Asa left with his friend Jon while I was in the shower yesterday, getting ready for him to take me out for the first time in over five months. Despite the fact that neither of them were home, the house was still full of people. I stayed up worried about him until I couldn't keep my eyes open anymore. When he finally crawled in bed, then proceeded to crawl on top of me, I was so pissed I just started crying.He didn't even notice. Or he didn't care.
I cried the entire time he was on top of me, fucking me like he didn't give a shit who was under him, as long as someone was under him. When he finished, he rolled over and fell asleep without a single word. Not an apology. Not a thank you. Not an I love you. He just rolled over and fell right to sleep without a single thing on his conscience. I rolled over and continued to cry.
I cried for the fact that I allow him to do what he does to me. I cried for the fact that I feel like I have no other choice. I cried for the fact that I'm still with him, despite the person he's become. I cried for the fact that I have no way out, no matter how much I want to leave. I cried for the fact that despite everything horrible about Asa, I was still worried sick when he didn't come home. I cried because I realized that no matter who he's become, a part of me is still in love with him...because I don't know how not to be.
I turn away from my reflection because I'm ashamed of who I've become.
***
Carter is already seated at our table when I walk into Spanish class. I can see him watching me out of the corner of my eye, but I refuse to look at him.
After spending the hour with him in class the other day, I think it's safe to say I developed a slight crush. The thought of getting to spend time with him three days a week had me giddy; a feeling that had become all too foreign to me. But seeing him in my house, with Asa of all people, crushed any fantasies I may have had. I never intended for anything to happen with Carter. How could it have? There's no way I can get out of the situation I'm in with Asa, and I'm not a cheater. I was simply looking forward to having a crush. Looking forward to flirting a little bit. Looking forward to feeling desirable.
Knowing now that Carter is more like Asa than I could have imagined, I don't want any part of it. Any part of him. The fact that he's now another constant fixture at our house makes him even more hands off. If Asa even had a suspicion that another guy was speaking to me, that guy would be dead. I'd like to say that isn't a literal statement, but it is. Seeing as how he doesn't seem to have a conscience, I one hundred percent believe that Asa is capable of murder.
Which is exactly the reason I'm not putting Carter in that situation. I keep telling myself that Carter is just another Asa, in different clothing. Not worth the risk. I treat this situation with Carter exactly as it is: another roadblock to my eventual escape.
I glance around the room for a vacant seat that isn't next to his. I must have spent too much time in the restroom, because the class is almost full. There are two seats on the second to top row that are empty, but they're directly in front of the seat Carter is occupying. I avoid his gaze and walk to the empty seats with my head tucked down. I don't know if I can pull off pretending I didn't notice him, but I'm sure as hell going to try.
I take one of the seats and sit down, then pull my books out and place them on the table in front of me. I hear a sudden commotion coming from the top row and can't help but turn around. Carter is scooting across the table behind me with his backpack in hand. He hops off the table and pulls the empty chair out next to me, then plops down into it.
"What's this all about?" he asks, twisting in his chair to face me.
"What's what all about?" I ask, opening the text to where we left off on Monday.
I can feel him staring at me, but he doesn't say anything. I continue to pretend-read, and he continues to silently stare at me until I can't take it anymore. I turn to face him.
"What?" I ask, irritated. "What do you want?"
He still doesn't say anything. I slam my book shut and turn my body toward his. The fact that our knees are pressed together doesn't go unnoticed. He glances down at our legs and I can see a hint of a grin playing in the corner of his mouth.
"Well," he says. "I sort of liked sitting by you the other day, so I thought I'd do it again. I take it that's not what you want, so..."
He begins to gather his books and a huge part of me wants to rip them from his hands and make him stay here, right where he is. But an even bigger part of me is relieved that he's taking the hint.
He shoves his notebook in his backpack and I keep quiet. If I say anything, I know it'll be nothing but a pathetic plea for him to stay put.