Chapter Fifty Seven

||KIT||

†

My birth mother was bipolar.

It was a disorder that made her an emotional wreck and her paranoia had thoroughly convinced her that a great evil was out to get her and her loved ones.

Her mental health only got worse after she gave birth to me but she always had my dad to comfort her and coax her back to sobriety.

He passed when I was still young enough to find endless entertainment in the mobile above my crib.

He was mugged while heading back from a store just a few blocks away from our dingy apartment. His killer was never found and his death was so devastating, it threw my mother into a depression that almost killed her. He was the only person that ever understood her after all, so when he died, she felt she had nothing left to live for.

They found her bleeding out in the bathtub while I was fast asleep in the nursery.

When my mother had recovered from her injuries and was treated for her mental condition, she was able to regain custody of me so she gathered all our things and skipped town immediately, leaving everything and everyone behind.

I spent my earlier years being almost coddled to death by her extreme kind of love that was so suffocating, I ended up turning to books and my own imagination for escape from our one bedroom home out in the middle of nowhere.

She wanted to 'protect' me from the world by not allowing me to interact with it and when I was old enough to sit still for more than five minutes my mother began her conditioning.

Every day for as long as I could remember she would let me watch the news, saying it would remind me how evil society was. All the death and wars, famine and destruction, the dark underbelly of the world we were living in was exposed every night at 7:30 and I was supposed to fear it.

But instead, I grew a kind of indifference for the darker things in life.

They were... expected.

It's kind of funny, actually, how she would always tell me to enjoy my childhood because 'once you lose your inner child there's no hope left for your soul.'

According to her, life would be nothing but pain and sorrow and regret.

She was the very same person who robbed me of my childhood.

But I didn't resent my mother.

I understood why she did the things she did. In life, we were all just winging it and rarely does anyone ever get a second chance. She thought she was right to protect me in such an extreme way.

Thoughts of her are few but I'll always keep the vivid memory of the look on her face that day.

I was almost eight years old, still curious about the outside world I'd never stepped foot into, dreaming of a day when I would be able to do all the things I'd read about in the dusty paperbacks I used to pass the time.

Our house was usually quiet but that night was different.

My mother was manic, the smile on her face so big it was almost scary. She'd turned the radio up, something she would never do, and danced about the cramped living room with a picture of her wedding day.

She'd been visited, she'd said, by my father- in a dream. It wasn't often that she would talk about him so I took the opportunity to ask her questions and after she'd gone on to tell me extensively about the life they'd led together before his death, she continued to dance around the living room while I imagined what it would have been like to have him there with us.

It was her time to join him, she'd said. She was so sure that wherever he was, he was just waiting for her to come to him, and she knew how she would do it.

The problem with living in the middle of nowhere, is that it took the paramedics way too long to get to our house when I was finally able to call 911. When help arrived my mother was already lifeless, lying facedown on the bathroom floor in a pool of her own bloody vomit, the picture still in her grasp.

I watched my mother die that day and felt nothing.

It was just another story for the news team that showed up just after the police did.

After everything, I was placed in foster care and the thing that shocked me the most when I was finally able to experience the outside world, was how utterly boring it was.

Nothing ever really happened. Everyone was just existing and if things were happening, they never seemed to happen to me.

Three years and two foster homes later, I ended up with Sara. She was just the right amount of stern and nurturing to give me the attention I needed to cope with my abandonment issues and made my transition into middleschool an easy one.

She made me see the good that was left in the world and I went from being a quiet brooding kid to an energetic and curious one.

Any darkness that lingered from my past was satiated by horror movies and docu-series, with the real horrors locked away in a vault in the darkest reaches of my mind.

My mother was sick but I loved her no less.

Masky is sick too.

And so am I.

I'd destroyed every truly good thing I ever had and in the end it wasn't worth the effort. I was living a delusion, just like she was.

Maybe things were supposed to end this way. A tragedy, just like Zalgo had said.

I looked down at the peach colored tablet in my hand, rolling it around and watching a tinge of its color transfer to the skin of my palm that was wet with tears.

Pain, sorrow and regret were all my life had boiled down to at this point.

Mother was right.

I lifted my head and tossed the pill into my open mouth. The bitter taste stuck to my tastebuds and I washed it down with saliva, my bloodshot eyes now focused on the door before me.

I had locked it after retrieving the bottle of pills. By the time Masky got back it would be too late for him to stop me. I'd already made up my mind.

I'd spent so much time crying in the shower that my fingertips were pruney and a dull ache was steadily building behind my eyesockets.

Had I become my mother? She would always spend an extended amount of time crying in the bathroom with the door locked and the shower running.

I could still see her face in my mind even now. The way she smiled when she thought of putting an end to her suffering.

I could never fault her for wanting to escape a reality she couldn't be content with.

Not when I felt the same way right now.

Two more pills went down the hatch and when a wave of confidence surged through me, a handful more followed. I was starting to feel queasy, the bitter taste of the pills was sickening but I continued to swallow more.

At least my mother knew real love before she died.

At least her actions were noble.

At least she'd died for someone who loved her as much as she deserved instead of someone who made her feel like she wasn't worth anything.

I could only feel a deep sense of shame for all the evil I'd done. There was nothing noble about it. Now, like a coward, I was taking the easy way out.

A few more pills and I was drooling, saliva pouring out of my mouth like the bathtub faucet I'd left on to drown out the sounds of my despair. I sat with my back pressed against the cold tiles, my knees up against my chest as I hugged them.

I was naked and shivering, hardly able to open my eyes because the bright lights above me were distorting my vision. Wisps of black smoke seemed to dance all around me as darkness ate at the edges of my peripheral, closing in.

I don't want to exist anymore. If this torture was the only thing I had to look forward to then I'd rather disappear.

I doubt I'll ever see my parents again but I felt a kind of closeness to them even now and I was comforted.

My vision went dark for what felt like a long time and when I opened my eyes my heart lurched in my chest at the feel of wetness under me while the heavy sound of something beating against the bathroom door caused an extra pang of fear to settle in my bones.

A white-hot pain sliced through my abdomen and I groaned, doubling over on the flooded bathroom floor and clutching my stomach.

My vision faded in and out for a few seconds and when I squinted up at the open doorway, a dark shape moved swiftly into the room.

They came closer and I heard the sloshing of water as they waded in to stoop down next to me. I was grabbed up into their arms and I felt a warm body against my back.

My mouth was forcefully opened and two fingers invaded my throat, stimulating the base of my tongue and causing me to gag, forcing the bitter tasting pills back up my esophagus.

I was coughing and struggling against the body under me but they kept me in place and eventually I tasted the pizza I'd eaten earlier.

The fingers continued their work until I had emptied all the contents of my stomach and was left dry heaving, my body shaking uncontrollably from the stress it was under.

After a while, when it was apparent I could no longer expel anything from my stomach, the fingers retreated.

Tears were blurring my vision and the rancid smell as well as the bitter taste on my tongue was enough to make me want to wretch again.

I could only imagine how the person under me felt.

I coughed violently, blinking away the tears and when my vision cleared I was looking up at Masky's uncovered face, his mask pushed up onto the top of his head.

The look in his eyes spoke volumes.

"You stupid fucking..." His voice was low and when I tried to croak out a response he pulled me against him, tucking my arms into my own body as he held me there.

We lay like that on the floor for a while as the bathtub continued to overflow and the dizziness began to wane.

"You never said it," he said after a while and I tilted my head to look at him.

"The safe word," he explained, "you never said yellow."

I bit into my lower lip, unsure of what to say.

He was right.

At any moment I could've said it to stop the torture but I was an idiot because I forgot. I forgot the very word that I put in place for my own safety, but whose fault was that?

After a few seconds Masky heaved a sigh and I thought I heard him sob softly.

"You can't leave me, Kit."

I lifted my head to look at his face and my chest tightened.

His bloody hands shook when he caressed my face and a tear slipped down my cheek, "you scared the fuck out of me."

"I'm sorry," I whispered despite my sore throat.

He didn't speak and after a while he gathered me into his arms, getting to his feet.

He kicked out of his shoes and walked over to the flooding bathtub, stepping into the warm water with his clothes still on. Water poured over the sides of the tub as he sat with me still clinging to him for support.

Turning the tap off, he rested his head against the back of the tub with his eyes closed and a sigh left his lips.

I didn't know what to say.

When I reached a hand out to touch his heavily scarred chest, he caught my wrist and pulled me forward against his body.

His eyes opened to meet mine and I looked away almost immediately but he caught my chin and turned my face to his, "why did you do that?"

I felt my eyes fill with fresh tears.

That face he was making- it wasn't like him.

He looked so defeated and his eyes bore into mine, searching, "did I push too far this time?"

When I failed to respond he continued, "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Kit."

He was... apologizing?

"I fucked up. I'm fucked up," he grabbed my hands and brought them to his lips, kissing my fingertips while his own hands shook uncontrollably, "I can't lose you. I need you, okay? I need you here."

The tears that were building up finally spilled over and rolled down my cheeks when a sob escaped my lips, and I threw my arms around him, nuzzling my face in the crook of his neck.

"I'm sorry too. I don't know what I was thinking I just-"

"No," his large hands rubbed a trail down my back, "it's my fault."

I was sobbing against him, my fingers digging into his soggy clothes as he kept his arms wrapped around me like a protective cage.

"I don't want to lose you."

"You won't."

"But I'm being selfish. I don't deserve you," his words caused me to lift my head and I looked into his eyes, wrapping my arms around his neck.

"Yes you do."

His fingers dug into my waist, "Not with the things I want to do to you."

"Timothy," when his eyes met mine I forced a smile onto my face despite the fact that it was streaked with tears, "do you care about me?"

"I do."

"And I care about you too-"

"You shouldn't," he cut me off, clamping a hand over my mouth, "I should have left you alone the night we met."

Using both hands, I pulled his hand away from my mouth, "you don't mean that!"

"I do."

I furrowed my brows, upset, "well I'm glad you came back for me."

"Come on, let's be honest," he scoffed, resting his head against the tub again and closing his eyes, "you don't need me at all. I ruined your life remember?"

Yeah, I did say that, didn't I?

"I didn't mean it."

"You did. You always do."

"How come you believed me when I said that but not when I said I love you?"

I pulled my lower lip between my teeth when he cracked an eye open and when he came forward, a stony look in his eyes, I hastily wrapped my arms around him again, burying my face in his neck.

He stiffened at first before he finally decided to relax, going back to resting against the tub while his arms were around me, "sorry."

"You're okay," I toyed with the hair at his nape and he let out a soft groan, pulling my body against his tightly.

"I want to be inside you."

My fingers stilled at his words and as proof of his statement, he lightly thrusted up against my middle where I was straddling him.

The butterflies were back.

"Masky?" I pulled away to look him in the eyes, "you can't solve everything with sex."

"Sure you can," he pressed himself up against me some more and I shook my head.

"I'm happy just being here with you."

He watched me silently for a moment before he opened his arms and with a smile I accepted his embrace.

This was... progress.

After a while, being in his arms calmed my rioting hormones and I was able to just enjoy the feel of his toned body under mine, his heart thudding steadily against my own chest.

He'd saved me again. This time, from doing something so stupid I couldn't believe I had even tried it in the first place.

What had I hoped to accomplish?

It was a cowardly move, taking the easy way out.

When I lifted my head and tried to distance myself from him, he held me in place and pressed his lips against mine.

I quickly turned my head away from the kiss.

No way am I kissing him after I just barfed up a whole pharmacy.

He came forward, forcing me to retreat, but not fast enough. He caught my waist and even more water sloshed over the side of the tub as I fought to keep him from kissing me.

He stopped when a giggle escaped my lips.

"You're laughing?"

I folded my lips to keep from laughing, but lost it again at the confused look on his face.

"I just threw up."

"I know. I was there."

"And you're trying to kiss me."

"So?"

"So it's gross-"

His grip on my waist tightened and he pulled me up against his body, looking into my eyes, "no it's not. I'd kiss you regardless."

I slammed his mask down over his face when he started to lean in again in a move to kiss me.

"After I get cleaned up, please."

He sighed deeply and released me, getting to his feet as water poured from his wet clothes.

He stepped out of the bathtub and as he peeled off his clothes I sunk into the water with a relieved sigh.

×××

"What's your favorite color?"

"I don't have one."

I scrunched up my face a bit, "thought you were kidding about that."

"I don't kid."

I giggled and adjusted my position on Masky's chest. We were in bed with me laying on top of him as his large hands drew abstract patterns over the exposed skin of my back.

I'd been asking him questions for at least an hour now and his annoyance was starting to show.

"What were your parents like?" I asked, poking at his nose as he lay with an arm behind his head in a makeshift pillow and his eyes closed, his long lashes fanning his cheeks.

He shifted a bit under me and I felt his hands move southward, his fingers digging into the bare skin of my ass, causing slight tingles to run up and down my spine.

"Neglectful."

I waited for him to elaborate but he didn't.

"You're great at communicating you know? Almost as good as Brian."

"That's it," he grunted and I found myself pinned under him in an instant, his deep brown eyes gazing into mine.

I giggled, smiling up at him, "I have one final question before you kill me."

I saw the corner of his lips twitch upwards in a slight smile, "yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Go ahead then."

I chewed on my lower lip, my eyes glancing toward the wall where the boxes had been stacked to hide the portrait he'd dug into it.

Looking back at him, I smiled again, "why did you draw me?"

His lips pressed into a firm line and he turned his head to look in the direction of the artwork in question before he turned back to look at me.

"I don't know."

My smile fell, "What?"

"I don't remember doing that," he caressed my cheek, passing his thumb over my lips, "happens sometimes."

How convenient.

I'd hoped to find out how he really felt about me. Guess it will continue to remain a mystery.

His lips parted as he slid a thumb into my mouth, "are you disappointed?"

I could only nod and he leaned in, using his thumb to open my mouth.

"I think it should be obvious why I did though," he slid his thumb out of my mouth and pressed his lips against mine.

I kissed back, knitting my fingers into his thick hair the instant he slid his tongue against mine.

The kiss was feverish and sloppy as our tongues entwined and his fingers dug into my waist tightly. My mind was reeling, thoughts barely making it to the forefront as the only thing I could think about was how good it felt to kiss him. When he finally broke away to look down at me with a sultry expression on his face, eyes narrowed and lips parted, my chest was heaving.

"Timothy," I pulled him down, trying to press my lips against his again but he kept his distance.

"Kit-" he groaned and I watched his brows draw together.

My own brows furrowed at the pained expression on his face, "what's wrong?"

"I don't think I can do this."

I was even more confused now, "I-I don't understand."

"I can never give you a normal life," he used a hand to caress my cheek, "you should think wisely before you decide to be with me."

I smiled a bit, relieved.

The fact that he cared about what I wanted was a stepup from the Masky who only focused on his own needs.

"I'll always choose you," I spoke confidently.

"You're only going to get hurt if you do."

"I don't think so," I smiled warmly at him, "I think you care about me too much to really hurt me."

"I did before."

I managed to pull him down, pressing my forehead against his as I looked into his eyes, "I love you. I want to be with you."