Page 160 of Forgotten Prejudice

Soren welcomed me into his life pretty much from the moment we met. And although he allowed me into his house, it always felt like he kept some of the doors locked. Soren always had something blocking him from giving himself wholly to me, and at last, he was telling me. We might not be together anymore, but it didn’t change the fact I was here for him. Reaching forward, I grabbed his hand and squeezed it tight.

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” I was ashamed of myself for asking. It was Soren’s decision whether to share this or not, but still.

Once again, his eyes met mine as he laced our fingers together. “I was scared you’d be repulsed or, worse, that you’d think our relationship was a result of what he’d done to me.”

“Oh, God.” I released my hand only to cup his face with both palms. “I would have never.”

He shrugged. “I mean, why not? Psychologically, it makes perfect sense that I’d seek control in a sexual relationship after I was introduced to sex in a situation where I was completely out of control. Not to mention you weren’t even legal when we met and the power dynamic we had.”

Something then occurred to me. “Was that why you got so angry when I lied about my age?” Thinking back on that night, he was so damn mad, repeating the word rape again and again. Even though I was old enough to make my own decisions then, maybe my age triggered him.

“Yes,” he said, then shook his head. “Maybe, I mean. I’m not sure.” He shrugged. “There were times I doubted our relationship and questioned my motives. I loved you, don’t get me wrong, but I was constantly afraid I was doing to you what he did to me, and that made me—” His words cut off as he took a sharp breath and squeezed his eyes shut.

“It made you depressed?” I offered, feeling tortured over the pain he’d gone through for years. If he had just spoken to me sooner, we could have worked through it. It also made me wonder if what that man did to him was the reason Soren never wanted children of his own. Whenever I brought up that subject in the past, Soren would always reject it. We had many fights over it, in which I got frustrated because he never provided me with real explanations as to why we couldn’t have children. Now, it all made so much sense. He didn’t want to speak about it because he couldn’t open up. He couldn’t bring himself to admit what happened to him when he was a child.

When he opened his eyes and I saw the softness through which he was looking at me, my heart fluttered. Realizing how close we were didn’t help, and my pulse only increased. Swallowing hard, I placed my hand against his jaw. But Soren didn’t budge and instead turned to kiss my palm. My skin burned where his lips touched me, and my cheeks turned red. He chuckled, the warm sound like medicine to my soul.

“You’re the most precious thing, Ashton,” he whispered, kissing me again.

“So why did you break up with me?” I asked, holding my guard because there was still a lot I needed to know.

Soren gently removed my hands and straightened up. “Ashton—”

“No,” I declared. “I need to know.”

Soren

Ever since we returned from Greece, I hadn’t felt like myself. Getting up each morning and needing to leave Ashton’s side became harder and harder until my everyday tasks became nothing but distractions until I could hold him in my arms again. He was the only thing that helped me to feel like a person and not some walking machine with no soul. He gave my life purpose and light.

Most of the time, all I wished for was to go back and lie on some sandy white beach with him by my side, without a worry on my mind. Perhaps I should do that? After all, I had the money to live such a life, but what would become of me without any structure? I couldn’t just… be. I needed a schedule, a routine, something to keep me in control, like work. What I was feeling now was only a phase, another one of those times where my mood shifted. Perhaps I should talk with my therapist about changing my dose or trying a new medication. That could help. I wasn’t an idiot; I knew what this was. Depression. After all, depression had many forms, and in my case, it wasn’t about lying in a dark room and not leaving my bed. I functioned, as I always did, but my thoughts didn’t give me a break. Not for a moment. What usually helped me calm down wasn’t working, and I found myself repeating the same actions again and again. Pointless rituals that were supposed to keep me sane but instead—did the opposite.

I needed to see Ashton. He’s the only one that could help.

“Dane!” my boss called, and I turned in time to see him walk into my office with another man. “Come and meet your new client.”

Getting up from my seat, I rounded my table and automatically sent my hand forward in a handshake to introduce myself. But then, I was met with a pair of vicious eyes I’d never forgotten.

“I’ll be damned. Young Soren Dane?” He smiled, chapped lips stretching into a repulsive smile that showed off yellow teeth.

A shudder ran through me as I remembered how those disgusting lips felt brushing against my skin. Swallowing hard, I forced myself to return a smile.

“Robert, right?” I hated myself for remembering his name.

“Indeed, son.” Still shaking my hand, he pulled me close to pat my back, treating me like I truly was his son.

God. I’m about to be sick.

“Knowing my case is in good hands would help me sleep at night,” he added, his hand still squeezing me tight.

Soon, my boss escorted him to a different room, and once they were out, I went straight to the bathroom. At first, I thought washing my face would help, but somehow, I ended up on the stall floor, pouring my guts into the dirty toilet. My whole body was shaking uncontrollably, and I was heaving like a dog in heat. I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand, then leaned back against the stall door. With shaking fingers, I pulled out my phone and typed Ashton a text.

Could you please come and meet me at work?

My thumb hovered over the Send button, but at the last second, I deleted the text and put my phone away. Squeezing my eyes shut, I began crying, tears streaming down my face while I tried to swallow back my sobs and keep my voice down. I couldn’t call Ashton because if I did, he’d find out, and everything would end.

And you know what good boys do? Good boys keep their mouths shut.

My eyes snapped open, and I jumped forward, holding the side of the toilet before hurling again until I was sure I’d die choking on my vomit.