Credence

“Take me to bed,” I beg.

He thrusts again as I reach behind and hold onto his neck.

“Take me to bed and give me that kiss goodnight.”

“Yeah,” he grunts, dry-fucking me against the sink.

My head swims behind my closed eyes, and I’m too high to think or care about anything except making this last forever.

He covers my mouth again, and I take his hand and guide it down inside my panties.

But he suddenly tears his mouth away and pulls his hands off me. “Fuck, stop.” He backs away, breathing hard as the chill suddenly hits my skin. “No. No, we can’t.”

I shudder, the ache of need nearly making my knees give out. Tears spring to my eyes.

“This isn’t happening,” he growls. “I’m your uncle. I’m your fucking uncle.”

“You were never my uncle,” I grit out, spinning around. “You’re a no-relation stranger my parents sent me to live with.”

His face is flushed, like mine I’m sure, and sweat glistens on his tanned temples.

“You’re my responsibility,” he tells me.

“But it felt good.”

Pain hits his eyes, and I know he felt it, too. “It felt good tonight,” he says, “but it’ll feel like shit in the morning.”

I shake my head, not caring. I don’t care.

“I’m lonely and an emotionally stunted child, and you’re the first woman I’ve been around long enough to get connected to in the past twenty years.” He stands up straight, running a hand through his hair. “And you’re just a neglected orphan, desperate for attention. That’s all this is.”

“Desperate…” I stare at him, my face cracking.

No.

I’m not desperate. I’ve had opportunities, but I never wanted it. Until now. I chose this.

But he looks at me hard. “You scream at night,” he says. “In your sleep. You never talk about them. You’re running from that life as fast as you can, and I won’t be your gateway drug. I’ll hate myself.”

I chew on my lip. He hears me at night?

“This is acting out.”

“It’s not.” I shake my head, hearing a door slam shut upstairs.

He inches close again, speaking low. “You threw away your candy,” he says. “You don’t accept Noah’s invitations to the track when he goes to practice. You don’t engage Kaleb when he’s fighting you. You still barely join us for meals or in front of the TV at night.”

I drop my eyes and clench my teeth, overwhelmed. Why is he doing this? Everything felt so good a minute ago.

“You don’t laugh or play or want anyone or have passion for anything,” he goes on. “You have no hobbies, no interests, no boyfriends at home… Ever, am I right?”

I look away, but he comes in and cups my face. I jerk away, but he holds tight, and I can’t stop it from spilling over. Tears starts to stream.

“You never smile,” he says quietly as the music and noise rage in the faraway recesses of the house. “You never feel joy. No dreams for the future. No plans. You have no fight in you. You’re barely alive, Tiernan.”

I struggle for air, sobbing as he holds me.

“It wasn’t always like that, though, was it?” he asks but doesn’t wait for me to answer. “It couldn’t have been. You must’ve loved things. Wanted things. Things that made you happy.”