Page 16 of Necessary Cruelty

I am always the butt of the joke.

He rises off the bed and flicks the blanket over me, knowing I won’t move as long as he’s here. The condom is tossed in the wastebasket, and I have to remind myself to take out the trash before Zion gets home, in case he comes in here looking for something. Only as Vin does up his pants do I realize he never took them off, screwing me with just his fly down and the waist of his pants around his hips. Somehow, that little detail makes me feel even worse than I already do.

He leaves a stack of crumpled bills on the table, and I know it will amount to exactly $125 without needing to get up and count it. That is the same amount of money my mother earned each day she worked for his family. In the past, I’ve thrown the money back in his face or tried to burn it with one of the lighters that is always lying around. But it’s usually easier not to fight him, weak protests won’t make him think any better of me.

My voice is hoarse with disuse when I finally recover enough breath to speak. I say the only thing guaranteed to get under his skin, the only thing that will hurt him in even a fraction of the way he hurts me.

“I forgive you.”

His shoulders tense, so I know he heard me, but he doesn’t turn back.

“I don’t want your forgiveness,” he says, voice a raspy whisper in the darkness. “Just your silence.”

The door slams shut behind him with enough force to shake the walls, and a dusting of plaster falls from the ceiling to coat my bedspread.

Two meteors accelerating in the darkness of space.

It is only a matter of time before we crash and burst into a million tiny pieces.