D for Dylan - 16. Chapter Sixteen

The sounds of their screaming got more distorted as I walked towards bathroom.

Frankly, I always considered the crime of passion to be an elaborate hoax invented by corrupt legal system to protect men who murdered their wives. Committing something fucked up because you were ‘extremely agitated’ and lost control over your state of mind? Please. That stuff, along with amnesia plots and mandatory storylines with jealous bitches drugging good guys to get them caught in bed by their fiancées, only made sense in the shitty soap operas.

Yes. I always thought ‘heat of passion’ was a steaming pile of bullshit.

Until the moment I looked at myself in reflection of the bathroom mirror, unable to mentally grasp what the fuck just happened.

My shirt was covered in a fucking cupful of Liam Henderson’s thick, creamy sperm. The sperm he just shot all over me, right in front of the girl that did most of the job milking it out of him.

“I will fucking kill that motherfucke-e-er!” - I heard her wail out in the hall.

I zoned out their annoying high-pitched screams and took my shirt off. Mom bought it for my birthday last year for whopping 60 bucks - ain’t no way I was letting that horny bastard ruin it. I turned a handle of the unreasonably expensive-looking faucet, washed off most of his unsolicited DNA and squirted liquid soap on the stains.

“Him? Of all fucking people, really?! That faggot?” bewailed the girl who’s last name I still didn’t know, “Seriously Liam?”

“Shut your fucking mouth!” he shouted.

As I scrubbed my favorite shirt, I heard her slapping him, he wrestled her down and yelled at her, which only got her angrier. By the time she barged into the bathroom, there was a bruise on the side of her chest and a carpet rash on her left boob. She looked like she was about to kill me.

“Look, before you say… or do anything stupid…” I exhaled in honest-to-god fatigue at this point, “Can I please finish cleaning your boyfriend’s sperm off of my god damn shirt? He came like a fucking whale, Jesus!”

The expression of shock and humiliation on her face should’ve been photographed and framed. I don’t think she even remembered that she was still naked.

“You hear me Liam?!” I shouted over her shoulder. “What the fuck is this?!”

He showed up behind her back and the steamy bathroom started to feel crowded.

For a few moments, none of us slipped out a single word. The sounds of water were the only ones breaking the awkward silence, as I kept scrubbing my wet shirt and lifting it up in front of the mirror to assess the progress on the stains.

“How long have you two been fucking?” Jessica asked in a voice so low, I felt my blood temperature dropping a few degrees.

“Jess, you should leave...” Liam said, putting his hand on her shoulder.

She shook it off and stepped closer to me, as I twisted and squeezed my shirt, finally happy with the results.

“Tell me.” she demanded. “What did you do to him? Are you blackmailing him or something?”

I set my shirt aside and took a deep breath, turning to face her.

“Your nipples are staring into my soul.” I sighed.

Liam chuckled, choked on his spit and started coughing. Could this situation get even more awkward?

“I don’t give a fuck.” she sneered like a snake.

“Alright, as you wish.” I gave up, leaning my hips against the marble counter. “What do you want to discuss?”

“How long are you two fucking?” she asked.

“Do I look like a rubber doll?” I returned.

Another silent pause lingered in the air, as she tried to make sense of my words.

“What?” she asked, twisting her face in confusion and annoyance.

“Have you seen his dick?” I asked in all seriousness, pointing at Liam’s groin and causing him to flinch. “No thank you. Besides, I won’t fuck him even if he was the last guy on earth. Isn’t that right, pretty boy?”

Liam lowered his eyes and pursed his lips. His naked girlfriend was getting progressively more confused.

“So you’re…” she uttered, rubbing her forehead. “You guys are not..?”

“Nope, only in his dreams. He’s all yours.” I said, raising my hands in a capitulating gesture.

“Bullshit.” she said.

“Trust me, Jess. I’m not interested.” I insisted. “You can have this walking red flag all to yourself.”

She looked at me suspiciously.

“Why?” she asked, which caught me by surprise.

“Why what?”

“You love him.” she said. “You were fucking crazy about him. He told me.”

I glared at Liam, feeling sudden flush of rage fill my throat.

“He…” I whispered. “…he told you?”

“Yeah, a while back.” she smiled. “We used to laugh about it.”

“Don’t listen to her.” Liam intervened, once again grabbing her arm. “Jess, you should fucking leave, now!”

She slapped his hand away and turned back to me.

“I told you not to trust him.” I warned her. “But you didn’t listen.”

“Wait, you guys talked about me?” Liam asked in surprise.

“You shut the fuck up.” I seethed, suppressing the urge to spit in his face. Turning my attention back to his girlfriend, I continued, “And you... He just fucking used your body as a prop to masturbate in front of me, just to get me jealous. His own fucking girlfriend. Are you seriously asking me why I wouldn’t want anything to do with him?..”

I grabbed my dripping shirt and walked towards the door, bumping into Liam’s shoulder. He pinched my arm and I slammed his body against the doorframe in return.

“You wanna tell everyone I used to love you? Fine. Go ahead!” I exhaled, wrapping my hand around his neck. “Savor those memories as long as you fucking want.”

“I’m sorry…” he begged.

“Fuck you.” I spat.

“Dylan, please…”

“You know I brought a pepper spray here with me? That’s how fucking little I trust you, Liam.” I said. “You think you’re in love with me, huh?”

“Yes...” he whispered, putting his hands on my cheeks and looking in my eyes like a fucking weirdo. “I love you…”

“What?” Jess gasped.

“You have a very funny way of showing it.” I whistled in his face, ignoring her.

He had no fucking idea what love was, or what it meant. He was used to getting it from people, it felt normal to bathe in it and soak it in like rays of sun on a beach. He never had to fight for love, because he was rich and handsome - all he ever had to do was fucking collect it.

“I want you to love me so fucking much that it hurts. I wanna watch it burn your fucking soul to the ground, until you forget how to sleep, eat and breathe without me…” I hissed, spraying his lips and neck with my pressurized spit.

“Dylan…”

“And I will stand there, watching you weep and suffer…” I rasped.

“Please…”

“Until you finally get what it feels like, to lose what you loved the most.”

I trembled. Shivers shook my core as I struggled to breathe, hearing my lungs whistle.

“You can tattoo my entire name on your forehead next time.” I whispered, relaxing my grasp on his neck. “It won’t make a difference.”

I walked past him into the hallway. Cooler air relaxed my airways and I took a deep, satisfying breath. It was high time for me to go.

“Oh, and one more thing…” I said, turning around.

I looked Jessica in the eye. She was watching me as intently as before, still trying to process the conversation that transpired moments ago between her boyfriend and me.

“You’ve mentioned that Jake killed someone before?..” I uttered, staring her straight in the face. “If my boyfriend is really a fucking murderer, don’t you think it’s stupid to threaten me?”

She squinted. Liam stood there, watching us like an idiot, having no clue what this was about.

“If I were you, I’d be fucking terrified of me.” I said quietly, looking down on her. “If so much as a single hair falls off my little sister’s head, I will rip you apart, limb by limb.”

“How interesting…” she smiled.

“You heard me.” I said.

“What the fuck is he talking about?…” Liam heaved, shifting his gaze from me to Jessica.

“I’m sure she’ll explain everything.” I told him.

The muscle in the back of my neck tensed up in spasm and I rubbed it to ease the pain.

“Anyways… You guys put on a great show for me tonight, it almost turned me straight.” I winked at her brusquely. “Enjoy your perfect boyfriend, you two belong together.”

As I left them both to deal with the aftermath of this bloodbath, I pondered my last choice of words, for some reason. Reverting back to default settings wasn’t in the cards for me, but in my mind, it still made a hell of a joke.

Wearing a wet shirt in the chilly Bostonian evening, particularly in spring, was a one-way ticket to a hospital ward with pneumonia. By the time I got home my nipples have carved out a map to Rome on the very piece of clothing I so desperately tried to protect.

“Should I even ask?” mom coughed up when I got in and burritoed myself in the blanket.

“Nope.” I exhaled, covering my face.

Sarah came running downstairs from her room as soon as she heard me come in. She was wearing her favorite pajama with giraffes on it.

“Where’s your shirt?” she asked.

“It got dirty.”

“Someone squirted watercolors on you too?” she asked, in her most innocent voice.

“Yeah, pretty much.”

Mom sat between us on the couch and we all got cozy under the blanket.

“You guys wanna watch a movie?” Helen asked.

“Yeah.” I nodded. “How about Pretty Woman?”

“Is that the one about a prostitute?” Sarah asked, batting her eyelashes, making mom choke on her cup of tea.

“One day she’ll blurt this out in preschool and they’ll come strip me of parental rights.” mom bemoaned, suppressing her cough.

“They won’t.” I reassured, hugging her, as Sarah snuggled up to both of us.