rather than the bullshit she pulled earlier.
Her stupid neighbors are sunbathing in the corner listening to Bob Marley. Which sucks. Not Bob Marley, but the fact that we have to walk past them.
“Hey, you two.” One of the dingbat girlfriends sits up and waves at us.
“Holy shit. are you okay?” Ryan the guy who lives next door to Dolly puts a hand up to shield his eyes as he looks at us.
“Yes,” I growl as I pull Dolly past them.
“Dude, I mean wow.” He stands to follow us. His board shorts have pink flowers on them.
I roll my neck, trying to have the patience not to push him off the railing. “Keys now, Dolly.”
She raises her hands as if that should stop him. “Hey Ryan, we were in a little car accident, but we’re fine.” Her voice is loud and phony making it obvious we weren’t in any accident, but Ryan’s a moron so she might have pulled it off.
“Good talking.” I nod at the shocked group, pull Dolly into the apartment, and slam the door.
“It’s time to move.” I run my hands through my hair letting my eyes adjust to her dark place. In our rush this morning, we forgot to open the blackout curtains.
“Stop it. They’re harmless.” She sighs as she drops her bag on the counter.
“We need to get you cleaned up.” She looks at me, and for a second, time stops. We’re alone now… and covered with my blood.
“Are you feeling okay?” She cocks her head at me as I move toward her.
“Why wouldn’t I be okay?”
She takes a step back. “I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
Her eyes widen as she blinks. “For sta… hurting you.” She puffs out air and I’m so close to her, it caresses my face. Reaching down, I lift her chin, my thumb rubbing her cheek.
“You didn’t hurt me. Try again.”
“What?” She swallows, her pulse beating rapidly in her neck.
“I’m not hurt.” I take her hand and place it on my cock.
“Oh God,” she whispers.
“So, tell me, Dolly.” I force her hand to rub my erection. “Are you really sorry? Or are you happy you finally made me bleed?”
As she tries to pull away, her breathing becomes harsh.
“I was upset. I thought you were fucking Crystal. I—” Her back hits the wall.
“But I wasn’t. You didn’t even think to look around, did you?” I dip my head still making her hand rub my dick as my lips brush hers.
“Did you?” I demand.
She jumps. “No. All I saw was you. With… your shirt off. The bartender said you were fucking Crystal.”
“The bartender? A fucking nobody says that and you walk in with your knife in your hand? Like a goddamn horror movie?”
She tries to lean into my chest to cover her face. “I don’t know what happened, Edge. I heard him, and then”—she swallows—“I stabbed you.”