My hair is blue. (part three) “I feel it burning me, I feel it burning you...
“I don’t owe you anything.”
“I think you do,” On the breakfast bar, among the scatterings of junk mail and fast food flyers, there was a single piece of paper. Kyle grabbed the stark white letter weight sheet, “You need me to sign you off this lease.”
Kyle picked up the paper to show her - the bottom blank - sans signature.
“I’ll sign it,” he told her, but I have some demands.
“Fine,” she agreed, hushed, “I promise, no more Justin, we can date.”
“No,” the tone of his voice slithered sideways, away from the lovesick and devoted facade he had been fronting, “I have a list.” He put the document back down and strode over to the desk where his laptop sat closed. He opened it, after signing-in, the screen opened to a word document with a bulleted list.
“Come here,” he demanded.
Anja’s head was floating in a nightmare, unable to feel her feet move.
Blow Job (at desk, in shower, in car)
Anja looked away, nauseated, seething, and unwilling to read further. “You went from wanting to date me... to this?”
“Well I think you’re a liar Anja. You’ve hurt me. So if you’re going to leave I need to get my fill of you so I can move on.”
“You mean your fill of my body,” she bit back, whipping her head to face and glare at him.
His face and body were cold, stone, but his eyes... rabid.
“Or I could keep you here.”
“I’ve been accepted into that new apartment, I’m just waiting to here that it’s ready.”
“Well go then,” he told her, “But you’ll still owe rent here. My credit score is over 800 it can take the hit, but I know yours can’t.”
“Why are you doing this?” She demanded, “This relationship isn’t working anymore. People break up, Kyle.”
“You moved us out here!” he yelled, “I’m here because of you, because we said we’d be together forever.” He paused, collecting himself, “-You owe me this. And I’m cashing in now. If you want me to sign you off, I get you, when I want you, while you’re here in my apartment. You’re paying rent baby.”
She knew she should leave, but everything that made the space a home was hers and it was all trapped. She was trapped.
“Or I could sign this now and start the eviction process.” He crossed the living room to the sliding glass door on the balcony. “When you leave I don’t want to be reminded of you. If you walk out that door. All of this,” he gestured to the room with his outstretching arm, “Is going out the window. I don’t want to look at it.”
He grabbed the picture of her parents from her father’s college graduation off the bookshelf and held it outside, threatening to drop it to the riverbank below.
“Wait!” she yelled, “Just wait. Let me...let me think. Just give me a day.”
“No,” he told her, “I’m done waiting for you to change your mind. You say this is what you want, now give me what I want.”
“The desk!” she yelled, panicked, “You can fuck me on the desk.”
The corner of his mouth tugged up. Not in a smile or a smirk, just confirmation of a positive outcome...for him. Kyle stepped fully back into the living room and lay the picture face down on the bookshelf, rather than setting it up right on the stand. He closed the door and strode over to Anja. He reached his fingers to her face, trailing the tips across her cheekbone and continuing back to thread through her hair. He forced his mouth on to hers, pushing his tongue between her lips violently. She pushed him away, quickly undoing her belt and pushing down her jeans. She turned to lean over the desk, because she couldn’t face him, she couldn’t look at him looking at her anymore.
He tugged at the hem of her shirt. “Off he demanded.”
She shed her black work shirt and bent over the desk, gripping the edge with her hands. She spread her legs, prepared to close her eyes and ride it out.
Kyle stroked her back and she could her the *ching* of his belt buckle grazing the button on his fly as he discarded his pants.
She was Mojave dry. Yet he forced his way in. She was started blankly at the desk as he forced his way in. She was prepared to block it out until she felt him reach his hand past her waist and in front of her.
He was holding his phone. Then she felt the picture memory of the list sear on her mind.
“I think you’ll agree to stacking my demands”
In that moment it had all become too real and Anja allowed herself to panic.
She stared at the camera holding in the tears, choking on emotional release.
It was over quickly. He came on her back and wiped it up with her shirt.
As soon as she was released from his mounting she ran into her room and wept.
There was a mewing at the door.
Anja quieted herself while her she cracked open the door.
Afterwards she fell to the mat on the floor, curling into the fetal position, the small white cat fit himself into her body’s curvature as she cried, loud and ragged.
After half an hour had past she had yet to stop crying, Kyle spoke to her through the door.
“I deleted the video,” he told her. “You kept making strange faces.”
