When I awoke the next morning, I was alone. I sat up and pulled down the sheets to find a bloody mess. My entire crotch was incrusted in blood and the sheets were soaked. My cock was a mass of shredded flesh. Part of the blood was surely mine, but not all of it, I was certain.
I slid my jeans and shirt on and stripped the bed. I grabbed the bedding and my shoes and walked down the hall. I tossed the mess on the bathroom floor and took a shower.
After my shower I put on some fresh clothes, picked up the ruined bedding and trod downstairs. There was Paige, sitting at the kitchen table, with a cup of coffee, reading a People magazine. She wore winter pajamas, that covered her legs and her arms. This was a girl that didn't like to cover up unless it was cold. It wasn't cold at all that morning. It made her all the more alluring to me. She sat there, head down, her hair hanging down in her face, all covered up in flannel.
"Hi," Paige said, in a tiny sheepish tone. She barely glanced up at me.
"Morning," I replied, as I walked past. I went straight to the laundry room with the sheets. Once I got to the laundry room, I decided to trash the whole thing, and chucked it all in the garbage, and went back to the kitchen.
Paige looked up as I walked in and I smiled at her. She gave me the tiniest smile, but it seemed to light up the room. Her green eyes shined through the hair hanging across her face.
I turned to pour myself a cup of coffee and soon felt Paige's little hands on my ribs. She slid her arms around me, and held me close. I pivoted to face her, lifted her up and she wrapped her arms around my neck and her legs around my waist. I brushed the hair from her face and kissed her softly. Her hair smelled like blueberries and her mouth tasted like coffee, with cream and sugar. She laid her head on my shoulder and let it rest there. There were no tears, no sobs, just the warmest embrace I had ever known. We stood there entangled that way until our coffee grew cold.
Finally she said, "I hate you, mother fucker," without looking up or loosening her grip on me. "I hate the way you make me love you, even when I don't want to."
"You don't want to love me?"
"Sometimes I don't. But I can't help it. Do you really love me or not?"
"I do, Paige. I love you more than life itself."
"Now that just sounds like a load of shit."
"Paige, I've never loved anyone the way I love you."
"You've got a fucked up way of showin' a girl that you love her."
"I know, Baby. I've been a real mess lately. I want to take care of you. I want to do the right thing."
"There you go again, talkin' in cliches. I don't need you to take care of me. And do you have the slightest idea of what the 'right thing' to do is in this situation?"
"Who does? Let's just do what needs to be done and I'll be right at your side. I want to marry you, but we can't do that. So we have to figure out the next best thing."
"Would you really marry me?"
"I would. I swear. I want to spend the rest of my life with you."
"Are you going to send me to Aunt Beth's?"
"Hell no! It's you me and from now on."
"I want to sell the house."
"I know."
"I mean right away."
"OK."
