about me." Dmitry pulled her up on the pillow and snuggled his head in her breasts. He closed his eyes and sighed. "What about you?"
"What about me?"
"Tell me something that no one else knows?"
"Only if you do."
"You first."
"Umm. I keep empty picture frames in my dresser drawers, hoping to put family pictures in them one day."
"Tell me something important," he said, scoffing at her light response. "There has to be a secret that you keep from everyone, something dark that you don't want anyone in the world to know." Dmitry spoke as if he had many.
"Okay, okay," she sighed and looked up at the soft linen above her in the canopy swaying under the force of the ceiling fan. Her carefree smile turned into a frown. "Some secrets are meant to be kept though."
"What could you have done? You're just a girl. I'm sure it couldn't have been too bad."
"Don't be so sure," she replied solemnly, forgetting to sneer at the girl statement.
"Well, I would hope that if you gave me something as precious as your virginity, you could trust me with a secret—no matter how big it is."
"It's really awful, actually," she said, wiping her face quickly. "Horrible, in fact."
"If you tell me that you were born a man or that you were once a whore, then it'll be horrible, because I'll be forced to kill you."
"Of course, I was born a girl." She laughed a little in between the sudden sorrow. "And the proof my virginity is by the door." She motioned over at the comforter.
Dmitry looked over at the comforter. "Speaking of which, are you hurting still?" He rubbed face. "I could give you hot bath. It would make the aching go away."
"No," Royal yawned. "I'm just tired."
"Well then, back to your secret then."
Royal hesitated. "I've never told anyone."
"Then, I should be the one to know. Go on," he said, urging her.
"Fine. I...shot a man once." She held her breath as the words fell clumsily out of her mouth. It was strange for her to hear, even after years of living with it. She waited for him to say something, anything.
Dmitry's eyes opened. Shifting his long body a little, he looked up at her. "You'd better explain that one to me," he said in a deep raspy voice. His crystal blue eyes beamed through her, waiting. A small smile crept across his full lips. Could it be that he was amused?
"When I was fourteen, one of my foster parents' friends used to come over a lot. He was a truck driver, and when he was in town, he would always stay at their house. He was a real...funky looking guy, wiry beard and looked like he never washed. My foster parents would let him sleep in the den on the couch. He'd watch porno while everyone was sleep. He was a real dirt bag.
"One night when it was really late, while I was gone with some of my friends, he snuck in my sister's room and raped her. She was real quiet, you know. Plus, she was super skinny. It wouldn't have been hard for him to overpower her. She didn't tell anyone—probably thought no one would believe her. Then the signs started to show. You know... more weight, sick all the time, sleeping all the time. I got nosy and suspicious.
"When she finally confessed to me what was going on, I was... on fire. You see, he would have never gone after me. I was the loud mouth, the bad kid. I would have fought. I always did," she smiled. "So I waited for him and the next time that he was in town, I followed him up to the truck stop and when nightfall came, I snuck into his cabin, seduced him and shot him to death with his own gun. I wanted to stab him; I even brought my own kitchen knife, but the gun was there. In a rage, I just grabbed it, when he had his pants down." She let the tears fall. "I donno. I wish that I could take it back sometimes."
"Damn," Dmitry sighed. "I didn't know that you had any
"What about me?"
"Tell me something that no one else knows?"
"Only if you do."
"You first."
"Umm. I keep empty picture frames in my dresser drawers, hoping to put family pictures in them one day."
"Tell me something important," he said, scoffing at her light response. "There has to be a secret that you keep from everyone, something dark that you don't want anyone in the world to know." Dmitry spoke as if he had many.
"Okay, okay," she sighed and looked up at the soft linen above her in the canopy swaying under the force of the ceiling fan. Her carefree smile turned into a frown. "Some secrets are meant to be kept though."
"What could you have done? You're just a girl. I'm sure it couldn't have been too bad."
"Don't be so sure," she replied solemnly, forgetting to sneer at the girl statement.
"Well, I would hope that if you gave me something as precious as your virginity, you could trust me with a secret—no matter how big it is."
"It's really awful, actually," she said, wiping her face quickly. "Horrible, in fact."
"If you tell me that you were born a man or that you were once a whore, then it'll be horrible, because I'll be forced to kill you."
"Of course, I was born a girl." She laughed a little in between the sudden sorrow. "And the proof my virginity is by the door." She motioned over at the comforter.
Dmitry looked over at the comforter. "Speaking of which, are you hurting still?" He rubbed face. "I could give you hot bath. It would make the aching go away."
"No," Royal yawned. "I'm just tired."
"Well then, back to your secret then."
Royal hesitated. "I've never told anyone."
"Then, I should be the one to know. Go on," he said, urging her.
"Fine. I...shot a man once." She held her breath as the words fell clumsily out of her mouth. It was strange for her to hear, even after years of living with it. She waited for him to say something, anything.
Dmitry's eyes opened. Shifting his long body a little, he looked up at her. "You'd better explain that one to me," he said in a deep raspy voice. His crystal blue eyes beamed through her, waiting. A small smile crept across his full lips. Could it be that he was amused?
"When I was fourteen, one of my foster parents' friends used to come over a lot. He was a truck driver, and when he was in town, he would always stay at their house. He was a real...funky looking guy, wiry beard and looked like he never washed. My foster parents would let him sleep in the den on the couch. He'd watch porno while everyone was sleep. He was a real dirt bag.
"One night when it was really late, while I was gone with some of my friends, he snuck in my sister's room and raped her. She was real quiet, you know. Plus, she was super skinny. It wouldn't have been hard for him to overpower her. She didn't tell anyone—probably thought no one would believe her. Then the signs started to show. You know... more weight, sick all the time, sleeping all the time. I got nosy and suspicious.
"When she finally confessed to me what was going on, I was... on fire. You see, he would have never gone after me. I was the loud mouth, the bad kid. I would have fought. I always did," she smiled. "So I waited for him and the next time that he was in town, I followed him up to the truck stop and when nightfall came, I snuck into his cabin, seduced him and shot him to death with his own gun. I wanted to stab him; I even brought my own kitchen knife, but the gun was there. In a rage, I just grabbed it, when he had his pants down." She let the tears fall. "I donno. I wish that I could take it back sometimes."
"Damn," Dmitry sighed. "I didn't know that you had any
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