with.”
“And what makes you think you still have a position,” Jeremy asks. “Within my company?”
“The ink of my signature on the employment contract, Jeremy. Or did you burn that one up just like the other?”
“Ah, but you failed to read between the lines, my dear. Your contract lasted only until the day my company went public. Renewal was left at my discretion.”
“What he giveth, he taketh away,” I quote sarcastically. “I would say I’m surprised, but I’m not. Fine. I won’t go to Stonehart Industries. I’ll go to the cops.”
“Oh, no, the cops,” Jeremy shakes his hands in a childish, off-hand gesture of fear. “Look at me, I’m trembling.” He stops and bears down on me, eyes hard as sapphires. “Please. You and I both know that for an empty threat. You wouldn’t risk what you’ve built here.”
“Watch me,” I say. “I’m not your prisoner anymore. I am a free woman, as you say. Or has that right also been revoked?”
“Nothing’s been revoked, Lilly,” Jeremy says. “Nothing’s even changed. I am still the man you were in love with yesterday. And you…” he says. His hands are on the table, and he suddenly looks extremely sad. “Are still my precious Lilly-Flower.”
The shift in demeanor flies away as quickly as it has come. When he looks at me next, his face is a perfect mask, devoid of emotion.
I laugh. I laugh not from humor, but from spite. I laugh because a frenetic hysteria fills me. The contradictions. The shifting moods. The instability.
The utter chaos and unpredictability that is Jeremy Stonehart.
He looks at me, patiently waiting for my fit to finish.
I keep laughing. I don’t know where it comes from. But it continues to fill me, continues to rise from the depth of my lungs.
Is it the laughter of a desperate woman, or of one half-mad? Those distractions mean little to me at this point. No matter what I do, no matter where I go, my life will always be controlled by Jeremy Stonehart.
This evening, he has proven that.
“Are you done?” he asks finally. He sounds annoyed. Maybe my laughter penetrated through the façade and actually reached him.
“You drive me to these places, Jeremy. I am but the unwitting passenger.”
“Poetic,” he says. He smiles at me in a way that, for a second, makes his face look like that of an animated corpse. “But far from the point.”
“Then what is the point, Jeremy? That you are very much insane? That I am very likely, too? It has to be madness, that keeps me tied to you for so long, after you’ve sheared the bonds.”
“No.” He shakes his head. “It’s not madness, Lilly. You’re just too young to understand. You cannot grasp the concept of it all. It’s love. Undeniably, unsparingly, love.”
“It can’t be love,” I say out loud, “If I’ve decided that I already hate you.”
“Strong passions evoked from the same feelings,” he tells me. “You say it’s hate today. But it’ll transform back to love tomorrow. That is how these things go.”
“You think it’s a cycle?” I sneer. “You think I’ll go back to loving you just like the turn of a wheel? That it’s perpetual?”
“No,” Jeremy says. “I did not say it’s a cycle.”
“Then what?”
“Misattribution.”
I narrow my eyes at his. The throbbing of my cheek has stopped. I can’t much taste the blood anymore.
I think he’d hit me less hard than I first thought. Certainly not with his full strength. I think I felt more the shock of it than the actual physical blow. And the blood? That just happened when I bit my tongue. Totally not his fault.
I hear myself thinking these thoughts, and wonder: Is it utter lunacy? Am I really justifying being beaten?
But the words we’re sharing now? This conversation we’re having? It’s calmed me, somehow. It feels civilized, almost, because that is what it really is.
Besides, he’s piqued my curiosity. “What do you mean, ‘misattribution’?”
“It’s simple,”
“And what makes you think you still have a position,” Jeremy asks. “Within my company?”
“The ink of my signature on the employment contract, Jeremy. Or did you burn that one up just like the other?”
“Ah, but you failed to read between the lines, my dear. Your contract lasted only until the day my company went public. Renewal was left at my discretion.”
“What he giveth, he taketh away,” I quote sarcastically. “I would say I’m surprised, but I’m not. Fine. I won’t go to Stonehart Industries. I’ll go to the cops.”
“Oh, no, the cops,” Jeremy shakes his hands in a childish, off-hand gesture of fear. “Look at me, I’m trembling.” He stops and bears down on me, eyes hard as sapphires. “Please. You and I both know that for an empty threat. You wouldn’t risk what you’ve built here.”
“Watch me,” I say. “I’m not your prisoner anymore. I am a free woman, as you say. Or has that right also been revoked?”
“Nothing’s been revoked, Lilly,” Jeremy says. “Nothing’s even changed. I am still the man you were in love with yesterday. And you…” he says. His hands are on the table, and he suddenly looks extremely sad. “Are still my precious Lilly-Flower.”
The shift in demeanor flies away as quickly as it has come. When he looks at me next, his face is a perfect mask, devoid of emotion.
I laugh. I laugh not from humor, but from spite. I laugh because a frenetic hysteria fills me. The contradictions. The shifting moods. The instability.
The utter chaos and unpredictability that is Jeremy Stonehart.
He looks at me, patiently waiting for my fit to finish.
I keep laughing. I don’t know where it comes from. But it continues to fill me, continues to rise from the depth of my lungs.
Is it the laughter of a desperate woman, or of one half-mad? Those distractions mean little to me at this point. No matter what I do, no matter where I go, my life will always be controlled by Jeremy Stonehart.
This evening, he has proven that.
“Are you done?” he asks finally. He sounds annoyed. Maybe my laughter penetrated through the façade and actually reached him.
“You drive me to these places, Jeremy. I am but the unwitting passenger.”
“Poetic,” he says. He smiles at me in a way that, for a second, makes his face look like that of an animated corpse. “But far from the point.”
“Then what is the point, Jeremy? That you are very much insane? That I am very likely, too? It has to be madness, that keeps me tied to you for so long, after you’ve sheared the bonds.”
“No.” He shakes his head. “It’s not madness, Lilly. You’re just too young to understand. You cannot grasp the concept of it all. It’s love. Undeniably, unsparingly, love.”
“It can’t be love,” I say out loud, “If I’ve decided that I already hate you.”
“Strong passions evoked from the same feelings,” he tells me. “You say it’s hate today. But it’ll transform back to love tomorrow. That is how these things go.”
“You think it’s a cycle?” I sneer. “You think I’ll go back to loving you just like the turn of a wheel? That it’s perpetual?”
“No,” Jeremy says. “I did not say it’s a cycle.”
“Then what?”
“Misattribution.”
I narrow my eyes at his. The throbbing of my cheek has stopped. I can’t much taste the blood anymore.
I think he’d hit me less hard than I first thought. Certainly not with his full strength. I think I felt more the shock of it than the actual physical blow. And the blood? That just happened when I bit my tongue. Totally not his fault.
I hear myself thinking these thoughts, and wonder: Is it utter lunacy? Am I really justifying being beaten?
But the words we’re sharing now? This conversation we’re having? It’s calmed me, somehow. It feels civilized, almost, because that is what it really is.
Besides, he’s piqued my curiosity. “What do you mean, ‘misattribution’?”
“It’s simple,”
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