Seventeen

Seventeen

He had been pacing, but stopped and stood in the middle of the floor when I came in. For once, Isaiah seemed more nervous than I was. His eyes held some conflict I did not understand.

We looked at each other for a long minute and some of the anxiety in Isaiah’s eyes disappeared, but he still looked somewhat unsure. I did not want him to feel that way. What if he was unsure about staying, about being with me?

I did not want to know what Isaiah had doubts about. I thought maybe I could help him forget.

I took a few steps forward and kissed him. Isaiah wrapped his arms around me and, though he was at first unresponsive under my lips, he kissed me back. We sat down on the cot together and Isaiah broke away.

“Addy,” he began nervously. “Do you remember that night?”

I knew, of course, which night he was talking about. “You think I could forget?” I said quietly.

“Do you…” He trailed off for a moment before trying again, seeming embarrassed. “Do you remember when… how it hurt you… when we…”

I was not sure where he was going with this, but I nodded. “I said that it didn’t hurt because I knew you would stop.” I blushed in a way I had not blushed in a long time.

Isaiah nodded and closed his eyes. “Would you… would you be able to tell me to stop if this was hurting you?”

“What? What do you mean?” I looked at him with a face of utter incomprehension.

“I talked to Hannah.” Oh God. She told him about Jordan. “She told me how it was… after I left.”

“Isaiah let me explain…” I said, panicked that Hannah had told him the truth before I could.

“There is nothing you have to explain to me,” he said. He did not seem angry. “She told me how miserable you were after I left.” Isaiah lifted his eyes to me. “She told me how much you hurt.”

“Oh,” I breathed a silent sigh of relief. He clearly knew nothing about Jordan. When the relief passed though, I was confused again. Could he really be worried about how I had been hurt?

“Oh, Isaiah, I… I did hurt. I missed you so much. But you shouldn’t worry about that now.” I said sincerely. “That night put so much on us both that neither of us should have had to go through, but… but what happened to you was so much worse than what happened to me.”

Isaiah closed his eyes again and bit his lip. “Do you know what that night put on me, Addy?” he asked quietly. “Do you know what was left on me?”

“I… I don’t understand” If he hadn’t been so serious, I would have pointed out that he was being awfully cryptic.

“Of course you don’t.” He grimaced. “You need to see.”

With that same pained look on his face, Isaiah stood and pulled his shirt over his head. Just looking at his chest, I would not have known. Then, slowly, he turned.

I covered my mouth with my hand and instinctively recoiled from him. Isaiah’s back was covered in scars. There were dozens of lashes; dozens of light, raised lines that crisscrossed across the muscles of his back and shoulders.

I could not even begin to imagine the pain caused by those blows. Those scars told the story of Isaiah’s suffering, suffering I could never begin to comprehend.

How could he possibly have chosen to come back to the place where that had happened?

“They are hideous, aren’t they?” he said coldly. Isaiah looked like he could cry, but he would not. I realized as I looked at those scars that I had never, ever seen Isaiah cry. “You can’t understand,” he spat, reaching for his shirt.

I could not let Isaiah feel that way about himself. He was still so beautiful, so good. I might as well have put those scars on him, and those scars made him feel this way.

I reached for Isaiah’s clenched fist. He did not move. “Isaiah…” I said quietly. He turned, and I could see him silently pleading with me for comfort. “Come on, now. Sit with me.”

I took his hand and gently coaxed him to sit next to me. I turned him so his back faced me, rolling his shirt back up over his head. Then I touched his scars. I ran my hands along the lines, trying to imagine what was going through his mind, what he had been through. Isaiah’s shoulders trembled as he took deep, shaky breaths.  

He had to know that I would not turn away, no matter what he revealed. He had to know I felt something that could not be killed at the sight of scars.

He had to know I still loved him.

I draped my arms around him, marveling at how dark his skin looked against the ivory tone of mine. “I understand, Isaiah,” I said, kissing the back of his neck. He relaxed his shoulders, accepting the gesture.

Isaiah turned his head and kissed my arm. “I’m starting to think you could,” he whispered.

We sat there like that for a while before I spoke. I probably could have stayed like that forever, with my heart beating against Isaiah’s warm, broad back. I breathed in deeply and his unbearably familiar smell, woodstove and sweat and grass, pulled me back through a thousand memories.

“God,” I breathed, half talking to myself. “How can you be worried about my getting hurt? How can you possibly think I suffered more than you did?”

He waited a moment before answering. “You have to understand that I know about suffering, Addy, and I would never want you to feel the pain I’ve felt.” Isaiah turned so we were face to face again. He put one hand on my shoulder. The other rested on my thigh.

“I have suffered before. I’m a slave. I was born a slave. I know about suffering,” he said seriously, firmly. “But you…” He lifted the hand from my shoulder and ran it along my face. The familiar feeling of his rough hands melted my heart. “Pain was new to you then, or it should have been. I was the first person you ever really lost. I was the first one to give you that pain.”

“No,” I breathed. I did not want him thinking like that. “I didn’t… you didn’t.” I couldn’t finish. I was totally focused on the fact that had become so close, how badly I wanted to close the space between us.

He leaned in closer, our faces just an inch away. “I don’t… I don’t want to hurt you,” he said. Isaiah’s face was so close to mine. His voice was quiet and serious, but something hid behind those words, something passionate.

“I… I don’t want you to get hurt… again… either…” It was getting difficult to find the words. Our lips were practically touching as I said it. Isaiah’s breath was hot and ragged on my face. “So maybe… maybe we should… stop…”

When I said the last word, Isaiah’s face shifted slightly, intentionally or not I’ll never know, and his lips lightly brushed against mine. Isaiah lingered there for a second, his forehead pressed to mine, and I could see the conflict in his face. He was afraid of hurting me. He was afraid of getting hurt. But I could see how badly he wanted to act on the feeling between us.

I had no conflict. I had not meant what I said. I did not want to stop this. I would not hurt him again. We would not lose each other.

That was what I knew. That was what was hidden in Isaiah’s eyes.

His hesitation ended and I closed my eyes and we kissed again, longer and fuller this time. I knew whatever uncertainty there was left was not enough to stand in our way.

So when he broke away again, I knew it was far from over.

Isaiah pulled me back to him and kissed me again, faster and rougher than before. He was wild, fierce, and I was far more than ready to rise up to meet him. When he finally broke the kiss, it was only to push me fervently back on to the bed. He came down on top of me with a groan, almost a snarl, breaking deep in his throat.

I don’t know how everything happened so quickly, but suddenly Isaiah’s skin on mine was all I could feel. In all the times I had imagined being with him again, I had thought it would feel the same as that night in the cabin. But everything was different. There was no trace left of the shyness of before. We were no longer two embarrassed kids who could barely look at each other once we were naked. This was different.

This time, he was everywhere. His arms legs hands mouth. Everywhere. Fingers and lips traced urgently across my body, circling my shoulders, my breasts, my hips, my thighs. Then he was there between my legs. Isaiah’s whole body tensed, muscles straining. I ran my hands across the strange, new texture of his back, holding myself closer.

It was too much, too much feeling. It had not been like this before. I let my hands leave his body and grabbed the headboard of the cot, as if that would free me from this wonderful, terrifying feeling.

He ran his hands along my extended arms. I think he said my name, but there was nothing I could say. I was engulfed in this feeling. I was engulfed in him. There was nothing I could do but give myself over to the feeling. There was nothing I wanted to do more. I just wanted Isaiah to keep holding me like he would never, ever let go.

As it had been with Isaiah before, everything seemed to be over much too soon, though I was sure plenty of time had passed. I lay on my side, looking at the rest of the room without seeing it. Isaiah lay behind me, his chest pressed to my back, his arms wrapped around me.

It was all too much for me to take in. So much had happened in so few hours, just like last time. It had taken just two days for everything to be built and destroyed.

I could not let that happen again.

For four years I had waited. I had barely felt anything. Now Isaiah was back, and emotions were returning that I thought I would never have again. It was like I had been frozen for all these years and just now, finally, something was warming me from the inside out.

It was not until Isaiah said something that I even realized I was crying.

“Oh… oh don’t cry, Addy,” he soothed, softly running his rough hands along my back. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

I did not look at him. I was too afraid of his reaction. “I’m still in love with you.” I whispered, letting the tears fall. “And I don’t want to be afraid of loving you anymore.”

I rolled over and buried my face in his chest, still not looking Isaiah in the eyes. “Shh… shh…” He whispered. I savored the feeling of his soothing hands on my skin. He brought a hand to my face and tilted my chin upward so I could see him.

“I’m not afraid,” he said sincerely. “I told you before, when I’m with you, I don’t have to feel afraid.” Isaiah pulled me close. “I’m with you now,” he whispered into my hair. “You don’t have to be afraid either. I never stopped loving you and I never will.”

I kissed Isaiah’s chest and curled more tightly against him. In four years no one but Jordan had told me they loved me.

“Stay until morning?” I asked, murmuring sleepily.

Isaiah lightly kissed my hair. “As long as you need me,” he whispered. I sighed. I wish I could have said something about always needing him, but nothing came to mind.

I was exhausted. I rested my head against Isaiah’s chest, pressed closer to his warmth and closed my eyes peacefully.

And for the first time since he left me, I slipped into sleep not feeling afraid.

 

Reviews

[Bexfinch]

wow it was great but of course i wonder when roy will find out i mean hes a huge butthole that doesnt deseve anyone. good chapter .i shall read on dududuuuu now im off

[hannah]

well. i'm kinda speechless twin,no lie. like holy granola. that was amazing.

[Lorraine]

I don't know if I ought to be happy about their reunion, after all, they're both committing adultery, not that Roy was not worth betraying. Heck, he deserved to be left. The attic has become their private haven. I wonder how long it will take until the same dreaded thing happen again after four years. It seems to me like the two of them are going that familiar road again. This is a romance filled chapter. Very wonderful. I understand why you're so proud of it.

Keep Writing. ^___^

[Taylor H]

it was worth all your effort