Getting It Twisted (Unforgivable Needs #1)

15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15

Nathan

I wake up to the familiar hit-by-a-truck feeling of a wicked hangover. I groan and roll over, but I’m not in my mother’s bed; I’m in my own tiny one, and as a result, I slide off the mattress and into thin air. The pathetic thud of my limbs hitting the floor echoes through the emptiness of the house.

Right. Empty.

Daniel’s gone.

He left me.

As soon as my thoughts start spinning, the pain I’ve done my damnedest to avoid comes rushing back. I groan and roll onto my stomach, pressing my aching forehead to the floor.

Of course Daniel had to go snooping. I should’ve known. It was only a matter of time before his savior complex got the better of him and, in turn, only a matter of time before he found out the true extent of how fucked up I am.

I didn’t know where my mom stashed those photos, but I had my suspicions about her bedroom. Most of the pics no doubt ended up on the dark web, but for some fucked-up reason, she saved some physical copies. Why? Hell if I know.

When the time came, she and her boyfriend would give me some pills that made me sleepy. Otherwise, I would’ve put up a good fight. One time when I was seven or eight, I pissed them off so bad I had to flee into the woods and live there for days, in fear they’d kill me if I went back.

As the years went on, I grew older, stronger, and more defiant. Mom realized I wouldn’t put up with her bullshit any longer, and as her beauty faded and her clients dwindled, her alcohol consumption shot through the roof.

Her stash came in handy last night. Half a bottle of Jack took the edge off my grief yesterday, but now it’s coming back in a rage, worse than ever. Maybe I should drink the rest of the bottle to keep it at bay. Maybe I should become a drunk like her.

But that’s a temporary solution. Sooner or later, I’ll be sober and miserable again.

I need something permanent.

I try to move, but my head spins so bad I feel sick, and my limbs feel like I’m crawling through mud. Why should I get up anyway? Why should I get up, ever, if not to fetch my grandpa’s shotgun and put an end to my misery for good?

That’s a permanent solution if I’ve ever known one. But I’m not one to commit to permanence; I flit this way and that, like an unrestful moth in search of a light to burn me. Daniel kept me grounded for a while, sure, but it’s no surprise that I can never hold on to anything good in my life.

I let out a pitiful whine. I’m such an idiot. I deserve to be out here, alone. I deserve to wallow in this house where I endured so much pain. With Daniel, things could’ve been different. Things were different with his help. The darkness in him merged with the darkness in me and became something else—something brighter. Just like when we were kids. In the years I was away from him, shit wasn’t so good, but because of him—because of us—it was starting to get better.

I should’ve known all along it was a futile attempt. Sooner or later, people sniff out the darkness I have in me. For all that I trick and deceive, I cannot hide my true nature forever.

Back when we were teens, Daniel was the only one who got close to me without expecting my body in return, despite how he wanted me. Because of course I knew he wanted me. I noticed his lingering looks and the clench of his jaw when I looked at him. I wanted him too, but I couldn’t let myself have him. Instead, I went for mean-looking guys who held me down and fucked me like they hated me, hissing slurs in my ear. Guys who’d push me into the school lockers and call me a faggot after they’d just fucked my throat.

Unlike them, Daniel was kind. But I didn’t want kind; I wanted pain. So after the graduation party, I freaked the fuck out. Not only had he now proven he was just like the rest of them—by taking advantage of me when I was all but defenseless—I could not give him what he wanted. I couldn’t handle his love, twisted as I was. Twisted as we had become.

It took a long time to push all those memories to the back of my mind, to suppress them all like I’m so good at doing. Every day, I wanted to come back to him, but I couldn’t. Not for many years.

When I finally returned, I got it in black and white that he hated me enough to treat me the way I wanted. The fury and hurt in his eyes held all the fire I needed. No friendship, no love. Only hatred.

Hatred is the purest emotion, and when channeled into sex, it overrides everything. It takes me off and away, to a place where nothing matters but pleasure, pain, and getting pounded into oblivion.

But that’s not how things turned out. Daniel had every reason to hate me for the way I hurt him and left him, but instead of hating me, he once again proved his kindness, where no one has ever been kind to me before.

It pushed me off-balance. It made me let my guard down and develop these feelings I never planned, wanted, or asked for. It’s all his fault. He forced them out of me.

My eyes burn, and I shut them as my hands claw at the floor, fingers curling into tight fists.

No . . . it’s my fault for going after him in the first place. Or at least, it’s my fault for not keeping our relationship the no-strings-attached hate-fucking it should have been.

This is what happens when you open up to someone: It might feel good for a while, but the initial relief is always followed by pain and regret.

I should have known. No one in this world can stand me for very long. Daniel had a good run at it, but when push comes to shove, I’m too fucked up for even him to handle. Too twisted and tainted by my past, by what happened in this house and the fucked-up shit I do to deal with it.

And if Daniel can’t stand me, who will?

George is right about me; I’m an asshole, and there’s no hope I’ll ever change. It’s apparent in how I treat people and in how I treat myself. I don’t blame Daniel for the disgust in his face when he looked through those pictures, and I don’t blame him for leaving. After all, what do I have to offer?

I have my looks, but looks fade. I have my tight ass and cock-hungry mouth. But beneath all that, there’s a dark hole in me that nothing and no one can fill.

And Daniel . . . Daniel deserves more than my darkness. He should be free, away from my shackles holding him down. He should find someone without a dark hole in them, someone who won’t weigh him down and cling to him like a leech.

Alongside the nausea welling up my throat, tears spring to my eyes. It’s not just his perfect, girthy cock that hit me in all the right places that I’m grieving. It’s more than that.

It’s his smile in the sunlight. It’s the amused, fond tilt of his mouth, reserved only for me. It’s the timbre of his voice, the strength of his arms, and the warmth of his body wrapped safely around mine.

Now I’ll never experience that again.

I let out a single, heaving sob before wiping my eyes with my forearm, harsh enough to hurt. One thing’s for sure: I was a lot less pathetic when I was alone and needed no one. Well, that’s not exactly true, but at least I needed people for one purpose only.

It’s time for me to need no one again.

I better go someplace where there’re people who won’t try to fix what can’t be fixed. People who can shut me up and treat me like I deserve to be treated. Turn my thoughts off and reduce me to the barest, basest sense of who I am.

There’s a hole in me, and someone’s gotta fill it.