Hansel 2(An Erotic Fairy Tale)(20)

I feel her hand on my hair. “Lucas, do you know what time it is?”

“No.”

“It’s three-thirty in the morning.”

“You should be asleep,” I say quietly.

“Who usually comes to get you when it’s not my work hours?”

“The night officer, Mary Jane.” I look at her, unsure about this quiz. Sometimes people quiz me and they want me to get the questions wrong. Like Asshole, earlier tonight, asking me if I knew what I was good for. “Where is Mary Jane?” I ask.

I hope nothing happened to her. She’s old and smells like perfume that stings my nose, but she’s nice enough.

Shelly walks around to the front of my railed bed, in front of some machines pushed into a corner.

“Luke.” She strokes my cheek. “I’m twenty-seven now. I’m getting old.”

My heart hammers. Is she going to die? That’s not old enough to die, is it?

“I’m getting old enough to maybe start a family.”

I feel ill. My rib throbs.

“Are you going to have a baby? Who’s the baby’s dad? You got a boyfriend, Shelly?”

She smiles a little. Shakes her head.

“I thought maybe you might like to come and live with me.”

My head buzzes as she takes my head.

“Remember how I told you it was really important that you didn’t get sent to juvie? Stop hanging around with those tough kids in ninth grade?”

I lock my jaw. If I nod, my eyes will leak.

“Luke, I’ve been trying to adopt you for a few months now. Pretty soon, the papers will be final—if you want.”

I lose the battle. My face is getting really wet.

“It’s not final yet, but you can still go home with me tonight. Are your ribs okay? You feel like getting up?”

I nod, and she helps me up. I throw my arms around her.





CHAPTER TEN

Leah



I’ve got my arm around him, over his bruised ribs. He grabs my hand with his and pulls it a little tighter over his bare back, and I wince. He’s half asleep and I’m not sure that he can feel it.

But maybe he can. Maybe he’s doing it because he wants the pain. Right now, lying by him on the bed, is the first time today I haven’t been in sub mode, or actively trying to break out of it. I’m finding that I hate sub mode. He was right on Monday. I’m not a submissive at all. If anything, I want to be in charge. To give him a satisfying sexual experience that doesn’t involve blood.

I could be creative, if he could just let me try the things I want. Ever since he’s been asleep, I’ve been trying to think of creative ways to hurt him in a way that’s sexual, but not extreme.

Now, with my arm so tight around his back, I wonder what happened to make him this way.

Was he this way at Mother’s house, and he hid it from me?

Was he this way before? For all the many hours we talked, I know almost nothing about his childhood, other than he was in a lot of different foster homes.

I stroke his shoulder lightly, just a tickle, not enough to wake him up, and I let myself ponder one of the things about seeing him again that bothers me the most—and that’s the suspicion I have that maybe he became this way at Mother’s house.

He would leave his room and…

Tears slip down my cheeks.

I couldn’t leave my room, so…it’s not like there was anything I could really do except sing when he knocked.

But still. It feels like my fault.

I knew him there. I even loved him there. I should have protected him…somehow.

I lay back down beside him, and I wonder why loving someone almost always leads to pain.

I guess there’s a price for everything.



*



Lucas



I wake up aching inside, remembering her: not my Leah; Shelly.

I feel Leah’s hand stroking my arm, and I want to throw her off me. Scream at her to stop. I don’t deserve her comfort. I don’t deserve to lie on the same bed with her.

If she knew what I did…

If she knew all the varied tortures of my past…

My stomach lurches, and I breathe in deeply through my nose.

I can’t take her fucking fingers stroking, so I roll over, just slightly out of her reach.

I’m met with her blue eyes. They’re gentle and earnest and kind, everything I know I’ll never deserve.

Why did I bring her here? Why did I think I could treat her like the others, keep it just sex—my kind of sex? I’ve failed at that already.

I’m so fucking weak.

I sit up fully, gritting my teeth against the ache of what I’m pretty sure is a cracked rib.

Leah moves as if she’s going to scramble over to me, probably to touch me again, but I shoot her a stern look, and she sits up on her heels, with her hands on her thighs. She’s still got the mask on.