Faithless (Mistress & Master of Restraint) (26 page)

“That’s fucking nuts.”

“Pretty much… Who is this guy? The guy that is breaking your heart. I’d kick his ass, but scary Boyd will do a better job.”

“I’ve lied to you,” I whisper.

“I know,” there’s a smile in his voice.

“A lot.”

“You’re not very good at it, Faith,” Cort says with a grin. “Pitiful, actually. I ignore it when you lie, but Ezra is a walking lie detector. Lying to him is like bold-face lying in front of three separate people- that Master Ez dude, he’s a cold bastard. Every time you lie, he knows it,” Cort warns.

“Why do I want to start singing Christmas songs about Santa?
You better watch out, you better not shout, you better not cry, I’m telling you why…‘cuz Santa Claus is coming to town… He sees you when you’re sleeping. He knows when you’re awake. He knows when you’ve been bad or good… So you better be good for goodness sake
,” I giddily sing, with an edge border-lining on madness.

“You be
tter change that to Satan Claus… and just like Santa, Ez never sleeps. He will stare at you for hours.”

“You’re kidding, right?”

“Not a chance.”

“That’s sad,” I sigh. “How is he doing?”

“Sleeping,” Cort sadly admits. “Dr. Weiss sedated him.”

“I’m sorry,” I sniffle, feeling like a total bitch. Here their family is dealing with horrible things and I’m worried about one shitty sexual experience.

Cort just shrugs, silently saying
what are you gonna do?
He toes his sneakers off and yanks his shirt over his head. I try to push the thought away, but it superimposes itself on what I’m really seeing. The difference between Cortez’s boyish body and Wil’s killing machine body is astronomical.

“You’re not sleeping in all those blankets and your bathrobe. No Faith burrito is going to sweat all night on my watch. Unroll and shove over.”

“You’re sleeping here,” I meep out as I crawl from my blanket-cave.

“It hurts too much to see him sedated- like it kills me to look at him. I know them all and I love them all. Seeing him fight to have a second’s peace- it kills me, Faith- like literally kills me a bit
more every single day.” Seeing tears glisten in Cort’s laughing eyes draws a sob from my throat. Cort should never be unhappy.

“I just tell myself he will be fine,” Cort murmurs as he crawls into bed next to me. “When it first started, he was manic. Dr. W
eiss was with him hours a day… and when he wasn’t with the Doctor, all he wanted to do was play The Hunter.”

“What’s The Hunter mean, Cort?”

“I don’t know, Faith. I really don’t,” he despondently cries. “When Marcus hears us talk about it, he looks like he’s going to be sick. But Ezra is better than he used to be. These episodes are fewer and farther between. I can see him struggle to keep himself together. There is really only two of him, not three. Ezra just doesn’t want to be called Ezra, like his alter- it confuses him. It’s the two halves of him- one sad and broken, and one methodical and strong- and Ez is the whole. It’s okay when one takes over as long as the other is still cognizant. It’s like tonight when it’s bad. They can do things, and when he’s back as one person, he doesn’t know he did it. It’s what the young Ezra likes to do- it’s why he’s evil. Master Ez usually isn’t like that, but the lure of sex was too enticing.” Cort pauses, draws in a big gulp of air, and abruptly says, “I made him a promise, Faith.”

“What?”

“If Ez behaves and allows Ezra to be awake so that he’s whole but Master Ez is in control, he can play with us.”

“You mean have sex with me,” I coldly mutter.

“Master Ez doesn’t find me attractive, Faith.” Cort’s sigh sounds selfish to me.

“You mean have sex with me,” I repeat.

“Yes, that’s exactly what I mean- but with me at the same time. Never alone with him- I’ll never leave you alone with him unless he’s whole.”

“
I need to go to sleep now, Cort,” I brusquely say. “We’ll talk in the morning.”

“Okay,
” Cort mutters in a childlike voice.

I never fall asleep, and neither does Cort.

~Chapter Nineteen~

“Happy Birthday, Jesus,” I murmur while stretching in bed. Ordinary kids my age would be crawling out of bed the second the sun hit the horizon…but no one ever said I was ordinary.

I go about my routine of complete and total isolation… or as I like to call it, Freedom.

I may have had forty-eight hours of total retardation, but as I’ve said before, I ain’t slow. And yes, I thought ain’t because I felt like it, not because I’m ignorant. That dumbass, hormonal teenager has taken a vacay thanks to embarrassment and mortification. In the past two months, I’ve been a good girl. I’ve been Faith. And I ain’t touched no boys.

Wil may have made
me feel like a slut, like I seduced him and made him do something he didn’t want to do. But it was Cort that made me feel like a whore, that he could bargain my body without my consent. My friends made me feel like Gwen. Not just look like her on the outside, but feel like her on the inside. I couldn’t have that. Just because everyone around me thinks my only worth is my snatch, doesn’t make it true.

If I allow them to disrespect me and treat me as that, then I allow myself to be that way. It took Cort three ass-kickings before he figured out I wasn’t messing around. Last time he tried to touch me, I almost broke his pinky.

I don’t know how, but it was Ezra that took one look at me and it’s like our minds had communion. He’s the one who saved Cort from bodily harm, and he’s the one who’s allowed to hug me. Ezra apologized. Ezra explained. Ezra told me he respected me and he wouldn’t treat me that way. Ezra asks before he touches me- all the parts of him. I even get along with the bad Ezra.

Ezra’s had four meltdowns in the past two months, and I was there for three of them- it’s always his broken side that goes haywire when the strong side can’t contain it.

I know Ezra respects me and truly values my friendship, because I’m the only person outside of his immediate family that knows he’s mentally ill- not even Aaron and Divina know. Even when he’s mid-breakdown, Ezra’s worried about Cortez. My presence has eased him some, because Ez knows I will be there to support Cort through the aftermath. Our friendship is no longer about duty and coercion from my mother or about a dumbass teenager who’s horny. It’s real friendship.

In my quest to prove that my body is useful, I’ve began training myself. It’s winter break, so I’ve had a
lot of alone time. The Ezes have family obligations, Fate is shoved up the Whittenhowers’ asses, and Boyd- well, once you get a big brother, there ain’t no getting rid of him.

And Wil… I haven’t seen him since that night. He’s been… around… or so I’ve felt him nearby. It’s like I even know when he’s three houses down at Boyd’s
. Once, I saw his car at the Meyer’s residence. No doubt being told to do something uncomfortable. I’d like to see him because I need to apologize and prove that I’m not my mother. I won’t take advantage of him.

I’ve changed a lot, and not just on the outside. But my outside is the most dramatic. My daily workout of five-hundred crunches, two-hundr
ed push-ups, and a jog around Pimp Crestview Drive, has given me defined muscles in my arms, thighs, and tummy. I don’t have a six-pack like Ez or a bazillion pack like Wil and Boyd. But I can draw my finger along my visible belly muscles.

I’m not exercising to be toned or pretty like most girls my age. I needed to prove to myself that my body was built for something other than seduction- which is a freakin’ joke. I don’t understand why they think that’s what I’m good for, so I’m going to prove them wrong. And if that fails, I’ll be strong en
ough to make them eat their words.

I’ve been working
at a tattoo parlor so I can buy groceries and add to my savings. After borrowing Fate’s ID a million times, I just kept the dang thing. She must have gotten a new one issued because I see her driving around. But she’s dumb enough to drive without a license. If Fate got pulled over by the cops, she’d just bounce her ponytail, bat her eyelashes, and smile. The cop would probably let her go with a warning and his phone number.

Rex, my boss, didn’t believe I was twenty. Rex
also thought my name was Fate. I’m just like my daddy- instead of embezzlement, I specialize in identity theft. After two weeks of looking at me sideways, Rex gave up on trying to get me to admit the truth- now he actually believes me- because I eventually told him the truth.

Working for Rex has
had its benefits. It’s allowed me to change my outside appearance so that no one in their right mind would ever associate me with Gwen. The first piercing I ever got was a barbell in my eyebrow. The second was a stud in my nose. The third was a Monroe piercing. The fourth was a Labret piercing. Until I met Rex, my ears weren’t even pierced.

It was my first tattoo that garnered me Rex’s respect and ended his constant questioning.
By the eighth tattoo, he hired me full time- under my real name. I earned his trust, so he earned the truth.

For baby Jesus’ birthday, I got
Faithless
tattooed across my shoulders- not that I will ever allow anyone to see my artwork. It’s private. It’s not about them. It’s about me.

I quit Hillbrook. It was one more thing tying me to the lying bastards that want to make me a whore. Boyd act
ually beat me when he found out. He then dragged me back to school, screaming at the nuns while I bled on the stone floor. I had the satisfaction of seeing his face when they told him I’d taken my GED and they couldn’t enroll a student that already graduated. He forcefully dropped me to the floor, and then walked away. When I caught up with Boyd, I made him eat his nuts in the middle of the annex with half of Hillbrook’s student body watching.

There is a part of me that has gotten twisted up inside, and it enjoys seeing other people’s pain and anguish. I feel giddy when I’m the one to cause the pain. I love my brother, but I
’ve never felt such satisfaction as I did when I watched Boyd’s face crumble in pain while we stood in the Dean’s office.

The only person I’
ve talked to about my twistedness is Ezra- not the real Ezra- the one that is a little bit evil. The next day Marc came up to me and gave me a hug, as he was pulling away he told me it’s called a Sadist, and that I’m not broken inside.

I will admit
this, but never out loud. I wonder how much I will have to do to make that cunt of a mother of mine face me? Apparently, it takes a lot. I keep acting out, and Gwen has yet to ask to see me. It’s only when I’m feeling down that I will admit the truth- the tattoos, piecing, quitting school, I was testing Gwen, and she’s failed miserably. They really only want what I can do for them.

Boyd warned me that Grandfather was on his way over at least ten times in the past week, but my brother save
d my ass. I was informed that Boyd thought our granddaddy pimp has no issue using his females for his own pleasures. So if granddaddy comes a knocking- hide. I told Boyd that if Mitchell Meyers tried to enter the Simpson residence, he’d be leaving in a body bag… and I meant it. Since I haven’t committed a homicide this week, they believed me too.

So here I am, getting ready for my first family Christmas dinner- just Boyd and me. He promised that Henry wasn’t home. Boyd’s daddy is o
n a vacay with our mom and granddaddy pimp. I’m sure a few others from the elderly six plus Fate are in attendance. Leave it to them to have a summit meeting on Jesus’ birthday. The bastards already think they are God.

I pull on my black leather pants- a Christmas present from Rex- and a black turtleneck. I don’t know what I’m going to do in the summer… that night, running around in nothing but a silk blouse and torn skirt changed me. I have to feel covered up, like I did in my blanket cocoon. I will never wear another dress or skirt again. That was one of the biggest obstacles of staying at Hillbrook- the uniform. I tried, I really did. I made it one class before I had a panic attack. I went home and found out where I could take my GED
, and did it. I even wear pants to bed.

I feel like a coward, not facing my fears. But the panic is suffocating. It makes me respect Ezra all the more. How he lives in his own hell every waking moment of the day… and since he never sleeps, he’s always living it.

I line my lavender eyes with Kohl. I tried a few different eye colors on for size, and decided on the lavender. The green contacts didn’t cover the blue. The brown contacts made my eyes look like mud. Rex told me about red contacts- I couldn’t fathom why someone would need red eyes. But hey, it gave me purple eyes as a bonus. I even put purple highlights in my hair to match.

I don’t look like that little girl from West Virginia anymore- blonde, blue-eyed,
and innocent. Tattoos, piercings, black hair with purple streaks, angry clothing, and purple eyes that hold barely leashed violence. At less than five feet and now ninety pounds, I even scare the patrons of
The Black Death,
and they know I’m only sixteen. Rex said it was the eyes that scare people. It’s not the color. It’s my soul bleeding out. Rex is a regular poet.