Courtney Cole - Before We Fall

His voice is icy cold, as cold as he believes his heart to be. It breaks mine.

“Dom,” I start out, rushing to him. I drop to my knees in front of him, grabbing his hands. He lets me hold them, but he doesn’t grip mine. His are as cold as his voice.

“Dom, it’s okay to hate her. I know that part of you does. But the other part loves her, and that’s okay, too. This is a fucked-up situation. It really is. And it’s a situation that you’ve carried on your back for years. There’s no wonder that you feel so fucked up.”

He stares at me, his eyes so dark. “Is this supposed to help?”

I ignore the icy tone. “I think part of what made it so terrible is that it was all a secret. You felt you couldn’t talk about it. But now it’s all out in the light where everyone can see. In order to get past something, you have to confront it. And it will be so much easier now that you can see what you’re dealing with.”

“I don’t want to see it,” Dominic says limply, turning off the TV. Emma’s face disappears, a black screen remaining where she had been. “I want to forget that any of it ever happened. I don’t even want to look at Sin. It’ll be a long time before I can do that.”

My heart hurts as I stare at him.

“I understand, “I tell him. “The natural reaction would be to bury it and try not to think about it. But I don’t know that’s the healthiest thing do to, or even if it’ll be possible. And Dom. Just so you know, Sin is gutted over this. He was just a kid, like you, and he never realized the ramifications of his actions.”

Dominic closes his eyes. “Please, just don’t talk about Sin with me. I’m pissed at the entire world right now, Jacey. I’m not sure that you should be here with me. I should probably be alone. I’m not fit company.”

“I would be surprised if you were,” I tell him honestly. “But I’m not going anywhere. I’m not leaving you alone. I’ll go downstairs and hang out by myself. And if you want to talk to someone—even if you want to vent and yell, come get me.”

Dominic nods slowly. “I don’t know what I did to deserve you.”

“You exist,” I tell him honestly. “You exist and I love you. All of you. All of the monsters and the hate and the ugliness. And the goodness and the honesty and person that I know you are deep down.”

Dominic closes his eyes and I slip from the room.

Dominic

I sit for quite some time, but eventually the room closes in on me, dark and silent. The walls cave in and I swing at them, punching a hole into the drywall. But it’s not enough. I glance into the mirror and hate how destroyed I look, so I pick up a heavy stone vase and throw it into the mirror. It all shatters onto the floor.

Within a minute, Jacey appears in the door, hesitant and beautiful. “Are you OK?” she asks as she stares at the broken glass.

I stare at her, hard.

“No.”

She takes a step toward me, but I stop her.

“No,” I tell her. “Don’t come in. It’s ugly in here, Jacey.”

“I want to help,” she says softly. “Tell me how to help, Dom.”

I shake my head, staring at her. All of the feelings that I’ve suppressed so long—combined with the new ones that I have over Sin’s betrayal—come bubbling to the surface, and I feel consumed by them. Consumed by the ugliness.

“You want to help?” I ask between my teeth, taking a step toward her. “Fine. Come help, Jacey.”

I don’t see her. Not really. I see her blond hair, her goodness, her innocence, and my pain. I see a lot of my pain. And my pain fuels my anger.

Jacey willingly steps into the room, right up to me.

“Go ahead,” she says quietly, like she knows what I want to do. Like she knows what I need to do to get rid of this godforsaken pain.

I grab her arms, hard, shoving her onto the bed as I hover over her. “I’ve told you not to be with me,” I snarl. “I told you. I warned you. You should’ve listened.”

Jacey stares at me, unafraid, as I wrap my fist in the hair at her neck, pulling her to me to kiss her ferociously. There’s nothing tender in my kiss. There’s ugliness there. Roughness. Hatred and pain.

She kisses me back, angrily, her teeth scraping against mine.

“Fine. You need me to vent? Vent to me, Dom. Go ahead. Do it. Vent in me if you need to. I can take it.”

Her dark eyes hold a challenge, and suddenly she’s angry too.

“You use this darkness, this roughness as a mask, Dom,” she tells me, her brown eyes snapping. “For years, you’ve lingered on the edge of taboo, doing things that most people don’t because that’s what you think you deserve. You confused it for being something you actually like.”

“Oh, I like it,” I tell her firmly, pulling her to me roughly and nipping at her neck. There’s a red mark where my teeth were. “Make no mistake about that. I like being rough. I like the pain, Jacey.”

I pick her up and shove her against the wall, thrusting my hips into hers as I pin here there, staring into her eyes. “Trust me, I do it because I want to. Not because I’m confused.”

I lift her thighs and slam her into the wall again, not too hard, but hard enough to prove my point. My dick is rock hard now, fueled by anger and the feeling of her pussy pressed against it.

“You like the pain because it takes your mind off of what really hurts, Dominic,” Jacey says softly. “That’s what you like.”

But she kisses me, and her mouth is soft and sweet and it tightens my groin, against my better judgment, against any good that’s left in me.

“You don’t want to be with me right now,” I warn her. “Trust me.”

Jacey looks me in the eye.

“Don’t tell me what I want to do,” she commands softly. “If you can dish it, I can take it.”

Fumbling with my jeans, I pull my dick out, shove her skirt up, and thrust into her hard, with no preamble, no foreplay. Her eyes widen, but she takes it without a whimper or a sigh.

Pinning her against the wall, I hold her wrists above her head with one hand, squeezing them hard.

“Still want to take it?” I growl into her mouth.

She nods, her eyes surprisingly glazed over… with lust. “Fuck me,” she says breathlessly as I thrust into her over and over. “I can take it. I want to take it.”

So I do.

I fuck her hard, I fuck her into the wall, grinding her back into it, an outlet for my ugliness. But as I open my eyes finally, hers are staring into mine.

And they’re brown. Not blue.

She’s Jacey, not Emma.

And all the rage that I’m feeling, it’s not directed at her. The pain that I’m feeling… it’s not because of her.

I freeze as the revelation occurs to me. As I realize that she was right. I like pain because it’s an outlet for what I really feel. It’s a vent. And I’m not venting into Jacey.

Sliding Jacey off the wall, I carry her to the bed.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper to her urgently as I use my knee to open her legs. She lets them fall easily open, and I slide into her, gently this time. “I’m sorry, Jacey.”

She closes her eyes and pulls me to her, letting my head rest in the crook of her shoulder. The energy of the room has changed from frenetic to soft, from rough to gentle.

I come softly, silently, straining into her, holding her to me.

I destroy everyone I touch.

I can’t destroy her.

Jacey

Dominic might not want to admit it, but I felt his heart break with every movement.

I’m quiet as I lie staring at him, and it’s a long time before he opens his eyes. When he does, there’s guilt in them.

“I’m sorry,” he says simply. “I’m so sorry, Jacey. I was… angry. At the world, at Sin, at Emma, at you for being right. You were right. I get off on watching people have sex because I can do it without getting involved. I like sexual pain because it distracts me from what really causes me pain. And that’s not you. You don’t cause me pain. I have no right to hold you accountable for something you didn’t do. I’m sorry.”

My heart squeezes. “I know,” I tell him softly. “I know.”

And I do. I know what it’s like to be so overwhelmed by emotion that you can’t even think straight. I felt the same way the day Jared turned my world upside down.

I curl into Dominic’s side and he holds me there, clutched to him.

“Where do you think she is?” he muses aloud after a while, staring out the window. “I worry about that sometimes.”

I stroke his arm and I know he’s talking about Emma.

“I don’t know. I’ve wondered that about the people I love. I like to think that they’re in a better place. That they’re somewhere where tears and pain don’t exist anymore.”

“Then they’re in a better place than we are,” Dominic says tiredly.

“We can hope,” I answer. “Death is going to come to us all, Dom. It’s up to us how we handle it. It’s hard, I know.”

He remains silent, and I grab his hand. He lets me, but I can see his heart’s not in it. His fingers are cold, his eyes are blank.

After a few more minutes I turn to him, desperate to make him understand that there’s hope. After having such angry sex, I thought he might feel somewhat better, that it had been an outlet for his rage. And it had been.

But now he only seems hopeless.

“Dominic, I know you’re pissed at the world. But we’ll get past this. You’ll see that you can trust the people you love. Sometimes they make bad decisions, but we all do. It’s human nature. We’ll get past this.”