I freeze, listening to her and surprised but not surprised, either. I haven’t heard this before.

But my father does awful things.

“I started to cry,” she tells me, “scared and screaming when he kissed me all over and bit my body so hard, and when he pulled down my panties and shoved himself inside me, I…” She breathes hard, still locked on the images in her head. “I liked it, Damon. I liked it.”

I know what she’s talking about. What he was doing to her. I’ve seen it before.

But she was thirteen. Her ballet studio in town had girls who were thirteen. I can’t imagine any of them…

“I liked being ravaged by him,” she continues. “I was a big girl now and he was so much rougher than the men I’d seen taking some of the other dancers when I would peek in the rooms of the theater. This is what men do. They ravage. They’re strong and they ravage, Damon.

She looks down at me, and that’s when I snap out of it and realize her fingertips are trailing down the front of my sleep pants.

“And it’s time you start practicing,” she says.

She reaches inside my pants and takes me in her hand, rubbing it.

I shake my head, squirming as I try to inch away from her.

“Shhh, it’s okay,” she croons, kissing the corner of my mouth and moving her hand faster on me. “Do you feel that, baby? It’s getting hard. That means you like it. You like what Mommy’s doing.”

No, I don’t. She’s not supposed to do that. She’s not…

I still, closing my eyes as it pumps with blood and sticks up straight.

No, no, no, no…. I don’t want this. I want to leave. I want to leave.

“Enjoy it, baby. Just enjoy it.” She leaves little kisses all over my mouth and face as she strokes. “You’re a strong man and strong men get as many women as they want to make them feel good.”

I don’t want…. I don’t want…

I squeeze my eyes shut and let out a groan. No, no, no…

I grabbed the soap from the dish and lathered it up, washing my chest and stomach again before soaping up my cock and getting it clean. Cleaner.

That was the first fucking time my mother ever touched me like that. The first episode of what turned into years of her on me.

My throat swelled with the vomit rising, and my shoulders slumped as I tried to turn inward, making myself as small as possible. It was an old feeling, but one I knew well. It made me hide in the fountain. In the maze. In showers and in closets, because if no one saw me, they wouldn’t see the shame.

She’s gone, I told myself. She’ll never take from me again. No one does.

But looking back over the years, I realized now it started long before that night. She took me into the shower with her long after I was able to take them on my own. She washed me and dried me and stayed in the room when I dressed and undressed.

And after months of doing everything she could with her hands and mouth, she finally came to my room one night and…

I used to brag I had my first woman at twelve, reveling in how other guys either thought I was lying or I was so lucky, because of all the whores my father kept around the house. But I always told the truth.

My father had to know what was going on. In his head, though, it made me a man.

And it wasn’t like he was against raping children, either. Considering how young my mother had been when they met.

I rinsed and shut off the water, grabbing a towel and drying off. I wrapped it around my waist and stepped out of the shower, walking to the mirror and wiping the condensation off.

I stared at my dark eyes, a little darker than hers, and the same black hair. A shadow lay on my jaw, and I picked up my straight razor, running it under the faucet to make sure it was clean.

What did Winter feel when she thought about me? Was the anger so thick that was all there was?

He asked her to dance for him.

He asked her to dance like I’d asked Winter to dance for me.

He watched my mother as I watched Winter.

Was that it then? Did I do to Winter in high school what my father did to my mother? Did I groom her?

I looked up, meeting my own black eyes in the mirror.

The secret of life that everyone knew and everyone forgot was that we weren’t alone. We thought we were unique. We thought we were the first.

No one has been through what I’ve been through.

No one else is feeling this.

No one knows what it’s like to be me.

This is the first time anyone has endured what I’ve endured, right?

They’re lies we tell ourselves, because we think we’re special. Because it would lessen the entitlement to suffer to know what we’re going through is not uncommon. It was a secret I never forgot and was able to use to keep things in perspective, so I could get through the shit in my head, but now...

Now I wished I could forget it. I wanted to be alone.

I didn’t want to know that I was like him or he was like me or that life followed patterns and history repeated itself. I wasn’t him, and Winter wasn’t my mother, and no one has been where we were.

This is special.

It’s different.

It’s unique and all mine.

She and I…we’re alone in the universe. No one was us.

And unlike my mother at thirteen, Winter fucking deserved everything that would happen to her.

I shaved and finished in front of the sink, knowing any doubts I had wouldn’t make me feel any better than being right where I was.

So I would stay the course. My mother was right about one thing. I liked everything when it was hard.

Walking into the bedroom, I spotted Arion right away, sitting on the bed with another girl, but I didn’t slow as I walked to the table with the bowl and dug out my watch.

“Did you bring me something, Arion?” I fastened the watch to my wrist, not looking at either one of them.

She wasn’t supposed to be in here, and she fucking knew it. The master bedroom was split into two rooms, conjoined by a walk-in closet in the middle. She had her space, I had mine. Maybe I’d invite her in one of these nights, but that was my call.

“A present,” she answered. “Just a little one.”

I spared a glance to the bed again, seeing her sitting behind the young, black woman, her arm draped over the girl’s shoulder and both of them looking at me like they were here for my feeding. I couldn’t see what Arion was wearing, but a strap of silk fell down her arm, while her other hand reached around, caressing the girl’s bare stomach.

“How old is she?” I picked up my cigarettes and shook one out.

“However old you want me to be,” I heard the girl answer for Arion.

I lit the cigarette and pinched the bridge of my nose, blowing out smoke. Jesus, fuck. Will would run into that bed, already hard and ready to fuck.

I didn’t like being fed. I needed to hunt.

“Her pussy’s dripping,” Arion cooed. “Young, tight, and hot. So hot.”

My cock started to throb a little, diving into my head and envisioning the feel of her.

“Really tight,” the girl taunted. “My foster daddy used to say I’m tighter than his hand when he would do me.”

Smoke poured out of my mouth as I laughed under my breath. Jesus, honey, you’re barking up a tall tree with that shit. Whatever little taboo story Arion fed you to get me hard is clearly too tame. My version of naughty is off most peoples’ grid.

“Fuck her bare,” Arion said. “Look how wide she spreads.”

Despite the games they played, I couldn’t help but look over. The young woman sat at the edge of the bed, her wide open pussy bare, and her tits peeking out of the bottom of a little half-shirt.

Scenarios popped in my head, instinctively searching for what I needed to make this work.

A threesome. Girl on girl. Tying them up. A gag.

Yeah. A gag.

I took another drag, not taking my eyes off them as the pictures played in my head.

“Fuck her bare,” Arion said again. “Fuck her as hard as you want, and make me watch. When it’s time to come, come inside me.”

And there it was. What she really wanted from me.

Winter

Present

“Where are you taking me tonight?” I asked, leading Isabella and Jade up to my room, so I could finish getting ready.

“It’s a surprise.”

“I’m blind,” I shot back, heading to my closet and running my fingertips over the braille on the markers to find the black shirts. “Broken glass on a floor can be a surprise for me. I’m not game unless you get specific.”

“It’s Halloween-y,” Jade offered.

But Isa hurried to shut her up. “Shhh…”

Great. It was almost Halloween—and worse, Devil’s Night—but my house already felt like a Fear Fest. I wasn’t in the mood.

And I wasn’t sure I’d be allowed to leave.

“You need a girls’ night,” Jade chimed in again. “Especially with that freak show sleeping right down the hall. Let’s have some fun.”

I forced a small laugh, Damon immediately coming to mind, but I knew she meant my sister. All the dancers at the studio I grew up with—including Isabella and Jade—had plenty of Ari’s antics over the years as she waited on me at lessons or sat through recitals and performances.

I sifted through my black clothing, not finding the black, leather pants with zippers down the legs. Where were they? I hadn’t worn them since last winter.

A phone rang, and someone moved on my bed. “I have to take this,” Jade said. “I’ll be in the bathroom.”

I continued searching for my pants, diving into the white, blue, and every other section of clothing.

“So, how are you?” Isabella asked.

I almost turned around, but I was afraid my face would give me away. “I don’t know.”

Damon was here. I caught a whiff of his cigarettes outside when I was working out with Will, but I hadn’t heard anyone leave, so he was probably still in the house.