Chapter 4: On a sunny day
He dreamt about putting his hands around Lori's neck and squeezing. It was like choking himself. With a start, he woke. The door creaked. The light came on.
'Eric, I found a dress in the bathroom and...'
His aunt stopped in her tracks when she noticed the sleeping girl besides him. He quickly covered Lori with the sheet, which woke her up. She stirred and flashed a smile at him. When she saw his aunt, she sat up, eager, holding out her hand.
'Hi, I'm Lori Cranston. Nice to meet you,' she introduced herself. Eric groaned as his aunt pointedly stared at the floor.
'Lori, you're naked,' he whispered. Blinking, Lori looked down at her breasts and giggled.
'Oh, yeah. Sorry' she conceded and pulled the blanket up to her chin. Eric glanced at his aunt. She looked embarrassed, but was also trying to hide a smile. She put the pile of dry clothes she was holding on the edge of the bed. Then she quickly left. Eric followed her downstairs.
'That was a surprise. You should have told me. Is she even of age?' his aunt inquired, while folding the laundry.
'She's sixteen, but you are right. I should have told you. I'm sorry. I ran into her yesterday.'
'She's the same girl as the girl who almost drowned, isn't she?'
'Yes.'
'What is she? To you.'
She stopped folding to look him in the eyes. Eric scratched at his face and decided to tell her the truth, well, all he was willing to give away.
'We're... friends.'
His aunt seemed convinced, though it was difficult to read her. Eric thought it maybe worried and pleased her at the same time.
'Would it be okay if she came over sometimes?'
She smiled and nodded, but he could tell that she was upset. As if not being able to make up her mind whether it was a good or bad thing how much he cared. Afraid of where this might lead. He wondered about that himself.
Eric had used to discard caring. The part you throw away, he'd called it. Look at me now, he thought. The extent to which he cared about Lori was unreal. It was a tenderness in him that worked outwards, that wanted to scoop Lori up in his arms and shield her from everything dangerous in the world. Strange.
(***)
He waited until his aunt had left for work before returning upstairs. Lori was still in bed. He sat down next to her. Carefully, she leaned towards him, smoothing back his hair, running her fingers through it.
'You're bleeding again,' she murmured.
Eric had to remind himself not to flinch as she touched him and to stay still and not jerk away from the contact.
'Is that from last night? The branches snapping in your face?'
'Leave it,' he said, averting his face. Undeterred, Lori slid her fingertips over the sore spot.
'I said, leave it!'
He got up as Lori dropped her hand. He didn't have to look at her to see the hurt on her face. The sting of rejection. Lori started to dress. First her bra, then her panties and finally her dress. When she tried to pick up her shoes, Eric grabbed her hand.
'You're hurting me. Why are you always hurting me?'
Because you like it. Because you need it. Like I need you. Eric let go of her hand.
'Stay.'
Lori looked at him, incredulous.
'Why? You obviously don't want me.'
Sighing, he sat down on the bed. Lowered his head into his hands. Wasn't it a bitch to find out that Lori, who he didn't even like most of the time, who frankly really annoyed him with her incessant staring and pushing and offering herself to him, that Lori, who was extremely uninteresting and plain, that she was what he wanted? Not to kill, which, ugh, disgusted him more than he could articulate, but to sort of have around. Someone who came as close to knowing him as anyone ever had.
'Lori, please.'
Lori didn't move. Not to leave, but not to come forward either. She stood in a pool of soft August light. It rendered her dress practically see-through. Desire coursed through him. Impatiently, he drew her to him and buried his face in the cotton. In Lori's warm flesh. His arms around her waist. A hush fell over the room. Lori remained passive when he lifted her dress and kissed her smooth stomach.
A quiet gasp escaped her mouth. She trembled as he pulled the dress over her head and discarded it. He moved his fingers across her back, undoing her bra. She still smelled like vanilla. His nails raked her thighs as he pulled her panties down. She stepped out of them, while he took off his own clothes.
Naked, they regarded each other. His hands moved towards her throat. Pliable muscles, the tendons of her neck standing out. Her body was so vulnerable. Those trusting eyes of hers were staring up at him, waiting. How could he bite, bruise, break Lori? How could he harm her? He couldn't.
Disbelief mingled with cruel knowledge paralysed him. He kissed her. He kissed her mouth. Again and again. Her lips were still soft from sleep. His hands stayed around her throat, but loosely. He kissed her the way you were supposed to. Sweet and nice. He bet he could have faked his way right through that, but discovered that it wasn't necessary. It just came to him. He was feeling this. Really feeling this. And it scared the hell out of him.
He laid her down on the bed. The desire to be gentle was too strong, no matter how much he mistrusted it. It was almost more than he could take. The weakness in his fingers was such that he could not even make a fist, had there been any reason for him wanting to.
If he had to choose between this and killing, – and of course he had to: Cristofuoro wasn't going to stay away forever – then, Eric thought he could do it. It was a gamble, sure, but he could give it up. The thrill of life seeping away between his fingers for this.
Slowly, he sank into her flesh. His kisses intensified as their rhythm increased. His thrusts deepened. Lori moved underneath him. Eric adjusted himself to the sensation. He even came to enjoy it. The throb of Lori's body. Beneath, between, around him. Her breath on his lips. Finally, Lori came and watched him as he finished. Kissing her all the while. Tenderly.
(***)
So this was what it was like, afterwards with a girl. The realisation was startling. Eric felt uneasy as Lori's eyes followed him around the kitchen. He got out the milk and cereal. She smiled at him when he handed her a bowl. Lori swept her hair back and slid the spoon into the already soggy cereal. Now it was his turn to observe her. He couldn't eat. His throat was tight.
'You matter, Lori.'
Suspiciously, Lori glared at him.
'You matter to me,' he said, attempting to narrow down the scope of his statement, but simultaneously infusing it with more meaning than he had intended. Eric grimaced.
'Shut up,' Lori scoffed. Her voice wavered unreliably.
'Why?'
'Because, fuck you, that's why.'
After a moment of holding each others' gaze, they both burst out laughing. Before he knew what was happening, he had slipped off his chair and they were kissing again. He loved the feeling of her lips under his, her body flush against his and the chuckle caught deep in her throat. When they came, his thoughts were not methodical and detached as was their wont.
The water's lovely. I don't think I'm ever coming out.
The end.