In-Between the Shadows

17. Changed Thoughts

I didn't tell Daniel of that kiss I had with Jane, but I did tell him that she had been asking me to go on walks with her recently. I said it would be rude to decline her with her sick father and bratty sister. I told him that she needed me and that I was only being a good friend. He left it alone.

Jane and I shared many more kisses, as well as many more walks. We must have walked more than Daniel and I had, I cannot honestly remember. I took her places and bought a few things. I took her out to eat, and I held her hand as we walked through the park.

I did not mind the death stares I got from her sister on occasions, and I did not mind the looks I got from strangers as I whispered compliments in her ear. Her willingness to see me grew. She was already dressed to go out the moment I got through the door, and she gave me timely kisses once the door was closed. I walked her to her door every evening, and I kissed her goodnight when I thought no one was around. 

I shared my work experiences and she listened without a word. She smiled when I kissed her hands, and laughed when I said something funny. I felt something I didn't know I could feel. I thought that maybe this was love.

Daniel and I hadn't seen each other for many days. He was no longer at the table during meals, and I hardly saw him waiting in line for the bathroom. When I did see him, I told him how sorry I was for not being able to chat with him. I told him that I did miss him, and asked if he wanted to go out sometime. 

They were broken promises, but they kept him at bay. I told myself not to worry about him, that Daniel was always just down the hall, and that he liked being alone anyway. He would always be there in the morning, I told myself. He would listen to me talk, and I would listen to him. I was just busy with things. I had Jane and I had work. He wouldn't take it too personally.

Daniel, though, was the least of my worries. It had been almost two weeks, and I still hadn't gotten a letter from home. I was beginning to worry. I asked Miss Quil each day if I had gotten anything in the mail, and each day it was the same: "Sorry dear, but no."

I put it out of my mind. I didn't need to worry. It would come sooner or later. I had already paid my board for the month. I was doing just fine, but I was running low on money for Jane. I had bought her so many things in the past two weeks, that I had to take an extra minute to check all my pockets.

I didn't let this worry spread to Jane, though. The last thing that she needed was for her to think that a doctor to be was someone who can't even afford her a flower. 

Things had slowed down at work, thankfully. After that incident with Michael, Dr. Glass had assigned me patients with temperamental problems which lead to little to no death. I was glad for that, to say the least, though I acted as if it hadn't bothered me whatsoever. The signing of those papers rode on my apathy.

It was just as he had said, it was just a part of the job.

***

I must admit that there were some nights that I still lay awake at night, aware of my surroundings - of the rise and fall of my chest, of the creaking of the bed when I turn to lay on my side. It was on nights such as these that my mind began to wander, but they all ended the same. 

They ended with Daniel.

I pictured him laying beside me. I imagined his sleeping form. Even unconscious, he still managed to look like the God that he was. His lips were puckered like a young child and his cheeks rosy from the cold night air. I prayed that he stayed like that forever, but he was always gone in the morning. 

There was a tightening in my stomach as I thought of the empty space left on my bed, the warmth already absent, until it was only me, alone. I freed myself from those feelings, and instead tried to picture his lips on mine- how he tasted, how he smelt like how it did after it rained. 

I imagined his hands grabbing ahold of my neck, squeezing ever so slightly to let me know that he was there, and not a figure of my imagination. I imagined how he used his other hand to run down the front of my body, stopping where it felt the best. He used the tips of his fingers to tease the lining of the cloth, grazing it. He kissed the corner of my jaw, dragging his tongue along the line. 

He would then whisper my name, ever so slightly, pronouncing every letter against my skin. My hands would rest on his shoulders, my fingers clawing at him the closer he got to the sweet spot.

He would push me down on the bed until he was on top of me, desire pulsing through his usually empty eyes. A satisfied grin would rest on his lips as he lifted my hips up to line up with me, my legs wrapping around his waist.

Sitting back on his knees, he would lift up my nightgown and touch me. He used a hand to stroke it while the other choked me. I would close my eyes. I would marvel at this sense of euphoria.

When he decided that I had enough, he would release his hand, keeping the other one at my throat. I would be forced to open my eyes, begging him for more in the little whimpers that escaped me. He would leave me pleading. I knew he would leave me pleading.

Then, what he'd do, he'd inch his fingers to my mouth, commanding me to wet them. I'd suck on them, casing his fingers with my saliva. He'd pull them out before grinning and slipping them inside me. My body would tremble. I'd lurch forward, but he'd push me back down. I'd grip the sheets as he slid in and out of me. Slow at first, then faster, faster, faster. At last, he'd pull away to spit into his hand that he used to rub himself with.

I would love what was coming next. He'd thrust hard, finding a rhythm. He'd make me say his name, he'd make me scream it. He make me tell him how much I loved it, and I did love it. I loved it so much that I would-.

My hand was soaked and so was my bed. I opened my eyes. I was panting hard, but I was smiling. I was smiling from ear to ear. I got up from my bed and wabbled to my washbasin, washing my hands to rid them of my shameful lust.

I took a minute to rekindle my thoughts over what had just happened before breathing a sigh and heading back to bed.

***

The thoughts didn't stop. Every night for a week they occurred. I couldn't stop myself. It was on impulse, it had become worst than a habit - it had become custom, it had become my way of worship - to myself and Daniel.

Daniel, Daniel, Daniel. His name was after every word that I wanted to speak. His face was all that I could picture.

The walks with Jane took a turn for the worst. Normally, I would listen attentively, but my mind would make a loop, a circle back to those lustful urges that I hated most. I grew aggravated at myself and him. I testified against what was keeping me between my beloved Jane.

My poor Jane! How I had wronged her so! 

I feared to tell her. I refused to. I could not let her know of such things - such horrendous things that swirled around inside me. I could not even begin to explain the underlying trouble that I faced. She wouldn't understand, anyway, my Jane. She wouldn't want to either.

I did what I had to, you must understand that. I told her that my work was growing busy and that I could not possibly take walks with her anymore. Her face when I said such things! My dear Jane couldn't have looked more depressed! I felt like a monster, but I made a promise to myself. I would return to her. I really would. I would come back a new man!

I made it a rule for myself not to think of him, that every time he crossed my mind, I'd think of Jane. I'd think of her pretty face, and her lovely smile, and laugh. I'd think of the things we conversed, and how she looked as we strode down the street together. I'd think of how such a good woman I had come to know, and how she would be a wonderful wife one day.

 I thought about that one for a long time. I would think of how I would marry her and she'd have my children. I pictured myself getting a wonderful job and her at my side as I signed the paperwork. I pictured the house we'd live in and the peaceful life we'd have. While I smoked my pipe, my children would be playing with the family dog while my wife knitted socks for the baby that resided in her. 

I imagined the smiles plastered onto everyone's face as I walked down the street, tipping their hat as I walked by, saying, "There goes Isaac Darlington, a wonderful man and doctor indeed!"

I would become that. I would forget about these thoughts of Daniel Taylor and live my life as it should be - as it would be.