Table of Contents [Report This]
Hi again - I forgot to include a disclaimer in my story. Would you throw in the standard junk for me? I don't own these characters, they're the property of NBC, Steven Long Mitchell, blah, blah, blah.
The Tenth Commandment
Dominatrix
Some nights, I still miss him so much it hurts. I don’t mean the emotional heartache – that’s always there. I mean the physical, gut-wrenching grief that won’t go away. The double-you-up, take-away-your-breath, leave-you-sobbing-in-your-drink kind.
I was having one of those nights.
I climbed out of the shower, where I’d let the water wash away my tears, then started to put on my pajamas.
Thomas hated those pajamas, and I smiled, imagining him telling me so. They didn’t do my body justice, he said.
„OK, Tommy," I whispered.
Dropping the pajamas to the floor, I padded out of the bathroom and over to my dresser. I slid open the top drawer and a sliver of red caught my eye. It was the gown he’d given me. The red silk nightgown, sheer as a morning dream, held up by the thinnest of sexy little straps. Discreetly lacy in front, plunging in the back. I drew it out of the drawer slowly, then slipping it over my head I let it whisper down my body, barely feeling its fluid caress on my curves.
I turned to stare at myself in the mirror – the red of the gown matched the color of my eyeballs. Why was I doing this to myself?
Sighing, I pulled my black robe on over the gown and went to the kitchen for another drink. One, maybe two more and I’d be happily blitzed, groggy enough to finally forget my troubled heart and slip into a foggy sleep. It was the best I could hope for.
I poured the Scotch and came back to my seat in front of the fire. Thomas’ shirt was there where I’d left it earlier, its scent slowly fading along with my vision of his smile, my remembrance of his voice.
Pressing the flannel to my face, I inhaled deeply and conjured him again, imagined him sitting opposite me on the couch, taking my bare foot between his big, strong, callused hands to rub my tension away. He would smile at me just so when I sighed with pleasure, and he’d say…
„Miss Parker… mind if I join you?"
Huh? It took a split second to register that the sound had not come from my own imagination.
„God!" I croaked, gasping and jerking around to face the intruder, instantly aware that my gun was out of reach.
Jarod.
„I’m sorry," he said gently, his hand outstretched. „I didn’t mean to scare you." He eased around the corner of the sofa and perched across from me gingerly, his body language appeasing. „But you didn’t answer the door."
„So you just let yourself in…" I snarled. „You’ve got quite the nerve tonight."
I could have told him to get out, could have reached for my cell phone, made a dash for my revolver… but I didn’t.
His eyes slowly wandered from my face to the shirt clutched in my lap, then he turned toward the fire and sighed, leaning forward to clasp his hands together, rest his elbows on his knees. I watched him, noticing that he looked rather pale, his face somber and drawn.
I felt myself relax a little, my curiosity rise.
„Well?" I prompted. „To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit? Or do I have to guess?"
He shook his head, looked up at me again. „I need to talk to you. There’s something I have to say. And I couldn’t say it over the phone."
I glowered at him. „What if I don’t want to hear it?"
„You probably don’t," he replied. He turned back to the fire. „But I need to tell someone. I can’t keep it inside."
„It’s haunting me," he said, and it was almost a whisper.
„Well, you’ve got the shrink’s number. I’m no therapist."
„Sydney can’t help me with this." He scowled at the fireplace, and I could see the muscles in his jaw tensing and relaxing. Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath. „It’s about Thomas."
We sat there in silence for a few moments, the only sound that of the crackling oak log on the fire. He didn’t look at me.
„So talk," I finally said quietly. „I’ll listen."
„I didn’t tell you everything about Thomas and me," he said. „I only told you part of the story."
Oh, God, I thought. What is he going to tell me now? That Thomas was some kind of Pretender? That he and Thomas were lovers? That Brigitte didn’t actually kill him? The possibilities were endless, most of them nothing I wanted to entertain.
He took another deep breath, looked up the ceiling, blinking hard.
„I feel responsible for Thomas’ death," he finally said.
I should have guessed.
My heart softened, and I reached over and clasped his wrist gently. Of course. Jarod was good at feeling responsible for the world’s problems. It figures he would blame himself for one more. After all, it was he who brought Thomas and I together.
„Jarod," I said firmly, „You may have started the ball rolling, but what happened to Thomas was not your fault. The Centre killed Thomas. Brigitte killed Thomas. Not you. You brought together two people who loved each other, and were willing to take the risks involved."
He gave a bitter little laugh. „I should have known what The Centre would do to someone you loved – someone who had the power to take you away, make you happy."
I watched the fire reflecting in his dark eyes, the flames leaping and jumping; the way the light played around the hollows of his cheekbones, his jaw.
„But that’s only one reason I blame myself," he murmured.
Running the soft flannel of Thomas’ shirt between my fingers, I stared at Jarod and waited for him to continue.
„It makes no logical sense, Parker. I keep telling myself that. But I can’t help the way I feel. The way I felt." His voice had grown deep, thick with emotion.
„I wanted Thomas to die."
„What?" I breathed.
Jarod visibly shook, grabbed his head and ran his fingers roughly through his slick hair. „Please hear me out Parker," he pled without looking at me. „I know how it sounds, but I need you to hear me."
I answered him with silence, and he took that as permission to begin his sordid tale.
„When I first met Thomas on the construction site, I liked him immediately," he said. „Thomas was a man of integrity – I could see that. Honest, trustworthy, caring, compassionate. We became friends, and soon he was helping me with my pretend. Together we saw to it that the foreman and company owner were brought to justice for the death of one of the workers, and that his family was properly compensated."
„Go on," I murmured impatiently. This wasn’t anything new.
„I continued to keep in touch with Thomas after that pretend, and saw him occasionally. But it wasn’t just a casual friendship – there was something deeper for me. At the time I couldn’t see what it was – I just knew I felt compelled to talk to him, see him, find out more about his life. My feelings about him were strangely mixed – at times I felt closer to him than a brother, and at other times I felt angry with him, confused, threatened – for no apparent reason. Of course, I never let him see it."
„When I set the two of you up, it was almost on a whim," Jarod continued. „We were laughing about how Thomas liked to take on impossible projects, including women, and I said ‘I’ve got a project for you.’ Before I knew it, I was telling him about you."
I smiled in spite of myself. „What did you tell him?" I asked
„The truth," he said, giving me a sad, sideways smile. „Edited, of course. I don’t think Thomas believed me at first. He asked me why, if you were so great, I didn’t want to be with you myself."
I looked away, feeling a flush creeping up into my face. This was too weird.
„I told him where he could run into you ‘accidentally,’ and what he should say. He took my advice, and when you took the bait he was so excited," Jarod said, smiling at the memory.
He glanced at me, then waved his hand. „But you already know all that."
He was quiet for a moment, staring into the fire, then his face darkened ominously.
„I began calling Thomas every few days after that," he went on softly. „He told me how much he liked you. He told me about your first night together. And your second, and your third. He said he didn’t like to ‘kiss and tell,’ but he told anyway. He told me about your fights, dinner with your family, taking you dancing and out to dinner, to the Poconos for the weekend. Thomas was new in town and didn’t have a lot of friends here yet; he enjoyed having someone to talk to. And I’m a very good listener."
I just stared at Jarod, not wanting to believe what I was hearing. How much exactly did Thomas tell him? How many juicy details of my love life were stored in Jarod’s head like so many images on a DSA file?
„He told me he was falling in love with you. And that he knew you loved him too, even though you couldn’t say it."
Here Jarod paused, fidgeted, then closed his eyes.
„One day, he told me he didn’t want to talk about certain things anymore. That he didn’t think it was fair to you. He felt guilty about violating your privacy. I told him I understood, but…"
I leaned toward him, breathless, my heart in my throat. „But what?" I pressed.
Jarod grimaced. „But I didn’t care. I wanted to hear more. I needed to hear more. I showed up at his house one night, when I knew you were at The Centre. He was glad to see me, and I took him to a bar and bought him a beer or two… or three. Pretty soon he was telling me whatever I wanted to hear. But I didn’t… I didn’t really want to hear it after all."
„Oh… my… God," I muttered, incredulous.
„I didn’t sleep at all that night," Jarod went on. „I didn’t know what the hell was wrong with me. I was appalled at my behavior, but I felt powerless to stop…"
He faltered momentarily, then continued carefully, voice low and throaty.
„The next night, I found myself parked down the street from his house. I watched him get in the car around 8 pm, and I followed him – to your house, of course. I parked a distance away and walked through the woods in the dusk, until I came out on the hillside looking into your bedroom."
„I stopped there in the shadows; there was a light on in your window, and I could see inside…"
Jarod sat up straighter on the couch, his eyes still closed.
„I’m kneeling on the ground," he said slowly, as if he could see the events replaying on the inside of his eyelids, „and it’s cold, but I can hardly feel it. I’m looking across the yard into your bedroom window, and I can see you inside, standing in front of your mirror. You’re putting on a short, black dress and struggling with the zipper. Your head turns and you shout something, then Thomas comes into the room, smiling. He reaches for the zipper, but instead of zipping the dress up, he pulls the zipper back down. You punch him playfully, then he pulls a package out from behind his back and hands it to you. I can read his lips from here. ‘We might want to skip dinner,’ he says."
I remembered the night, and the memory made me want to smile – but the fact that Jarod was recounting the story… I felt cold all over. I wanted to make him stop, but I couldn’t. It was too interesting – and too creepy at the same time.
„You open the package, and it’s a nightgown – lovely, red… very sheer. You smile wickedly, and Thomas steps closer and helps you undress again and put the gown on. You look… amazing."
I realized Jarod was now leaning forward, his breath coming faster. I suddenly had a mental image of him kneeling in the moss and leaves in the damp, dusky silence of the forest, slowly unzipping his fly.
„You undress Thomas, then the two of you fall onto the bed and begin to make love."
„And you’re watching?" I hissed.
„I know I shouldn’t be," he said anxiously, eyes still closed. „I know it’s wrong. I don’t even want to see. But I can’t help myself. I can’t get up. I can’t move..."
Jarod clenched his fists atop his thighs, let his head fall back slightly as his face lit with bliss.
„You’re making love… so beautiful," he breathed. „You move like a cat, and he’s so powerful, and he’s doing… just what I would do. Every stroke, every caress, every kiss… it’s perfect. I know just what to do next, and he does it. I can see his every move before he makes it. I can feel your lips on my throat, your nails on my back…the silky fabric of the gown…"
I was mesmerized… mortified. Here he was sliding into a sim in my living room, and the subject was me… no, Thomas – making love to me. I sat there open mouthed as he grabbed his crotch quickly and adjusted himself, completely oblivious.
„Stop!" I said, finally finding my voice. „Stop, Jarod!"
He gasped softly, startled, and stared around the room a minute, disoriented. Then his eyes fell on me again. Those fathomless, dark eyes.
I could barely speak around the lump in my throat. I was sickened, aroused beyond belief, nearly shaking with emotion. „Make your point and get the fuck out," I ground out, my voice breaking.
His eyes suddenly brimmed with tears, one of which escaped down his left cheek, where he angrily wiped it away. „I’m sorry," he croaked, his face flushing. He jumped up and took a few agitated strides around the room, trying to compose himself.
„I’m sorry, Miss Parker… don’t you see? I realized that night – I didn’t want to just be near Thomas, I wanted to BE Thomas. I saw in Thomas what my life could have been. I want to be ‘normal,’ I want to be free to live my life, I want to fall in love and make plans and have a family if I choose…"
Jarod ran a shaky hand through his dark hair and inhaled loudly. „I want those things. Thomas could have had those things," he said angrily. „That night, Thomas was in your warm bed surrounded by every possibility in the world, and I was outside in the cold, alone. As always. And part of me hated him for it."
„You were jealous after all," I breathed, in complete shock.
„Call it what you want," he snapped, turning away. He walked to the window and looked out, then sighed, his shoulders slumping. „All I know is, I betrayed my friend. I knew that The Centre was investigating him at that point, but I chose not to do anything about it. I stopped calling, went far away, started another pretend. Anything to ease the pain. I told myself I didn’t care what happened."
„Jarod, I’m not stupid," I said quietly. „I knew they were investigating Thomas, too. My father bribed him to leave me, for God’s sake!"
„You were in denial."
„Yes, I was. And that’s my fault and my fault only. I never told Thomas what he was truly up against. I never gave him the chance to protect himself."
„I couldn’t even stand to see you grieving for him," Jarod groaned. „Or I would have stayed around. I would have helped you find his killer."
„You DID help me, Jarod."
Jarod shook his head, his back to me. „I could have done so much more. I could have saved his life." He gasped raggedly, then let out a sob.
I got up and went to him, stood behind him at the window, barely holding back my own tears. I didn’t know whether to hug him or choke him. „Jarod," I demanded. „Why are you telling me this? What do you want from me?"
„What I want I don’t deserve," he growled. „I just want you to forgive me. I just want… but what good would it do now? I don’t know if I can forgive myself. I’m not the person I thought I was. I’m…" He whirled suddenly and looked at me. „I’m hurting you again just telling you all this. It was selfish of me to come here. I’m so sorry, Miss Parker."
He brushed past me and headed towards the door, swiping the tears from his face. I don’t know what propelled me after him, but I followed, and just as his hand reached the knob I cried, „Wait!"
He stopped and slowly turned back to me, his eyes full of pain and fear.
And I saw that Jarod, warped as he was, felt he deserved anything he got at that moment. That somewhere along the line, someone had impressed upon a child’s guilty heart that to envy others’ freedom was deviant and evil, and that his jealous emotions could actually kill those he cared about. Had I dragged him back to The Centre then and there, he would have felt it just punishment for breaking the Tenth Commandment.
As for my part, I could have easily faced him with a loaded gun – or my justifiable rage at his voyeurism. Instead, the strangest thing happened.
A feeling of peace suddenly came over me, actually seemed to permeate the whole room, like a fog rolling in off the sea. It buoyed me, soothed me, became almost palpable in its intensity – soft and translucent as poppy petals, or the silk of my gown. It was a gift of grace, from somewhere out there beyond my self.
I felt my heart opening, and all my aching need and loneliness rush to the surface, ready to be purged.
„I do forgive you," I told him gently. „Though I really don’t think you need to be forgiven for being human. I don’t blame you for this, Jarod. For any of this. On the contrary, I’m forever grateful to you."
„And I think…" I continued, „that Thomas forgives you too."
„How do you know?" Jarod whispered.
„Because a little voice told me it was time to wear this."
I smiled and opened my robe, letting the black silk fall from my shoulders to reveal the red gown.
END
Feedback please
Dominatrix
Some nights, I still miss him so much it hurts. I don’t mean the emotional heartache – that’s always there. I mean the physical, gut-wrenching grief that won’t go away. The double-you-up, take-away-your-breath, leave-you-sobbing-in-your-drink kind.
I was having one of those nights.
I climbed out of the shower, where I’d let the water wash away my tears, then started to put on my pajamas.
Thomas hated those pajamas, and I smiled, imagining him telling me so. They didn’t do my body justice, he said.
„OK, Tommy," I whispered.
Dropping the pajamas to the floor, I padded out of the bathroom and over to my dresser. I slid open the top drawer and a sliver of red caught my eye. It was the gown he’d given me. The red silk nightgown, sheer as a morning dream, held up by the thinnest of sexy little straps. Discreetly lacy in front, plunging in the back. I drew it out of the drawer slowly, then slipping it over my head I let it whisper down my body, barely feeling its fluid caress on my curves.
I turned to stare at myself in the mirror – the red of the gown matched the color of my eyeballs. Why was I doing this to myself?
Sighing, I pulled my black robe on over the gown and went to the kitchen for another drink. One, maybe two more and I’d be happily blitzed, groggy enough to finally forget my troubled heart and slip into a foggy sleep. It was the best I could hope for.
I poured the Scotch and came back to my seat in front of the fire. Thomas’ shirt was there where I’d left it earlier, its scent slowly fading along with my vision of his smile, my remembrance of his voice.
Pressing the flannel to my face, I inhaled deeply and conjured him again, imagined him sitting opposite me on the couch, taking my bare foot between his big, strong, callused hands to rub my tension away. He would smile at me just so when I sighed with pleasure, and he’d say…
„Miss Parker… mind if I join you?"
Huh? It took a split second to register that the sound had not come from my own imagination.
„God!" I croaked, gasping and jerking around to face the intruder, instantly aware that my gun was out of reach.
Jarod.
„I’m sorry," he said gently, his hand outstretched. „I didn’t mean to scare you." He eased around the corner of the sofa and perched across from me gingerly, his body language appeasing. „But you didn’t answer the door."
„So you just let yourself in…" I snarled. „You’ve got quite the nerve tonight."
I could have told him to get out, could have reached for my cell phone, made a dash for my revolver… but I didn’t.
His eyes slowly wandered from my face to the shirt clutched in my lap, then he turned toward the fire and sighed, leaning forward to clasp his hands together, rest his elbows on his knees. I watched him, noticing that he looked rather pale, his face somber and drawn.
I felt myself relax a little, my curiosity rise.
„Well?" I prompted. „To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit? Or do I have to guess?"
He shook his head, looked up at me again. „I need to talk to you. There’s something I have to say. And I couldn’t say it over the phone."
I glowered at him. „What if I don’t want to hear it?"
„You probably don’t," he replied. He turned back to the fire. „But I need to tell someone. I can’t keep it inside."
„It’s haunting me," he said, and it was almost a whisper.
„Well, you’ve got the shrink’s number. I’m no therapist."
„Sydney can’t help me with this." He scowled at the fireplace, and I could see the muscles in his jaw tensing and relaxing. Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath. „It’s about Thomas."
We sat there in silence for a few moments, the only sound that of the crackling oak log on the fire. He didn’t look at me.
„So talk," I finally said quietly. „I’ll listen."
„I didn’t tell you everything about Thomas and me," he said. „I only told you part of the story."
Oh, God, I thought. What is he going to tell me now? That Thomas was some kind of Pretender? That he and Thomas were lovers? That Brigitte didn’t actually kill him? The possibilities were endless, most of them nothing I wanted to entertain.
He took another deep breath, looked up the ceiling, blinking hard.
„I feel responsible for Thomas’ death," he finally said.
I should have guessed.
My heart softened, and I reached over and clasped his wrist gently. Of course. Jarod was good at feeling responsible for the world’s problems. It figures he would blame himself for one more. After all, it was he who brought Thomas and I together.
„Jarod," I said firmly, „You may have started the ball rolling, but what happened to Thomas was not your fault. The Centre killed Thomas. Brigitte killed Thomas. Not you. You brought together two people who loved each other, and were willing to take the risks involved."
He gave a bitter little laugh. „I should have known what The Centre would do to someone you loved – someone who had the power to take you away, make you happy."
I watched the fire reflecting in his dark eyes, the flames leaping and jumping; the way the light played around the hollows of his cheekbones, his jaw.
„But that’s only one reason I blame myself," he murmured.
Running the soft flannel of Thomas’ shirt between my fingers, I stared at Jarod and waited for him to continue.
„It makes no logical sense, Parker. I keep telling myself that. But I can’t help the way I feel. The way I felt." His voice had grown deep, thick with emotion.
„I wanted Thomas to die."
„What?" I breathed.
Jarod visibly shook, grabbed his head and ran his fingers roughly through his slick hair. „Please hear me out Parker," he pled without looking at me. „I know how it sounds, but I need you to hear me."
I answered him with silence, and he took that as permission to begin his sordid tale.
„When I first met Thomas on the construction site, I liked him immediately," he said. „Thomas was a man of integrity – I could see that. Honest, trustworthy, caring, compassionate. We became friends, and soon he was helping me with my pretend. Together we saw to it that the foreman and company owner were brought to justice for the death of one of the workers, and that his family was properly compensated."
„Go on," I murmured impatiently. This wasn’t anything new.
„I continued to keep in touch with Thomas after that pretend, and saw him occasionally. But it wasn’t just a casual friendship – there was something deeper for me. At the time I couldn’t see what it was – I just knew I felt compelled to talk to him, see him, find out more about his life. My feelings about him were strangely mixed – at times I felt closer to him than a brother, and at other times I felt angry with him, confused, threatened – for no apparent reason. Of course, I never let him see it."
„When I set the two of you up, it was almost on a whim," Jarod continued. „We were laughing about how Thomas liked to take on impossible projects, including women, and I said ‘I’ve got a project for you.’ Before I knew it, I was telling him about you."
I smiled in spite of myself. „What did you tell him?" I asked
„The truth," he said, giving me a sad, sideways smile. „Edited, of course. I don’t think Thomas believed me at first. He asked me why, if you were so great, I didn’t want to be with you myself."
I looked away, feeling a flush creeping up into my face. This was too weird.
„I told him where he could run into you ‘accidentally,’ and what he should say. He took my advice, and when you took the bait he was so excited," Jarod said, smiling at the memory.
He glanced at me, then waved his hand. „But you already know all that."
He was quiet for a moment, staring into the fire, then his face darkened ominously.
„I began calling Thomas every few days after that," he went on softly. „He told me how much he liked you. He told me about your first night together. And your second, and your third. He said he didn’t like to ‘kiss and tell,’ but he told anyway. He told me about your fights, dinner with your family, taking you dancing and out to dinner, to the Poconos for the weekend. Thomas was new in town and didn’t have a lot of friends here yet; he enjoyed having someone to talk to. And I’m a very good listener."
I just stared at Jarod, not wanting to believe what I was hearing. How much exactly did Thomas tell him? How many juicy details of my love life were stored in Jarod’s head like so many images on a DSA file?
„He told me he was falling in love with you. And that he knew you loved him too, even though you couldn’t say it."
Here Jarod paused, fidgeted, then closed his eyes.
„One day, he told me he didn’t want to talk about certain things anymore. That he didn’t think it was fair to you. He felt guilty about violating your privacy. I told him I understood, but…"
I leaned toward him, breathless, my heart in my throat. „But what?" I pressed.
Jarod grimaced. „But I didn’t care. I wanted to hear more. I needed to hear more. I showed up at his house one night, when I knew you were at The Centre. He was glad to see me, and I took him to a bar and bought him a beer or two… or three. Pretty soon he was telling me whatever I wanted to hear. But I didn’t… I didn’t really want to hear it after all."
„Oh… my… God," I muttered, incredulous.
„I didn’t sleep at all that night," Jarod went on. „I didn’t know what the hell was wrong with me. I was appalled at my behavior, but I felt powerless to stop…"
He faltered momentarily, then continued carefully, voice low and throaty.
„The next night, I found myself parked down the street from his house. I watched him get in the car around 8 pm, and I followed him – to your house, of course. I parked a distance away and walked through the woods in the dusk, until I came out on the hillside looking into your bedroom."
„I stopped there in the shadows; there was a light on in your window, and I could see inside…"
Jarod sat up straighter on the couch, his eyes still closed.
„I’m kneeling on the ground," he said slowly, as if he could see the events replaying on the inside of his eyelids, „and it’s cold, but I can hardly feel it. I’m looking across the yard into your bedroom window, and I can see you inside, standing in front of your mirror. You’re putting on a short, black dress and struggling with the zipper. Your head turns and you shout something, then Thomas comes into the room, smiling. He reaches for the zipper, but instead of zipping the dress up, he pulls the zipper back down. You punch him playfully, then he pulls a package out from behind his back and hands it to you. I can read his lips from here. ‘We might want to skip dinner,’ he says."
I remembered the night, and the memory made me want to smile – but the fact that Jarod was recounting the story… I felt cold all over. I wanted to make him stop, but I couldn’t. It was too interesting – and too creepy at the same time.
„You open the package, and it’s a nightgown – lovely, red… very sheer. You smile wickedly, and Thomas steps closer and helps you undress again and put the gown on. You look… amazing."
I realized Jarod was now leaning forward, his breath coming faster. I suddenly had a mental image of him kneeling in the moss and leaves in the damp, dusky silence of the forest, slowly unzipping his fly.
„You undress Thomas, then the two of you fall onto the bed and begin to make love."
„And you’re watching?" I hissed.
„I know I shouldn’t be," he said anxiously, eyes still closed. „I know it’s wrong. I don’t even want to see. But I can’t help myself. I can’t get up. I can’t move..."
Jarod clenched his fists atop his thighs, let his head fall back slightly as his face lit with bliss.
„You’re making love… so beautiful," he breathed. „You move like a cat, and he’s so powerful, and he’s doing… just what I would do. Every stroke, every caress, every kiss… it’s perfect. I know just what to do next, and he does it. I can see his every move before he makes it. I can feel your lips on my throat, your nails on my back…the silky fabric of the gown…"
I was mesmerized… mortified. Here he was sliding into a sim in my living room, and the subject was me… no, Thomas – making love to me. I sat there open mouthed as he grabbed his crotch quickly and adjusted himself, completely oblivious.
„Stop!" I said, finally finding my voice. „Stop, Jarod!"
He gasped softly, startled, and stared around the room a minute, disoriented. Then his eyes fell on me again. Those fathomless, dark eyes.
I could barely speak around the lump in my throat. I was sickened, aroused beyond belief, nearly shaking with emotion. „Make your point and get the fuck out," I ground out, my voice breaking.
His eyes suddenly brimmed with tears, one of which escaped down his left cheek, where he angrily wiped it away. „I’m sorry," he croaked, his face flushing. He jumped up and took a few agitated strides around the room, trying to compose himself.
„I’m sorry, Miss Parker… don’t you see? I realized that night – I didn’t want to just be near Thomas, I wanted to BE Thomas. I saw in Thomas what my life could have been. I want to be ‘normal,’ I want to be free to live my life, I want to fall in love and make plans and have a family if I choose…"
Jarod ran a shaky hand through his dark hair and inhaled loudly. „I want those things. Thomas could have had those things," he said angrily. „That night, Thomas was in your warm bed surrounded by every possibility in the world, and I was outside in the cold, alone. As always. And part of me hated him for it."
„You were jealous after all," I breathed, in complete shock.
„Call it what you want," he snapped, turning away. He walked to the window and looked out, then sighed, his shoulders slumping. „All I know is, I betrayed my friend. I knew that The Centre was investigating him at that point, but I chose not to do anything about it. I stopped calling, went far away, started another pretend. Anything to ease the pain. I told myself I didn’t care what happened."
„Jarod, I’m not stupid," I said quietly. „I knew they were investigating Thomas, too. My father bribed him to leave me, for God’s sake!"
„You were in denial."
„Yes, I was. And that’s my fault and my fault only. I never told Thomas what he was truly up against. I never gave him the chance to protect himself."
„I couldn’t even stand to see you grieving for him," Jarod groaned. „Or I would have stayed around. I would have helped you find his killer."
„You DID help me, Jarod."
Jarod shook his head, his back to me. „I could have done so much more. I could have saved his life." He gasped raggedly, then let out a sob.
I got up and went to him, stood behind him at the window, barely holding back my own tears. I didn’t know whether to hug him or choke him. „Jarod," I demanded. „Why are you telling me this? What do you want from me?"
„What I want I don’t deserve," he growled. „I just want you to forgive me. I just want… but what good would it do now? I don’t know if I can forgive myself. I’m not the person I thought I was. I’m…" He whirled suddenly and looked at me. „I’m hurting you again just telling you all this. It was selfish of me to come here. I’m so sorry, Miss Parker."
He brushed past me and headed towards the door, swiping the tears from his face. I don’t know what propelled me after him, but I followed, and just as his hand reached the knob I cried, „Wait!"
He stopped and slowly turned back to me, his eyes full of pain and fear.
And I saw that Jarod, warped as he was, felt he deserved anything he got at that moment. That somewhere along the line, someone had impressed upon a child’s guilty heart that to envy others’ freedom was deviant and evil, and that his jealous emotions could actually kill those he cared about. Had I dragged him back to The Centre then and there, he would have felt it just punishment for breaking the Tenth Commandment.
As for my part, I could have easily faced him with a loaded gun – or my justifiable rage at his voyeurism. Instead, the strangest thing happened.
A feeling of peace suddenly came over me, actually seemed to permeate the whole room, like a fog rolling in off the sea. It buoyed me, soothed me, became almost palpable in its intensity – soft and translucent as poppy petals, or the silk of my gown. It was a gift of grace, from somewhere out there beyond my self.
I felt my heart opening, and all my aching need and loneliness rush to the surface, ready to be purged.
„I do forgive you," I told him gently. „Though I really don’t think you need to be forgiven for being human. I don’t blame you for this, Jarod. For any of this. On the contrary, I’m forever grateful to you."
„And I think…" I continued, „that Thomas forgives you too."
„How do you know?" Jarod whispered.
„Because a little voice told me it was time to wear this."
I smiled and opened my robe, letting the black silk fall from my shoulders to reveal the red gown.
END
Feedback please
