Callan ~65~

                                    

                                          
TRIGGER WARNING: Mentions of sexual abuse.
I put my head in my hands, groaning softly and rubbing my eyes. I've been working on blueprints, security, and other things for the main house in LA. I had it improved with security and extra cameras just in case. I didn't want to move but I didn't want Brooklyn to feel unsafe at our house anymore.
I was also designing something a little extra. Since Christmas was coming up in 3 months, I wanted to ensure she got the best gift I could give her. I just hoped she would like it.
I sigh softly and sit up straight, pulling my laptop closer to my lap to finish mapping out where I want the extra cameras. I heard a small knock on the door, making me furrow my eyebrows a little. It was nearly 2 in the morning, surely everyone was asleep by now. 
"Who is it?"
"Your bitch."
"Come in, angel." I chuckle, scooting my back against the headboard and watching as she walks in. She was in short pajama shorts and a tank top, her tanned skin making my mouth salivate. I noticed how her hair was cut even now. Had she cut it herself?
I watched as she walked closer, sitting on the bed beside me and scooting closer. She tried to get a peak of what was on my computer but I turned it away from her before she could. She pouts softly but smiles. 
"Zachary tried to keep me all to himself. I managed to escape though." She grins, chuckling softly. I smile and shut my laptop, placing it to the side and pulling her on my lap.
"Sounds to me like you had your hands full then. How did you know I was still up?" I ask softly, letting her snuggle into me. I inhaled her scent, enjoying how easily she melted into me. She fit against my body like a puzzle piece. 
"Zach told me before he fell asleep. I wanted to ask you something but I don't think it'll be very nice of me to do so." She mutters softly. I sigh and tilt her head up, kissing her softly.
"Darling, you can ask me anything. I'll answer truthfully. I promise." I whisper against her lips. She smiles softly and nods. She sits up and takes a deep breath, trying to get the words out.
"It's embarrassing now." She whines, seeming genuinely frustrated that she couldn't communicate how she wanted to. I rubbed her arms softly, letting her take her time. "After someone has been in my situation, how are they supposed to feel when it comes to being intimate?"
I freeze, realizing Zachary has sent her my way for answers. I had been in a similar position as her. Not nearly as traumatic as either her or Atticus but it was still sexual abuse. 
After my father died, my mother took a liking to drugs and liquor. I was only 15 at the time. I had already hit puberty and I knew very well what sex meant. 
My mother, the very woman who used to hold me and sing to me as I fell asleep, would use me for her own pleasure.
"I was not expecting that question." I chuckle, resting my hands on her hips. She looks down with a frown, making me sigh. "It's different for everyone. Our bodies are completely different. Sometimes we can't control how we feel."
"I'm sorry if this is too forward but... how did you feel?" She whispers, looking at me cautiously. I bite my cheek, thinking.
"At first I was disgusted with myself. I knew it was wrong and I should've stopped it. But I couldn't. As time passed, I felt myself grow distant to the thought of being intimate. That included holding hands with someone or even hugging." I tell her, trying to remember only the parts that I needed to. "Then, as if my hormones died and resurrected again overnight, I became hypersexual."