“I am not cruel! I know cruel and how dare you!”
“How many men are you currently shacking up with?” he asks me. “Forcing them all to live under the same roof so you can pick and choose who you intend to fuck and when.”
“They choose to be there!” I say heatedly.
“No, not really. You are there, so they are. Waiting for time with you. Biding their time until you give them the pussy-go-ahead.”
“I hate you,” I say venomously, crossing my arms, but not having any other come back. Is that how they see it? Is that how everyone, but me, sees it?
Fuck-toys all lined up in a neat little row.
Sebastian’s words come crashing down over me and I cower in shame from this lashing.
“It was never my intention to hurt you,” Frederick says after an interim of just staring at me. “But you wanted to know.”
“No, I didn’t really,” I say stiffly. “But, thank you.”
He scoffs at me. “No problem,” he drawls. “Now, come here.” He opens his arms up to me and I instantly step forward, needing the comfort he is offering to me after tearing strips of metaphorical flesh off me.
“Baby steps,” he laughs as he wraps his arms around me.
I realize then that he played me like the fool he thinks I am.
“Fuck you,” I growl as I push him away.
“Would you?” he asks, taking my hand and placing it on his cock. “I am in need.”
“Go away,” I snarl, scrunching myself up into a corner.
“I could just take you, you know. You aren’t stronger than me anymore,” he says with a wicked glint in his eye.
“You attacked Vito under the assumption that he was going to do the same. I doubt very much you would,” I sniff.
He sighs. “True. Because it’s you. How about a quick suck?” He tries again.
“In your dreams. Now get out.” I step into the shower, slamming the door closed and turn on the jets even though I am still standing in my robe. I am not taking it off until he goes, but I really need to wash away all of the dirt he has thrown on me. My heart feels as raw as my pussy still does and I now have a lot to think about and deal with.
I stand there, alternating between scrubbing and just standing staring at the tiles. Frederick has ripped my heart out with his run-down of me. Is this really what they all think of me? A sex-crazed nympho because I need the affection afterwards? It is kind of harsh in my opinion, but then, what do I know? Nothing, apparently, because I don’t see it that way. I see it that I have so much love to give after being starved of it for so long, why not share it around.
I blink like a slow-witted owl. Starved of it. Starved of love and kindness and affection.
It hits me like one of Drake’s bolts of lightning.
I am an affection junkie because of the people in my life who treated me so badly. How is that even possible after so long? I have had nothing but adoration for decades, longer even, centuries. Yes, Constantine still has his moments of withdrawal, like now, for instance, but he still loves me, and he shows me when he isn’t being a complete arsehole.
“That’s the problem though,” I mutter to the tiles. “Every time you do that, it chips away at any progress I may have made.” I grit my teeth. It’s all his fault and he refuses to take on the responsibility to help me. “I am broken, and you made me that way!” I shout at the mirror as I step out of the shower, now in a fit of rage at my husband. How dare he? Who does he think he is? No wonder I am so fucked up. He was supposed to be my savior, instead he only made things worse.
I grab a towel and furiously dry myself off, still staring at my reflection. “I’ll show you,” I continue this conversation with myself. “I’ll show all of you. Think I am so fucking needy? See how you like it when you don’t get some of this!” I drop the towel and gesture to myself in pride. I know they worship my body. It gives them what they want after all. See how they like being denied.
But you know they will go and find it elsewhere. They don’t have the same issue as you do needing love not just sex.
“Shut up!” I shout at my inner voice.
See, this is why I don't live alone. I end up talking to myself. If that isn’t a sign that something isn’t right, then I don’t know what is. I need to get them all together and talk to them, see if they really feel resentment in being with me the way that they are. No, on their own. That’s better. Starting with Constantine. Everything I just told my bathroom; I need to tell him. I need him to know and if he gets angry or worse, brushes it off, then I know I have to end it once and for all.
That stark realization hurts my heart and I close my eyes shut against the pain. Is this how I decide? Has it come to this after all? Don’t I get to have my cake and eat it too?
I open my eyes again and glare at myself. “No, you fucking well don’t. Clearly,” I add bitterly. Yes, I know my attitude needs a big adjustment if I am truly going to accept this about myself and find a way to move on. But who do I move on with? I love all of them. I need all of them.