Skila

I CANNOT BELIEVE THAT JUST HAPPENED. Who does that? This isn’t some E.L. James novel. I didn’t sign a contract, and yet . . . I’ve never felt freer, more liberated, more open in my own sexuality, and let's be real here—there weren’t any whips or chains. We masturbated together while the other watched, and it was hot.

Hot as fuck.

I refuse to feel ashamed of that. I’m a grown ass woman. If I want to experiment, then I can. Period.

Kiptyn walks out of the adjoining bathroom with a warm washcloth and wipes the sticky moisture from between my legs before tossing the rag to the laundry basket in the corner and crawling in the bed with me.

“Well, I was going to cook dinner, but how do you feel about pizza instead?” he asks.

“Pizza sounds great,” I say with a laugh, thankful that he isn't even going to bring up what just happened.

“Do you want to rent a movie while I order?” he asks, passing me the TV remote. I scroll through the options on the ON DEMAND page and settle on Pawn Sacrifice. It looks good and intriguing, and I’ve already seen the rest of the stuff. I click buy and then wait for Kip. He comes back into the bedroom ten minutes later, carrying a large pizza and two glass bottles of Coke. My stomach shows its displeasure at being made to wait by letting out a loud growl.

“Oh my God, feed your son before he eats me from the inside out,” I joke.

“We can't have that.” He places the box in the middle of the bed and passes me a napkin. I don’t waste any time in devouring the first slice. It feels like I haven’t eaten in days. Kiptyn just leans back against the pillows, watching me shove pizza down my throat. I don't bother chewing. What's the point?

“Hey, don't judge me. I’m eating for two here,” I say when I take a second to breathe and sip my soda.

“I wouldn't dare. I’m just wondering if I need to call Dominos and have them bring another ten or so pizzas.”

“Shut up,” I say, slapping at his bare stomach. Even though he is joking with me, I know he doesn't mean a word of it. Kiptyn goes out of his way every day to make sure I know how beautiful he thinks I am, so even though I have marinara sauce on my face and dripping down my chin, I know he still sees perfection. I can see it in the way he looks at me, the way his eyes light up, and the tiny dimple that appears when he gives that half-ass grin without even knowing it—like he’s doing right now.

“What?” he asks.

“Nothing. How’s your arm feeling?”

“It's all right. I took my pain medicine a few minutes ago, so it should ease up soon.” His words make me feel like shit. I hadn’t even been thinking about his shoulder. I just wanted to change the subject. I know it has to be hurting him. He was supposed to start physical therapy today, but after everything else that happened, it kind of got pushed aside.

“Is there anything I can do? Do you want me to rub it?”

“I don’t think it would help. I’m fine, baby. Swear.”

“Okay.” I drop it, even though I don’t want to. I can tell he’s worried about it and I want him to talk to me, but if he doesn’t want to, then I’m not going to push him. Remembering the injury to his shoulder reminded me of everything else that has happened since then, though, and how we still need to talk about his coming home with a stripper, and Camryn being alive and serving me with papers.

Hesitation causes me to hold off on filing the paperwork to terminate Camryn's parental rights. It's almost like I feel sorry for him. Sorry for myself. Sorry for the fact he is virtually unable to step up and be the man he is supposed to be. I hate it, all of it.

Kip has been so understanding, but I don't know how long that will last. His support seems never-ending, but I don't truly know how he feels about me. He seems to love me, to care, and his actions speak volumes, but I long for the words to be spoken.

Validation—that’s what I need. I need to know it’s not just pity because he thought his brother was dead and now his brother is a douche. I need to know that he'll still be around after the baby is born, but I'm afraid to push the issue. I'm afraid of hearing the wrong answer.

Kips head falls to the side. The day and the painkillers have finally taken their toll on him. I grab the pizza box and our empty bottles and ease out of bed, careful not to wake him up. He looks so peaceful like this. I wish I had my phone so I could snap a picture of him to use on my lock screen, but I don’t know where the hell I left it last night.

After dumping our trash in the bin, I go to the refrigerator to grab some milk and a few—oh hell, let’s be honest, a sleeve of cookies, and I hear a knock on the door. I jump a mile in the air, and it takes everything in me to keep from crying out.

Shutting the refrigerator door, I flick on the back porch light so that I can see outside. It’s Camryn. I haven't had any contact with him since he left the hospital, and he looks even worse now than he did then. The normally perfectly groomed man who I was so accustomed to seeing when we were dating is all but gone, replaced by a scrawny, frail man who looks like he's just come off a bender, and the smell of whiskey, stale cigarettes, and sex make my stomach turn.

"Camryn?"

"Skila, I need to talk to you."

I open the door to allow him in. I have no idea what he's up to, but I really wish Kiptyn was awake now. Everything about this feels wrong. I can’t explain it. Camryn’s eyes dart around the room, never staying in one spot for more than a second at a time.

“Listen, Skila, I need you to come with me.”

“Come with you? Where, Camryn? It's ten at night.”

“I know, I know, but they aren’t watching. I can get you out.”

“Camryn, what are you talking about?”

“You need to come with me. You’re not safe. No one is safe.”

“Camryn, you’re scaring me. Who’s not safe? Who’s not watching?”

“It's not important right now. We need to go.” He reaches for my arm, but I pull back before he can grab me. He spins like he didn’t mean to try to grab me and takes two steps toward the kitchen.

“It’s nice here. You’ll be happy here,” he says, changing the subject so fast I have a hard time keeping up.

“Unplug the televisions and the internet. Hurry,” he says, spinning back around. I press my back against the wall, trying to get as far away from him as I can while easing my way back down the hall to the bedroom . . . to Kip. He notices.

“Skila, we have to go now.”

“Okay. Just let me get Kip. KIPTYN,” I yell down the hall. Camryn jumps forward and presses his hand against my mouth. He isn’t hurting me, but I'm terrified. My heart is pounding so hard that I feel like it might beat straight out of my chest any moment.

“NO. He’s one of them. You can't trust him,” he mutters.

I can hear Kiptyn as he crawls from the bed. His feet hit the floor. He calls my name, but I can't answer him.

“SKILA,” he calls again, louder, more urgent, and he turns to come down the hall. When he sees Camryn, he relaxes for a split second before he realizes what’s happening.

“Camryn, what the fuck are you doing? Get your hands off her now.” The fury in his voice makes my knees go weak. Camryn removes his hand from my mouth, but he doesn’t let me go.

“Run to the bedroom. Lock the door. Don’t open it,” Camryn whispers into my ear. I nod my head, letting him know that I'll do what he’s asking. He lets me go, and I rush past Kip, running straight to our room. The only thing I see before I slam the door shut is Camryn attacking Kiptyn and Kip hitting the floor.

I pray I can hold it together long enough to do what I need to do. Searching through the bag on the floor by my side of the bed, I find my cellphone and pull it out as fast as I can. My light is blinking red, signaling low battery. Please, just last long enough. I dial 911 and hit call. They pick up immediately and ask me the nature of my emergency.

I try to slow my racing heart enough to spit out as many detail as I can. The lady on the other end tells me to stay on the phone until a uniformed officer arrives. I sit on the edge of the bed. My entire body is shaking. I can’t stop replaying the image of Kip falling to the ground, with Camryn over top of him.

“Please, God, let him be okay,” I pray.