Page 107 of Let the Game Begin

I quit watching them and took out my notebook where I loved to draw. Just then, I had decided to finish my draft of the grandfather clock in our house, which showed two o’clock in the afternoon.

“Yes, I lost a couple of years but I am trying to make them up. I want to graduate, and I need to work so I can pay for college.”

“You’re a girl with a good head on her shoulders, Kimberly. Come with me. Logan is asleep, but Neil is here in the living room.” I heard their footsteps drawing closer and closer, but my hand didn’t want to stop tracing lines across the paper.

“Neil, darling.” My mother knelt down beside me and pulled the pencil from my hand until I looked at her. Then, I was able to get a better look at the girl with her: the long blond hair, the tight shirt, the short black skirt, the slim body, and fresh, innocent face.

“Darling, this is Kimberly. She’s going to be your new babysitter.” I sat there, just staring at her. I had once read somewhere that children had the power to see beyond superficial appearances, and I discovered in that moment that I, in fact, had that capacity. There was something odd in this stranger’s gray eyes, something sinister.

“I don’t understand why he’s so quiet; he isn’t usually,” my mother said, touching my cheek. My eyes couldn’t pull away from the new babysitter’s hypnotic face.

The girl knelt like my mother, while I lay on the floor, my legs crossed behind me and my hands motionless in front of me.

“You really are a beautiful boy, Neil,” she said softly, examining every feature of my face. It wasn’t a compliment to my mother for having given birth to a child who looked like me. Instead, it was flattery directed at a child, one that she was already thinking of in a very abnormal way.

“I love kids, Mrs. Miller. You’ll see—your children and I are going to get along great,” she added, still staring fixedly at me.

“That would make me so happy,” Mom said hopefully.

“We’re going to spend a lot of time together, Neil,” Kimberly whispered with a devious smile that sent shivers down my spine…

***

Light from a small lamp on the dresser dimly illuminated the dark of the pool house. I was soaked in sweat; it was beading on my forehead, plastering my hair to my neck.

“Yes…” the blond beneath me groaned as I fucked her from behind. Allat once, my stomach burned at the reminder of her presence and the sound of her gasps nauseated me. I covered her mouth with my hand, and she tightened around me, probably because she saw it as a possessive gesture. In reality, I hadn’t gone out that night with the intention of bringing anyone home, not after the second puzzle had riddled my mind with suspicions and uncertainties. Then, I starting thinking about Kimberly, and it made me so angry and confused.

So, I took refuge in sex to avoid reality. Though I’d tried several times over the years to break the unhealthy habit, this destructive escapism, I always fell back into temptation.

I’d also spent the past two weeks wanting Selene, but she still had the marks of Jennifer’s violence all over her body. I forced myself to keep my distance and didn’t bother her with my advances. At least, not until the library, when I’d once again found myself in close quarters with her and her damned coconut smell.

The oval of her face, her ocean eyes rimmed in long, black lashes, her auburn hair in loose waves, her tiny, upturned nose and those lips… Those fucking lips that I had imagined on my own.

“Yes, keep going…” the blond beneath me whined again as I slammed my hips against her ass. I didn’t even remember her name. All that mattered was that she had blond hair and a willowy body; that was enough to silence the Boy in me.

He talked all the time and often cried. He begged me to remind him that it was all over. That he was no longer a victim. That he was now the one in charge.

“You like being fucked this way?” I whispered to the girl, grabbing her sweaty hair in a tight fist. She bent back her neck and babbled something unintelligible, her eyes glazed. I rammed into her ass, creating the unmistakable sounds of rough sex to which I had grown accustomed.

Beads of sweat ran into the creases of my flexed abdominals and my tanned skin flushed with effort. My bare chest was pressed against her sweaty back. I could feel her slippery skin meeting my own, just as I could feel her juices soaking me in the area where the condom didn’t completely cover me.

I looked down at us and the troublesome feeling only increased: I was disgusted by this.

“Y.. You’re…incredible,” she fawned over me, pushing herself up to meet me. She couldn’t get enough; she really was just like the blond from my nightmares. She was lewd, experienced, and…

Perfect for me.

I insulted her roundly, whispering the filthiest things a man could say in an intimate moment, and she made noises of appreciation because she thought I was doing it to get her hot and not because I truly meant it. But how was she supposed to know that I needed to use women like her to carve out a moment of peace and remind myself that I was now the one dominating others?

Yet, I never really felt any better.

I was marked and stigmatized now, destined to only experience sexuality and eroticism the way I’d been taught: perversely.

I closed my eyes, and the Boy appeared again inside my head. He was wearing what he always wore: his Oklahoma City tank top and a pair of blue shorts. His knees were scraped up, and he had a basketball tucked underneath his arm. He smiled at me and bored his bright eyes directly into mine as he said:

“Finally, I’m no longer the one being subjected to this vast and intolerable threat. Finally, I don’t have to endure an unendurable situation. Finally, I am the one with all the power, and that bitch is the victim.”

He winked at me, and I just kept moving. My conscience listened to him and everything I did was to satisfy him.