It’s anger at a world that can be so cruel.
I became an anesthesiologist for the money, to pull myself out of the shithole I was born into. But there was a time when a little boy dreamed of helping people. Of taking his parents’ cruelty and replacing it with something kinder.
A better world.
A safer world.
I cannot pinpoint the moment in time when I lost that drive, but it no longer burns inside of me. Not for me. Not for anyone I know.
But for this random woman who lives in poverty, who cannot afford –either financially, mentally or emotionally– a couple of nice things… For her it burns.
Frowning, I walk over to her bed and pick up her bra. On the ride over, I thought to pleasure myself in her room. To look at her picture as I did so perhaps. But standing here is too damn depressing.
So I go to take my leave, though I stop first at her dresser. I think about taking one of these books that are so special to her, but a person’s treasures should never be taken without permission. In truth, I shouldn’t even have touched them.
It doesn’t matter that they are mere books to me, something easily replaced. They mean a lot to her, and so I leave them. I’ll find my own copies.
I walk towards her front door. A few short paces and I’m there. I think about my own house, about how much longer it takes to get anywhere. Would she be impressed?
Or would she think it too ostentatious? A little boy trying too hard to prove that he’s better than where he came?
Five
The following morning, I pull into the parking lot of Evertree Hospital a little later than usual. I spent all of yesterday evening and a good portion of the night shopping and reading one of the books on Summer’s dresser. I’m a third of the way through it, and I have been trying to put the pieces together about why she likes it.
The male main character owns the bakery that the female lead stops at every Monday morning. She purchases two glazed donuts as a reward for herself for getting out of bed and going to work. She has a job she loves but a boss she hates as he keeps harassing her. He’s not yet assaulted her, but it’s clearly building up to that. The looks he gives her, the words he says, the way he corners her in rooms alone – it reminds me too much of my own childhood.
Of the men Mother would bring home.
Her ‘friends.’
Her dealers.
Her desperate bangs for coke.
And when they got tired of using her dirty, loose hole –
They’d find me in my room.
My lips tighten as I step out of my car. The crisp morning air turns into the haggard, overly clean smell of the hospital. I want to head straight up to the ICU and bury my memories in the sweet smell of Summer’s pussy. What she never learns of cannot hurt her. It’s why I got pass-out drunk every night mother’s friends were over. They got what they wanted. She got what she wanted.
And I got what I wanted.
A way to survive.
But I will not hurt her like they hurt me. I will make sure she isn’t bleeding when I’m done with her. That she will not wake up in pain.
It’s why I put her in a coma. I am taking care of her. I am not bad like them.
Stepping into the elevator, I make my way up to the staff’s changing room. I push my thoughts away from my own life and focus them back on hers.
In the book, the main male character, the baker, jacks off onto her donut every morning. He puts it aside specially for her, and she thanks him for it, not knowing it’s glazed with his cum. He watches her eat it, and he gets hard behind the counter. Recently, he’s started thrusting his dick through her donut’s hole while being careful not to destroy it.
On his days off, he stalks her or plays with an aphrodisiac recipe he’s been perfecting for the past six months, ever since he first saw her. He lives with two roommates who are siblings, and he’s been secretly testing it on them. Once he can get them to fuck, that’s when he’ll call it done and slip some onto her donut. Then he’ll follow her to her car…
So is that what Summer likes about the book?
Does she have a rape fantasy, or is it something else that draws her to it?
