Dark City

16.

The halls in the Scarboro residence were so dark that Tom and Lacey had to find their way by the light of their cellphones, periodically pausing to make out against the picture frames. Carl usually banged on the thin walls and told them to be quiet, but tonight he'd gone to bed loaded. Lacey could moan with abandon and the old man wouldn't stir a muscle.

The music from Wonder Bar still reeled in her head. Tom slammed her against his bedroom door. His tongue was in her ear, his hand down the front of her skirt. They kissed deeply as they stumbled into darkness, collapsing onto squeaky bedsprings. She tore away his clothing, offering up vile words.

In this moment, she loved him. She loved his freckly smirk and the insecurities he hid so well.

"You've been naughty, lover," she said as she lit a candle on the windowsill above his bed. "So possessive." She straddled him atop his bed. They kissed with fervor until the wax melted and without warning, she poured red ooze down his chest. His gasp excited her. She loved breaking him down before they made love, stretching the limits of his endurance. She loved scratching his shoulders open with her nails, loved tasting the fear in his sweat.

They made love for what felt like the entire night, starting and stopping over and over.

After they were both exhausted, Lacey ran her hands over Tom's body beneath the sheets, following the hard lines of his abdomen. This was the time she could open up to him. Sex brought down her walls enough to let her show a more vulnerable self. She could appear to love Tom or anyone really.

Tom touched the burn scar over her heart. Her tattoo hid the damage, but a line of raised flesh could be felt beneath the ink. She snuggled close in the twin bed, coiling herself around him.

"The skin died instantly, so it didn't even hurt."

"It still pisses me off that he did that to you." Tom sighed into her hair.

"My dad was mentally ill."

"It doesn't matter. Taking a soldering iron to a kid? There's no excuse." He held her tight and kissed her forehead like she was just a little girl. "Nobody's ever going to hurt you like that again. I promise."

He used pretty words. But all the pretty words in the world couldn't make Lacey feel right in her own skin. She hoped that someday she wouldn't have to pretend she was anything other than the creature that came out of St. Bernard Parish: a thin, shivering skeleton of a girl with a brand over her heart, as her father made her.

They left the bedroom window open with cool air coming in through the screen. The morning birds sang in the darkness. Lacey wanted to listen to them as the sun came up, but she closed her eyes and fell asleep in Tom's arms.

______________________

Music: "Muscle Museum" Muse