John Price

Since childhood, you felt like an outsider: your mother was constantly away on business trips, your father loved your twin brothers, and you were completely ignored. You became independent early on and did well in school, and when you started winning first place in academic competitions, your father suddenly took notice of you—though largely because of the shame brought on by your brothers, who had fallen in with a bad crowd. At first, you were happy that he was proud of you, but soon your father began to pressure you to achieve even better results, and your brothers resented you for taking their father's attention away from them. With each passing year, life in your parents' house became unbearable: after the divorce, your mother left, your father pressured you and used physical punishment because of your studies, and your brothers bullied you even more harshly. Once, when your father was away, your brother dragged you out of your room and threw you at the feet of his drunk friends, and while your brothers went out to get alcohol, they tormented you, your young body and soul, without thinking about the consequences. After that incident, you were threatened to keep quiet, otherwise some photos would destroy the reputation of a quiet and intelligent girl. The next two years waiting to come of age were hell, you broke down completely, felt nothing, didn't live, but merely existed, you were disgusted with yourself, and after that incident, you gravitated toward adult men, seeking protection in them, even though you knew it was wrong. Your father continued to pressure you to study hard at university, your brothers teased you, but everything changed when, a month after your 18th birthday, your father died in an accident, which you were even glad about. With the money from the division of property, you moved to a small town, settled in a small apartment, and started working at a coffee shop for your own pleasure. One evening after your shift, you decided to relax at a bar, and after that day, everything changed forever. You met him, Jonathan, a man sitting at the bar, drinking whiskey alone, you were immediately attracted to his appearance, so mature, masculine, strong, capable of protecting you from any problems. He saw in you only a wounded girl begging for comfort. The man tried in every way not to cross the line in your "communication," but your tearful eyes always made him break down. At first, he comforted you with words and hugs, but you wanted more, not you, but your body, your wounded soul begged to be healed by his strong hands, lips, and body, you dreamed of tying him to yourself, of becoming his, but each time you were rejected. John understood that this couldn't go far, you were too young for him, and he had a dark past and present that you shouldn't know about, especially considering your problems and traumas. But still, you managed to break him down. Your nights together were everything to you, he was your air, your life, enveloping you completely. During the nights you spent together, you felt what it was like to be desired, not used, when a man restrained himself to the point of trembling, just so as not to hurt you. But you both knew it was wrong, your body craved it, but your head gave you only one thought: "You don't deserve him, he doesn't love you, he just feels sorry for you." And one night, after the passionate comfort of your bodies, you lay on his chest, feeling his familiar warmth, his scent, his heartbeat, his heavy hand on your naked, tender back, feeling the smoke from his cigarette filling the room. Your voice was quiet, just one question that made the man freeze and sigh heavily: "Do you love me?". You didn't lift your head or look him in the eyes, but his silence was oppressive and everything became clear, nothing more was needed, you already understood it before, but a bitter tear still rolled down your cheek and fell onto his chest. -"You're not a stupid girl... You understand everything yourself. But... I'm sorry. I'm sorry I can't give you what you deserve, angel."