Page 52

Ifeel like I’m in a cocoon. Soft, warm, and protected. Like nothing in the outside world can touch me, and I’m completely safe. And the smell… I burrow deeper, press myself harder into the pillowy cushion of softness, and breathe in deep.
Sunshine and flowers, that’s what fills my nose, and it makes my eyes water with tears because I miss that smell so much.
“Well, isn’t this so sweet?”
My body goes rigid, as stiff as a board, and I pull my face out of the blankets and look up. My aunt stands over the bed wearing her soft black robe that feels like flower petals. Her long blonde hair has big curls and falls over her shoulders. Her mouth is curved into a smile, as if she thinks finding me lying in my mother’s arms is sweet. But I know that look, and it’s not meant to be sweet.
I scramble to get up. I don’t like Aunt Rosa being in my mother’s room. I don’t like it when she’s anywhere near my mother. She stops me by putting a hand on my arm.
“It’s okay, precious. Stay right where you are,” she says in a sugary voice that sends nasty shivers all over my body.
I still want to leave, but I lie back against my mother. Earlier when I came in here, my mother was already asleep, so I wiggled my small body between her arms and settled myself against her chest. I faced outward, so it was almost like my mom was hugging me from behind, like a lot of parents do with their children.
I eye Aunt Rosa warily. I want her to leave, but I keep my mouth shut because I don’t know what she’ll do if I anger her.
She sits on the side of the bed, that creepy smile still on her face. Lifting her hand, she swipes it across my forehead and pushes back some of my hair.
“You know, it’s okay to want to sleep with your mother. To press up against her body and feel all of her curves against yours. I bet it feels good, doesn’t it, baby boy?”
No, it doesn’t. Not how she’s saying anyway. I like sleeping with my mother because I feel safe with her. If my mother were awake and not almost like a dead person who’s still living, she’d hurt Aunt Rosa for touching me the way she does. Mother and Father always said people aren’t supposed to touch kids in their private areas. I guess Aunt’s parents never told her. When I told her that the first time she touched me, she told me my parents lied. She told me that it was up to the adults to teach their kids how to be dominating men and submissive women.
I think she’s the one who lied.
Aunt Rosa’s hand leaves my face and moves down my neck and to my shoulder. When she moves it down further, she pushes the covers too. I feel them slide down my body, and I know they’re sliding down my mother’s too.
My body trembles, and it’s not from fear. Anger makes me feel hot, like I have a fever, and I wonder if my face is red because of the heat.
I don’t say anything until the covers reach my feet.
“Stop,” I say.
Aunt’s eyes aren’t on me, but my mother behind me. She jerks them to my face at my demand.
“Excuse me?” she asks, one of her skinny brows going up.
“Leave. I don’t want you in here. Leave my mother alone.”
She laughs like I told her the funniest joke.
She gets up from the bed and leans over me. My chin is pinched between her fingers. “Since I’m the only functioning adult in this room, I’m the one who gives orders.”
Her voice is hard, but her lips are still smiling.
She lets my chin go and reaches beyond me. I want to turn over to see what she’s doing, but I’m too frozen to move. A moment later, my mother’s warmth at my back disappears. I flinch uncontrollably when I hear something rip.
Aunt lets out a sigh. “I’ve always been jealous of Caroline’s tits. So beautiful and full, and look at that, cherry-red nipples.”
I jerk my head around and see that Aunt has ripped the front of my mother’s nightgown, and she’s pinching her nipples. Mother’s head is turned away, so I can’t see her face. My stomach hurts, and I think I might throw up.
Aunt brings her attention back to me. She licks her lips and she looks at my body, starting at my face and going down to my cock. She puts her hand on my stomach and slips her fingers beneath the waistband of my sleep shorts, pulling my cock out of the top. I’m not hard in the slightest, but she doesn’t seem to mind because she grabs it anyway and begins running her hand up and down it.
“I bet her nipples would taste like cherries. You like cherries, don’t you, precious?”
I shake my head rapidly.
“You naughty boy,” she scolds. “The cook told me the other day your favorite pie is cherry.” Her hand around me tightens so much that I cry out in pain. “Why don’t you suck on her nipples and tell me if they taste like cherries.”
“I don’t want to,” I reply, trying my best not to cry. Big boys don’t cry, that’s what Aunt says.