39. Jaxcen

Chapter thirty-nine

Jaxcen

E ven with all the trauma I faced as a child, I don’t think I’ve ever cried this much in my life. I feel pathetic. Out of sorts. I only knew that man for five days. What the hell did I really think was going to happen?

That we were going to stay in that town forever and have sex daily until I had his child, and then do it all over again?

Dammit.

Maybe I did actually think that.

Why am I so naive? So gullible?

It felt so real.

It felt like more than sex.

But what do I have to compare it to?

My relationship with Eddie? The very sexless one where he shamed me for having desires. The one where he dictated my job, where I live, how I live, what I buy and don’t buy, what I eat, and where I pray.

My life skills have been stunted. I know that now. But I don’t know how I’m meant to live in the real world without those rules. Without those strict guidelines that spell out the difference between right or wrong.

But it’s just religion, right? Not the law.

There’s no law against gluttony. No law against pride, greed, lust or envy. It’s not illegal to gossip, or be lazy, or even commit adultery, and the only time lying is illegal is when it’s in the court of law or speaking to the police. Hell, even wrath isn’t illegal. I can hate someone, and that’s okay, as long as I don’t get violent, right?

So really, in religion, or the religion I was raised with, the only sins that should concern me are stealing and murder. Those two are illegal.

So why couldn’t I see that before all of this happened? Before the devil kidnapped me and woke me from the spell I’d been under?

I’d been conditioned. Just like at Holly River Estate. Just like with Eddie. I’d been conditioned to conform to behave and believe certain things.

Well, I don’t believe in them anymore, but I’ve never navigated the world with my eyes wide open like this, and I’m scared. So scared.

The drive back to the city was torturous. Liam kept trying to make jokes and lighten the mood, and Warrick, who wore the black bag over his head until we reached the city limits, kept telling stories about the stupid stuff he and Devon got up to when they were little.

It made me realise how little I knew about Devon Marx. I learned more from his brother in the two hour drive than in the five days I spent as his little mouse.

Presley insisted I go back to her place, where I’ve been staying ever since.

The first three days I didn’t get out of bed, but on day four, she dragged my sorry arse out and insisted we go to my place and clean it out.

So that’s what we did for two days, relocating my few things and my shoe collection to her apartment.

I found the cameras as we started packing things away. There were two different kinds which I’m guessing one came from Vincent, and the other from Devon’s men.

I burned them all.

I also went to the closest pawn shop and hocked my engagement ring. I was expecting the clerk to tell me it wasn’t even a real diamond, but it was, and I got six hundred dollars for it, which I used to buy myself some new shoes.

The retail therapy worked for like five minutes.

That little outing made me feel better for a short time, until I had the strange feeling I was being followed, and like a coward, I hurried back to Presley’s and locked myself inside for the rest of the day.

Today is New Year’s Eve. I’ve never been to a New Year’s Eve party, because Eddie didn’t approve, and I’d love to go to one, but when Presley reminds me that she’s going to a Marx party that Liam invited us to, I decline.

What if he’s there? I can’t bear to see Devon right now. I just don’t think I’d recover from it.

Pres and I venture out into the city for lunch, the air warm, the city bustling with celebrations already starting up.

Melbourne has an amazing fireworks display that happens along the Yarra River each year. I’ve only ever watched it on TV, but I suppose I might see some of it from Presley’s apartment since she’s only a block from the river.

“Are you sure you won’t come with me tonight? I can ask Liam if Devon will be there. If he’s not, you might actually enjoy yourself.”

I smile warmly at my sister’s third attempt in the last two hours to get me to change my mind, but I shake my head, and take a bite of another fry as a chill runs up my spine.

It’s happening again. The feeling of being watched.

I don’t know how to explain it. Call it intuition. Or perhaps I’m just crazy. Who knows.

But I can’t shake the feeling someone has been following me again. Just like yesterday.

“I’ll pass,” I say again to my sister, trying to push away my concerns about being stalked. “I want to get my shoes organised.”

Presley laughs. “Why didn’t I know you had so many shoes? And expensive ones at that?”

I shrug. “Eddie didn’t like them.” I remind her, then change the tone of my voice, mocking Eddie’s voice. “Shoes like that aren’t a necessity, Jaxcen. That is nothing but greed, and greed is a sin. I expect better of you.”

I roll my eyes and Presley giggles. “Your impersonation of him is on point.”

I nod. “He did like the sound of his own voice. I heard his lectures many times.”

Presley sighs. “I didn’t know that, Jax.” She reaches across the table and takes my hand. “I’m sorry I didn’t know.”

“It’s not your fault. I thought it was normal.” I shrug, and all it does is make Presley stare at me with more concern, and all I feel is pathetic.

“You know, you seem so different now,” Pres says, snatching one of the fries off my plate.

“How so?” I ask, glancing around to see if I can spot anyone watching us.

“You just seem so much more… alive.”

My gaze darts to hers to see her eating the fry but watching me.

“Alive?” I ask, remembering that’s what I felt around Devon.

We’d spoken about this at the cliffs in Woodall Ridge on Christmas Day, and at the time, I did feel alive. Now though, I feel dead inside.

“Yeah. There’s this light in your eyes that wasn’t there before. It’s like you’re seeing the world for the first time. Seeing all the possibilities and opportunities at your feet. There’s a whole world of wonders for you to explore, and I think you’re finally seeing that.”

She’s right of course. With my eyes wide open, not only do I see what my parents, Dr Xavier, and Eddie did as disgustingly wrong, but I see all the things that are acceptable and right.

Like the woman, two tables over, dressed to impress, her skin glowing with a fresh tan, her nails like claws and her rings sparkling. Her shoes are Jimmy Choo’s, and her bag looks like it’s Prada. She looks classy. Happy. And even though her style isn’t mine, I envy her.

Then there are the two guys in the corner. Happy. Laughing, sharing a plate of food and feeding each other. They don’t care about showing their feelings in public. The church frowns upon same sex couples, but it’s not illegal, and those two men don’t care. They are clearly in love. And scanning the crowd sitting at tables around them shows that they don’t care either.

“I see so much now,” I mutter quietly, envious of everyone around me. “Why do you think our parents are the way they are?”

Presley’s brows shoot up at my question, and she takes a sip of her wine before answering.

“I read Mum’s diary last year,” she admits, and this time my brows shoot high.

“You did? What did it say?”

“Well, nothing too shocking other than the fact that these BS beliefs they’ve been raising us with are things she truly believes. And as far as I can tell, it was the way her and Dad were raised too.”

I nod, not that shocked. Our parents attended the same church together as kids, so their courtship, as my mother likes to call it, was understandable before they got married.

Were my parents nothing but pawns in their parents’ twisted beliefs as well?

Probably.

“There’s no changing them now,” I admit, wondering how Dad likes living without his fingers.

I wish I had been there when he met the devil.

“Well, we better get going,” Presley says, grabbing her bag off the table. “I need to grab a bottle of bubbles on our way back.”

I snicker. “I’m pretty sure you don’t need to take a bottle of wine to a Marx party. They have plenty of money to supply booze.”

“Oh, no. It’s not for the party. It’s for before the party while I get ready.” Presley giggles, and I smile, standing with her as we leave the riverfront cafe.

We chat away as we walk arm in arm the few blocks to Presley’s favourite bottle-o, and I stay outside as she goes in, enjoying the sun and the hyped atmosphere of the city today .

In the window of the bottle-o, they have a selection of expensive whiskeys sitting behind the security grates, and my eyes widen at the hefty five thousand dollar price tag.

Gosh. I hope Presley’s wine isn’t expensive.

As I glance up, a figure across the street catches my eye in the reflection of the window.

Tall. Sandy hair, but wearing a cap.

I stiffen.

Shit.

“I can’t believe they’ve already sold out of my fav,” Presley huffs coming to stand next to me, but my eyes remain on the figure over the street. “I should have grabbed it yesterday, but I was worried I’d drink it early and then be without, and now I’m without anyway. This cheap shit will have to do.”

“Have a look at this,” I say, ignoring the bottle my sister is holding up as I lean closer to the window and point at the whiskey bottles.

“Wait… do you drink whiskey now?” Presley asks in confusion.

“Pres, just keep pretending to look at the whiskey, but instead look at the reflection, and tell me if you can see someone across the street watching us.”

A strangled okay falls from her lips, and then I hear her gasp.

“Is that Eddie?”

“Yes. I’ve had a sixth sense that someone has been following me since yesterday. It’s him. We’re not safe.”

“I got this.” Presley straightens from the window and pulls out her phone tapping the screen before placing it to her ear. “Act casual,” she tells me, so I stop staring in the window and look at her instead, wondering what she’s doing.

“Hi, yes it’s me,” Presley says into the phone. “You know how you said if we ever felt like we were in danger I could ring. Well, this is me calling.”

I can hear a deep voice on the other end of the line, but can’t make out who it is.

“Yes, we can start walking that way. See you soon. ”

Hanging up, she loops her elbow with mine and we start walking back the way we came from only minutes ago.

“Who was that and where are we going?” I ask, and my big sister beams at me.

“That was Liam, and he’s just around the corner, so he’ll drive us home.”

I groan, not wanting anything to do with a Marx man, but I suppose we are safest with them right now, so I let my sister tug me along the street and around the next corner.

We can’t look over our shoulder without making it obvious, so we keep our heads forward, and I spot Liam up ahead leaning against his black car.

When he spots us, he smiles, pushing off the car, and I notice his eyes move over our shoulders as we get closer.

“Blondish hair, wearing a cap?” he asks as he closes the distance leaning in to give me a hug, and I nod as he pulls back and then hugs Presley. “Okay, ladies. Your chariot awaits.”

I can’t help but smile at Liam’s typical playfulness, and when I glance at Presley, I can tell she has a thing for him.

Great. The Marx charm is working on her too.

Not that Devon was charming. Not at first anyway, but in the quiet moments, he had a tender side to him that I’ll never forget. I’ll be dreaming about that side of him forever, I dare say.

My heart hurts thinking about him as I slide into the back seat of Liam’s car, and I turn back in time to see Eddie slinking into an alcove.

“I can’t believe he’s stalking you,” Presley says from the front seat as she clips her seatbelt in place.

“I can’t either,” I mutter, feeling safer now that we are in Liam’s car.

“Want me to make him disappear?” Liam asks as he joins us, starting up the car.

Presley giggles at that comment, and I guess she doesn’t realise how true his suggestion is. He’s a Marx. They could make anyone disappear if they want to. Much like Vincent, although I have no idea what was done with his body. I didn’t want to ask.

“No,” I sigh. “He’ll stop eventually.” I hardly believe my words, because quite frankly, him stalking me was never something I considered.

I figured he would wash his hands of me and move on to find some other naive woman.

“Okie dokie,” Liam says, pulling the car away from the curb. “You coming to party with us tonight?”

I shake my head when I meet his eyes in the rear view mirror.

“Oh, come on. It’ll be fun.”

“I’ve already tried so many times to change her mind,” Presley says before the two of them fall into a discussion on their favourite part about New Year’s Eve.

I think my favourite part will be that it’s the end of a shitty year that I’d like to forget.

After Liam drops us off at Presley’s apartment, well, I guess it’s mine now too, my sister flits about the place drinking and dancing and getting ready, while I take a soak in the bath and shave my legs, and all my bits.

Presley gets picked up by Liam at six, and I sit on the end of my bed, my hair done, my makeup on, and a mask lying next to me on the bed.

I glance at it, unsure if I should do this. Unsure if going to Cloud 9 is the right thing to do.

I can go there now without shame. I know that. But it’s not what’s holding me back.

Dev.

Why is he under my skin so much? Why does the thought of watching other people without him there, churn my stomach?

Shit. Maybe I am pregnant.

I should probably test myself, although, I’m gathering it’s probably too soon to know. But I guess I’ll know soon enough if my monthly doesn’t come. Then I’ll know if Devon’s obsessive attempts to keep his cum inside me have worked .

Standing from the end of my bed, I look at my reflection in the mirror.

Golden blonde hair in long waves. Blue eyes that will only be seen peering through the mask. Red lips that everyone will see, making them look plumper than usual. My neck has fading hickeys, my attempt to cover them with makeup futile, but at least it has taken the harshness away.

My breasts fit perfectly into the c-cup black lacy bra, with a tease of my pink nipple showing through. My stomach is flat, probably a little too flat given my inability to eat much since leaving Woodall Ridge. The black lace panties are a bikini cut in the front and g-string in the back, and my legs are silky smooth, all the way down to the red Louboutin pumps.

I’ve never worn any other colour than white to Cloud 9. I don’t know why.

Was I aiming for innocent?

I don’t feel innocent anymore. Not that I dislike that. I rather enjoy the idea that I can be naughty. A little depraved.

I considered wearing red. Men like red which is why I have the red heels on. But my mood is too dark to wear a colour on the rest of me, so I chose black.

Taking the black mask off the bed, I slip it on and examine the full picture.

Is this what I want to do on my first New Year’s Eve as a free woman?

I could just stay in and watch the fireworks from the balcony, but the idea of being alone feels almost suffocating.

Perhaps I should have gone with Presley.

“Oh, come on Jaxcen. Make up your damn mind,” I snap at myself, and huff, tearing off the mask before moving to my wardrobe.

Fuck it. I can always leave if the Cloud 9 atmosphere doesn’t bring me out of my funk.

Throwing on a dress over my lingerie, I order an uber, and with my mask in hand, I leave the apartment.

It’s time to see if I’m ready to stop watching from the sidelines and finally join in.