Page 66 of Payback
"Do I ever get a break this month?" I asked instead.
"No."
"Come on, even you must be a little tired!" I snapped. "Three days of non-stop sex takes its toll on people."
He laughed and nodded. "Usually people who haven't wanted revenge since they were kids."
"So revenge turns you on?"
"Did you think it was you?" he retorted, a sharp pang hitting my chest. I wasn't used to being told I wasn't attractive, and hearing it from Jared felt like a slap.
"Are we done?" I asked.
"The game never ends between us," he said before withdrawing and leaving me on the bed.
I placed my hands over my face, shaking my head slightly as he went to clean up. I couldn't wait for this torment to be over.
Chapter 34
-Jared-
I observed Alison as she moved around my dining room, tidying it up. This time, she wore a more modest maid outfit since I had ruined the previous one. After our roleplaying session yesterday, I intentionally refrained from touching her. I wanted her to continually relive the moment when she fully surrendered herself to me. I could sense her irritation growing, even detecting subtle bodily reactions as she recollected the events. While she might insist it was all part of the roleplaying, no one could sustain such a high level of acting, not even Alison. Her utterance of the words “I love you” in the midst of her pleasure had caught me off guard. I had instructed her to reveal her feelings, but the sincerity behind her words, spoken as she trembled and climaxed, was unexpectedly powerful. The intensity surprised me, though it didn’t diminish the enjoyment. My task now was to coax her into saying it repeatedly until she herself believed the words. The idea struck me as amusing. Perhaps I did desire her love, not because I sought to reciprocate it, but because what was more formidable than love? Hate came close, yet love was a complex duality. Unlike hate, which often motivated only harmful actions, love could drive both benevolence and malevolence. People could go to extraordinary lengths for their beloved. Yet, when love remained unrequited, it could incite a powerful madness that even hate couldn’t inspire. Maybe I should target her love rather than merely her obsession. Such an outcome might prove even more gratifying. I had previously asserted to her that I wasn’t the one falling for my own game. I would never love her. My feelings toward her were firmly rooted in intense hatred. No other feeling would ever take hold.
“Is it up to your standards, Master?” she asked, turning to me and motioning toward the entire dining table. I had tasked her with cleaning and polishing it until it gleamed, nearly looking brand new.
“It is,” I replied.
“So, can I proceed to the next room?”
“I didn’t declare this room finished,” I corrected her. “Now the lamps require dusting, and the chairs need a thorough cleaning. Afterward, you should vacuum and scrub the floor.”
The dining room was seldom used, and it didn’t require a deep cleaning, but that was precisely what made this situation enjoyable. I derived satisfaction from knowing that none of this cleaning was essential, and I was forcing her to do it solely because I could and desired to. Alison shot me an intense glare, but I merely met her gaze with eyes that communicated that she was welcome to attempt to challenge me, yet it would be a futile fight.
“Very well, I’ll proceed then,” she said, moving from chair to chair, wiping them down.
The chairs served a purely decorative purpose. I never invited anyone over. In fact, I doubted I had ever extended such an invitation to anyone. I had lived with a cruel person in a cave that wasn’t worth showcasing to anyone, and later on, I found myself incapable of forming friendships. My life hadn’t transformed into something pleasant. It had become tolerable. I managed to exist without succumbing to pain. Those years spent living with my father had been an absolute nightmare.
I wipe my hand under my nose, watching the blood continue to flow. It just won’t stop. As if my day at school hadn’t already been bad, as it always was, my father was even meaner today. I came home and was immediately yelled at for arriving late, although I wasn’t late. His drunken mind couldn’t accurately perceive the time. He had hit me because of it before storming out of the door, probably searching for the nearest bar, as he likely had no more alcohol at home. I wasn’t sure why the bars still let him in, but there was nothing I could do to stop him.
I went to my room to hide, knowing there was no escaping him. He did whatever he pleased with me, and I had nowhere else to go. I wasn’t of legal age yet, and even when I was, I’d have no money. Where would I go? I needed an education. I needed a way to truly escape the devil himself, but I knew the only way to do that was to wait until graduation.
I leaned my head back again, hoping it would stem the flow, yet it felt like I was choking on my own blood. I wasn’t even sure how long I’d been sitting there. I was about to stand up to get more tissue paper when I heard it: the door slammed shut. I could often sense it in the air, knowing what mood my father was in. I was the son who had driven away my own mother, and since she wasn’t here to satisfy him, and no one would even approach him, it left one person. It left only one person he could turn to.
I quickly reached for the knife beneath my pillow, gripping it and thinking that tonight, I would do it. I would plunge it into his heart. I would kill him and exact revenge for all the things he had put me through. I listened to the stumbling in the hallway, then I watched the doorknob turn. He had broken the lock a long time ago, and when I tried to have it fixed, he broke it again. My hand tightened around the knife as the door creaked open, and light streamed into my bedroom. It was exactly like in a horror movie: the dark shadow standing illuminated by the light. The stench of alcohol surrounded him so much that it even permeated the room.
“You’re drunk. Just go to sleep,” I tried, my hand gripping the knife so hard. Sometimes it worked. Sometimes I could convince him that sleep was what he needed, but there was a determination in his steps as he approached me that told me tonight was not such a night. My hand was shaking as I held the knife, but as he stood in front of me, slightly unsteady, my grip loosened. I tried to muster the will to grab it again. I wanted to kill him, so why was I hesitating? I had the opportunity. A voice urged me on, yet all strength left my body as fear overtook me.
My father slapped me across the face, sending me to the side. And when he saw my weakened state, he saw an opportunity. Pushing me forward, he had me face down on the bed. My pants were roughly removed, and I listened to the sound of his belt being unbuckled next. I retreated deep inside myself, seeking the sanctuary I knew. There, he couldn’t touch me. However, sometimes there was something even better than my sanctuary. As I lifted my eyes slightly, I saw a picture I had hung on the wall: a drawing of Alison. The intense anger returned, and I held onto it as the painful intrusion began, and the creaking of my bed and his grunts filled the room.
“Master?”
I shook my head, turning slightly to see Alison holding a mop in her hand. Everything around me appeared different. The place was as spotless as ever, yet I felt confused. I couldn’t even recall telling her where to find the cleaning supplies, or hearing the vacuum start. How long had I been lost in thought? I glanced down at the glass I had been holding. The ice cubes had melted long ago, leaving only condensation on the sides, indicating its still cool temperature. I slowly released it, noticing the white color of my palm from pressing so hard against the glass that I had hindered blood flow.
“Master?” Alison called once more.
I turned to her, observing the puzzled expression on her face as she studied me.
“Is there something else I should do now?” she asked.
