Midday
“How you feeling, thundercunt?” Tami has been swinging backwards and forwards on that brand-new swivel chair for a good ten minutes now. Rubbing it in my face that it still works. There was an incident at the Christmas party last year that involved a receptionist chair race. The one I had been stuck with suffered the consequence. You see, it’s risky business moving too freely on a swivel chair that only had two of the three wheels still attached. And I’ve become better acquainted with the ground because of it.
“It’s been like a week, I’m fine.” It’s been a slow day. Not many patients. Even less paperwork. I’ve been tasked with refreshing the email folder and forwarding what needed to go where. Printing off the odd set of forms. Directing phone calls. Only, a job seemed to arise once ever half-hour. And it was a war between Tami and I who could lay claim first.
She scoots closer, elbows crossed over the front desk. “I’m
December 21st, 2012 Morning Time is making a mockery of me. The days are slow and long. The nights feel endless. Being shut alone in my bedroom with only questions and theories is enough to make me miss Bertrand. He hasn’t called. Should I? I should just sleep with him. Afterall, what on earth would a man like Damon want with a twenty-one-year-old virgin? Not that I can have those thoughts, let alone justify them by shagging Bert. In any case, the Mesoamerican calendar has reached the doomsday date. The world is set to end. Whether I should sleep with a vagrant who spray-paints parked police vehicles and calls it art is irrelevant if we’re all going to die. And whether my father killed his first son should be, too. But it’s not. I can die happy without coming up with an answer for Bert. Yes, I love you and I will now give you the most immobile sex and worst head of your life or no, ew. But
December 22nd, 2012 Morning My phone buzzing somehow made it into my dream. Speaking of which, I haven’t had one about Damon in quite some time. Probably because every waking moment is filled with him, instead. I was sat at the hospital reception. Only this time, we found a record about Gregory’s death. It was a perfectly mundane genetic disorder I couldn’t pronounce. His death was blameless. I could go back to guiltlessly fantasising about Damon. Then the whole computer started vibrating. And here I am. It's Bertrand. Like I somehow thought the random impulse for him to call me into existence yesterday morning. Part of me wants to let it go to voicemail. Never speak to him again. But part of me loves the drama of it all. “Sasha, finally!” I can hardly hear him through the phone. All I want to do is scour my emails for any noteworthy news heading. We used to show each other up once every fe
Evening “Sasha!” Lily rushes forward with open arms, a thin, short blonde with a warm smile and dazzling blue eyes. James steps sheepishly out of the way. “It’s been so long! Why on earth haven’t you been around?” “Damon’s girlfriend just moved in, we’ve all been getting settled,” The house smells like roast. I didn’t realise just how hungry I was. “That explains why he hasn’t been taking my calls—the toilet runs for hours after you flush it, I’ve been trying to get him around,” She’s got my face between two small, cold hands, her eyes searching mine as though examining my very soul for any ailments. “Mum, let her take her coat off,” I shoot a look at James. I don’t have it in me to tell him I don’t mind. I don’t want to explain that I consider her a mother of my own. It’s nice to be fussed over. And it’s nice that he doesn’t consider that a luxury. James deserves to be smothered most of all of us. He’s had i
His other hand wraps through my hair, though it feels like he’s trying to scalp me. And his lips meet mine like they never have. His teeth wrap around my lip. “Stop it.” I draw back so slightly. “You’re drunk.” It always works in the movies. “And horny,” And his lips are on mine again. He walks me backwards. Another puddle splashes up my leg. And the wind is knocked straight out of me again when I hit a brick wall. Though it very well could be a dumpster. It certainly smells like there is one around here. Maybe it’s just his breath. “Stop it!” I tug and tug at my own wrist. He’s trying to scalp me again. But this time his breath is on my neck. His teeth are tugging at my collar. Great. He’s going to rip my blouse open. I’m going to be defiled in an alleyway and I won’t even have a shirt to put back on. This is humiliation. “You’re hurting me,” I don’t feel quite as scared or angry as I thought I would in this situation—not that I’ve consider
December 23rd, 2012 Evening Sasha “Give me your hands.” I haven’t met his eye. This is the first he’s said to me since he ordered me in the car. I can’t tell if I’m mad at him for it or if I’m mad at myself for the situation. Could very well be both. I stick out my hands a little too obediently. The faucet runs red with blood, though when he holds them beneath the water, I can hardly tell my hands haven’t stopped shaking. I can almost pretend all is well. Almost. “Who was he?” I can feel him staring at me. I’m feeling a little too ashamed to look up. I focus on the sting of water in my cuts. I swear I can see a piece of gravel wash out down the drain. I didn’t think I had fallen that hard. I measure the words. “My ex.” “I didn’t know you had one.” “It wasn’t anything serious.” The silence is deafening when he turns off the water. Only my palms keep me ancho
December 23rd, 2012 Evening I wonder if he can feel me shake as I guide his hand between my legs. And it’s awfully hard not to buck up to greet him as I feel his fingertips brush where I’ve only ever touched myself. But he’s moving like he’s gone through the motions with me a million times before. “Here?” I can feel him burrow between my folds. He’s found my clit even faster than I could. God, how I envy Chloe. I suppose I don’t have to, now. At least, not tonight. And I nod because my words have failed me. “Relax now,” He murmurs into my ear, brushing the hair from my neck. I stare shamelessly at his middle finger as it flicks over my peak. My whole body is on fire. I’m going to be dead by midnight. I swear it, when I speak, I’ve been possessed by some demonic seductress. “Keep talking in my ear.” His hand slips around the front of my neck. I’m powerless but to cover it with my own. “You’re perfect.” His voice
December 24th, 2012 Morning Sleep was dreamless. Completely and utterly dreamless. And I can say that for the first time with complete certainty. Damon fed me over-the-counter sleeping pills after he was done with me. Though ‘done with me’ sounds a little more unceremonious that our encounter had been. It was beautiful. Not a letter short of the word. Loving. Gentle. Caring. And while I assured him until I was blue in the face that (thanks to possibly the most near-fatal orgasm I’ve ever had) Bertrand had never been farther from my mind. Farther. Ha. Father. I slept with mine. Well, he jerked me off. In any case, he thought the sleeping pills would stave off any night terrors about my ordeal. I can’t say with certainty they did. Again, that orgasm very well could have played the part. When I finally have it in me to admit that I’m awake, I roll over. But the bed is empty.
December 25th, 2012 Evening “Merry Christmas,” He must know I’m only pretending to be asleep. I peel back my eyes. I’ve been dreading the day Chloe returns, knowing well it’s the say I must return to my now untouched bedroom. It didn’t take long to grow accustomed to Damon’s mattress. Large, plush, a duvet I’d bet has real down feather… No. A good vegetarian can’t have thoughts like that. He’s holding a long velvet box circled with ribbon which I’m very much liking the look of, I must admit. A box that calibre can only contain jewellery. And he’s got to know how much I love my jewellery. “Merry Christmas to you,” I take it carefully, tugging at the bow. I’m liking the fact there’s no fuss of wrapping paper about it. I was right, jewellery. I smile up at him. Though I do make the conscious effort to subdue my grin a bit. It’s a bit awkward exchanging gifts after ou