When I was a little boy, I had already accepted that I wasn’t going to be a good man, a righteous man.
Until I was saved. He took me in, taught me.
Made me his second.
The world is not at all what I thought. It isn’t black and white
It is morally grey.
I never thought my heart would beat for more than myself, then I saw her.
Everything has changed.
This girl has come into my life, and even though she didn’t ask me to, I have to save her.
She is the reason my heart is beating again.
I am forever lost in her, and I will die if it means she is free.
More From Lost Duet
He takes a step into me, forcing me to take a step back. He moves again, keeping his eyes on me as he shakes his head. Once again, it forces me to take a step back. My back hits the wall. I am trapped. My heart races as I lift my hand and slap him across the face. Why, I don’t know, but whatever the fuck he wants, I just want him to get it over with and do whatever he is going to do to me.
The slap sound echoes in the bathroom, but he doesn’t say a damn word as he closes the rest of the distance between us. His chest is now against mine. I lift my hand to slap him again, but before my hand can contact his face, he grabs onto my wrist and quickly pins it to the wall next to my head.
I lift my free hand to try to push him back, but he grabs onto my wrist and pins that hand firmly against the wall next to my head. My breathing is unsteady and rapid as I keep my eyes on him.
“Stop trying to hit me,” he grinds out through gritted teeth.
“Then leave!” I scream, feeling my entire body starting to shake against his. His scent is starting to consume me. He smells like freshly fallen rain.
“No,” he whispers, never taking his eyes off me.
“Please,” I scream as the tears escape my eyes and roll down my face. He stands still, his body now firmly against mine, pinning me between him and the wall.
“I am not them, Jennifer,” he states in a low, calm voice. I can hear the pain in his tone. His words repeat over and repeatedly on a never-ending loop.
I am not them, Jennifer. I am not them, Jennifer.
“All men are like them,” I whisper back, barely able to hear myself.
His eyes continue to stay locked on mine. “No, we aren’t,” he says, making my heart sink.
“Men only want one thing, Ethan,” I inform him, allowing more tears to escape my eyes and roll down my face. My father has taught me that men only want one thing, and me, well, I am only good for one thing—to be used and abused. He made sure that I got good at it. He has made sure that I am perfect in his eyes, and I do as I am told.
Ethan takes a deep breath. “I am not leaving, and I am not going to fuck you. I am going to help you,” he whispers.
“No one can help me,” I say, shaky and uncertain, feeling more vulnerable, more exposed. His eyes see right through me, straight to my soul, right to the open wounds that I have been able to hide so well until him. Why? Why him?
“I can if you let me, Hon,” he assures, leaning his face less than an inch away from mine. I feel his breath against my skin, making my heart race for a whole new reason. Now I am the one searching his eyes. There is no anger or rage, only worry and concern, but underneath all of that, I see desire and longing, but it is different than the other men. He is different.
I feel my heart race. Racing because of where I am. Racing because I feel his body against mine. Racing from the nickname he has called me. Racing because I want so fucking badly to be normal. I want so badly for this to be real even after what I have said, even after his having to hold my hair back so I can throw up. He is looking at me like this even after I slapped him and asked him to fuck me or leave. He is calm and not angry.
I lean in and connect my lips to his. I shouldn’t do this. We shouldn’t do this. I shouldn’t want to do this, but I can’t escape how he is making me feel at this moment. I am not an object to be used and abused. I am just a girl, and he is just a guy.
