Microsoft Word - Illicit Desires ePub.doc (10 page)

automatically flinched away, not welcoming his touch. "Lily, I'm sorry." The guilt was all

over his face – sadness and remorse.

Please, let it be a dream.
"Don't touch me," I heard myself saying when he tried to touch

my shoulder again. "Don't touch me, Adrian." I didn't even recognize the sound of my own

voice.

It was clear now that I wasn't dreaming, even with all the hopes I had for God to let it

be a dream; it was all in vain. He did this. This happened.

How I left his room remained a mystery to me, I didn’t know how I made it out of there or

even how I made it to mine. It felt like everything was a blur – I couldn't see, I couldn't feel,

and I may have even forgotten to breathe for some time.

Sleep left me. Of course I couldn't just go to sleep after what had just happened. How

could I? I was in a state of shock for several hours. I didn't know how I passed them –maybe

I was just sitting on my bed, or my armchair, or even on the floor staring at nothing. I didn't

know.

The first thing I recognized was the cold, oh
so
cold shower, and me as I scrubbed my

whole body ferociously. I felt dirty. So dirty.

I wouldn't have known that I was crying if it wasn't for how hot my tears felt compared

to the cold water that was coming out of the showerhead. I wanted to remove any trace of

him that was left on my body. I wanted the feel of his touch gone – I felt so dirty, so, so

dirty.

When my body started to ache and burn because of the sting I left with every new rub

of my sponge, I got out of the shower. It felt like I'd been using sandpaper on my body all

along, not a regular sponge. I felt so sore.

The next thing I knew, I was lying on my bed, hardly able to see or hear anything

around me.

"Dave, she's burning up…"

"Open your eyes, sweetie."

"It won't break!"

"Should we get her to the hospital?"

"How is she now?"

"Hey, Lily, I brought you your homework."

"He said it'l get better soon."

"… only with medication."

"Dude! Can you hear me?"

"She's not in a coma, Sean!"

"Get wel soon, Lilla."

"Sweetheart, it's been three days …"

"My dad made you some soup, I know you’l like it."

"Sandra, she's sick and staying in bed, not going to a fashion show! Stop manicuring her nails!"

"Julia is going crazy worrying about you, darling, we al are."

"She's hardly awake at al ."

" … and I recorded the new Vampire Diaries episode for you."

"Would you help me feed her?"

"Dave, I'm worried."

"… just stop messing with her iPod!"

"Lilla, we missed you."

"Forgive me, baby sis."

I felt his hand on my forehead. My eyelids were so heavy that I couldn't move them, I

couldn't open my eyes. Then his hand touched my cheek softly.

"No! Don't touch me. Please don't!" I screamed with a raspy voice which I – again –

didn't recognize as my own.

"Lily?! It's me. Dad!”

"Don't touch me," I repeated, in a whisper this time as I sat up on the bed, pulling the

sheets up all the way to my chin. I glanced at him with my head bent down, only to see a

confused look that was mixed with worry on his face.

"Sweetheart. Are you okay? How do you feel?"

"Don't touch me," I breathed. Somewhere deep inside me I knew it was my dad, and I

knew it was okay for him to touch me, but I couldn't bear the thought of him touching me,

though I didn't know why.

"Okay, sweetie, I'm not going to touch you. Here." He held his hands in front of him,

showing me that they were not anywhere near me. Tears started to stream down my cheeks.

"There, there, sweetheart. Shhhh, everything is going to be okay. You had a fever for

too long, over a week, you're just confused. I'll go call Mom for you and tell her that you're

awake, okay?"

I nodded without looking at him.

I didn't know how long I stayed in bed. Weeks maybe… I didn't know; I’d lost all sense of

time. I spent most of my days crying and shaking. What happened to me in
his
room just

wouldn't leave my mind.

I couldn't help but flinch every time my father's hand came near me. I knew very well

that my dad would never mean anything bad like –
him
, but then again, I'd thought the same

about …
him
.

I trusted him … he did that … he's bad … he hurt me
. All of my friends came to visit me

every single day. They tried their best to get me out of the bed, or feed me, or do my hair

and nails, or simply try to make me laugh. I was getting a little bit better, but I threw up most

everything I ate, so I gave up eating as much as I could.

Talking wasn't even an option; it was the hardest thing to do, so I stayed silent. I saw

him
once or twice, but I looked away right away, trying my best to avoid seeing him. That

only hurt more, never made things better. Until that time when I was in the bathroom and

caught myself in the mirror, I looked …
dead
.

The person in the reflection wasn't me! I didn't look like that; she looked like trash:

skinny, pale and nearly like a drug addict. I couldn't bear the thought of looking like that. I

ended up crying my eyes out, hating myself and my life, and just being miserable.

Then one day I thought,
'that's not me, I'm stronger than that,' and
I really was… I really
am
!

I was never one who would just keep on crying and weeping when something bad happened

to me; no, I refused to cut myself off from the world and end up in some mental institution.

I was going to face my problems. I was going to
his
room, and I would demand some

answers! This needed to stop!

Next thing I did was to open my door that led to the bathroom and stand in front of his

door, taking a deep breath to help me find the courage to knock and face him. I'd locked this

door from the inside ever since…
that day
, and never unlocked it again. Before, I never

locked it that much. If he was outside I never locked it, or if I was only brushing my teeth,

drying my hair or washing my face.

Mostly, I only locked it when I was in the shower or in the tub … at six in the morning,

masturbating because of a sexual dream I had about
him
. I shook the thought away. Even

that
I would talk with him about, and I dared him to lie to me.

I unlocked the door and knocked. Then waited.

"Lily?"

Looking into his eyes was painful, but I tried my best not to look like the frightened

mouse that I was. I straightened my shoulders. "Adrian, we need to talk.”

He stared at me for a second, then lowered his gaze to the floor and nodded. Once

inside his room, I fought the unbearable need to vomit my guts out at the sight of his bed.

Get it together, Lily!

I sat down on the sofa on the side of his room, right beside his door and across from

his bed. Then I took a deep breath.

He sat on his bed, looking all guilty and – scared? "Do you want to tell me what

happened?"

"I … uh …"

"Forget that, I already know what happened." I shook my head slightly and looked at

my hands that were resting on my lap. I took another deep breath and tried again. "Why did

you do that, Adrian?"

Don't cry, I'm begging you, don't cry, you're stronger than this.

I wouldn't.

"Lily, I'm sorry. I can never tell you how sorry I am," he said in the smallest voice I'd

ever heard.

"I'm not asking you to apologize, Adrian!" I folded my arms in front of my chest and

rested my back on the back of the sofa, crossing one leg over the other. "I want answers!"

"Lily, please, don't embarrass me. I'm already embarrassed enough."

"Oh, really? Ah! Forgive me for hurting your feelings!"

"Lil—"

"Don't you even realize what you did to me? Don't you know how you—" I couldn't

finish my sentence. The tears I'd been holding in since I entered the room managed to choke

me and keep me from saying anything further.

He came to me in a second, kneeling in front of me, yet keeping his distance, which I

appreciated very much. "Please, don't cry, Lily. Your tears are killing me. Please, I'm not

even worth those precious tears," he said in a very low voice, his own tears shining in his

eyes.

"Why would you do something like this to me, Adrian? Just give me one reason why!" I

sobbed.

"There is nothing I could say that would make what I did understandable, ever. What I

did was wrong, I know that. And, if you were ever able to forget it someday… I would be

your slave for the rest of my life. Hell, I'm already your slave for the rest of my life, if you

would just accept it." Tears started to roll over his cheeks, but he made no effort to wipe

them away.

I wanted to wipe them with my own hands, but I couldn't, I was still so mad at him.

More than mad. I could only reply with more tears. I wanted answers, but my love for him

made me feel bad for making him look like that. But I couldn't just ignore it; he put himself

in this situation, not me.

"Why did you do it?" I whispered.

He sighed, then rubbed his forehead and cleared his throat. "Okay
…
I'll tell you

everything," he started. "I don't know what happened to me, Lily. Remember that day in the

beach house when I… uh …"

How could I forget? I'd been trying since forever to block that memory out of my mind,

but there it was, coming back to me with a strong force. I nodded and lowered my gaze, as if

I was the one who should be embarrassed and not him.

"I've been having … thoughts about you that I shouldn't have since the first day of that

vacation, since I saw you in a … bikini."

I gaped at him, trying to take what he just said in. "What kind of thoughts? Wait…

Don't say it. God!"

"I swear to God that I have tried my best to push those thoughts away, but … I can't

control myself when I'm close to you." He was the one to look at the floor this time.

"You mea— … Had you—… All that time?'

He nodded.

What is that?
Why is that?
I tried to understand what he was saying to me…

Was he saying that he's lusting over me? His sister? His twin? Oh … my … God!

'You were having similar thoughts about him, too,'
a voice in my head accused. Yeah, but they

were just dreams … or were they? What if they weren’t dreams all along I was having? What

if they were true? Did he actually touch me that many times?

After all, I woke up while thinking it was a dream – what if the other times weren't

dreams either? And I just happened to not wake up and witness it? "D— Did you… Have

you done it before, Adrian?!"

He squeezed his eyes shut like I had just hit him with something heavy.

I brought a hand to cover the cry that wanted to break out of my mouth. I failed

though, and it came out more like a muffled gasp.
How could he?
I felt my heart burning and

pounding inside my chest, wanting to escape my body, not able to handle all the anguish that

I was facing all of a sudden.

"How could you?" I whispered.

He answered me with tears of sorrow and agony.