It's Girl Thing! - Part Three

🔞 18+ | Mature Content
This piece contains sexual content and is intended for adult readers.

“Beep.” My phone flashes. Her name lights my screen…

“You trusted me with your body, please trust me with my truth!”

“How can I trust you when, for the past ten years, you have lied so easily? I know nothing about you!”

“Let me show you.”

“Like you showed me last night? What’s the rate? Or are you gonna show me how many dicks it took to furnish your flat?”

It’s a cheap shot, but the vociferousness of my hurt is relentless, and she should feel it too.

I yearn for her reply, but it doesn’t come. No smart-mouthed remark, no savage attack, no more offers of the sensual touch that I now crave, just silence.

I sit on the stairs and bathe in the memories of her illicit search of the innermost me. Where she unleashed that greedy need of a woman’s touch.

I hear a car door slam in the street, followed by footsteps on the path.

Knock, knock, knock!

SHIT!

Despite myself, a familiar throb begins to beat between my thighs as I stride to the door to answer it.

She doesn’t wait for niceties, she doesn’t wait for me to speak at all.

“I’m not going to apologise for who I am, but you’re right, you deserve an explanation.”

She’s calm, measured.

I open my mouth as if to speak. I want to tell her that she owes me nothing, that I’m by no means perfect.

Her next words catch me off guard. They are a question, but I know she won’t wait for an answer.

I force myself to hear her. I can feel her soul in the room, and she’s going to share.

“Have you ever watched someone so pure and full of life die and wither at the hands of another?

“We had nothing growing up. Mum worked at the launderette and Dad was a mechanic… if he wasn’t too drunk from the night before to go to work.

“Mum would have bruises from time to time, all so easily explained, and back then, people turned a blind eye. If it wasn’t their problem, it wasn’t a problem.

“The first time I saw him hit her, I was nine years old. He’d come home from work, steaming drunk. Mum asked me to put his dinner on the table for him, but I tripped and dropped it.

“He whacked me so hard I thought half my face must still be on his hand. She couldn’t watch, she screamed for him to stop, so he turned on her.

“He threw her into the kitchen door so hard, he lifted her from her feet. She was gasping for air and I was trying to pull him off.

“He kicked his leg out at me and I slammed into the table.

“The last thing I remember was her screaming for him to hit her and not me.

The anguish in her words immobilises me. Each word dripping with regret that she couldn’t help her mother.

“She dealt with it, as long as I was in school and he wasn’t hurting me… she was fine.

“When I was fourteen, she died. They said it was an overdose, but if you believe that, you’d believe anything. She wouldn’t even drink a Lemsip.

“Then it was just me and him. I was his new punch bag. There was never food or electric. Mum’s old friend from the launderette used to do my clothes.

“Mum would’ve died all over again if I hadn’t kept up appearances.

“A week after my sixteenth birthday, he died too. That was it. It was just me!

“I swore I would never depend on anyone for anything. I lied about my age and joined an agency. It was so easy. I had money, I was free!”

She stops for a second, as if giving me the green light to respond, to ask questions, but I’ve got nothing…

“I’ve got everything I ever needed and more. A house, cars, savings. Hell, I could buy you a house. I’ve spent so many years being paid to be something that someone wants, I forgot what I want.

“I thought I was happy… And then there was you.”

That’s me, that’s all I’ve got and who I am…

Take me or leave me!



Sometimes the truth is the most intimate thing you can share.
If you’re in the mood for another story where secrets, desire and keeping up appearances collide…

The Space Between Us. — For the secrets that exist in the moments no one else can see.

Keep reading Shannon’s words →

Thank you for reading.
— Shannon x