happiness is a butterfly

roses are falling

"If only they knew the real you."

Cassie would whisper these words to him after one of his many nightmares.

Ever since he discovered his dad's amateur porn collection, Nate had this recurring dream of his father fucking him like one of the people in his videos. He would picture him looming over Nate, ready to take him from behind.

This time though, in his dreams, the women in his life would make an appearance as well.

Sometimes there was Maddy, tying him to a bed and slitting his throat with her nail. Once, she even gave birth to a demon who then killed Nate.

In some, Jules would be having sex with Tyler (the real Tyler) as Nate watched from the side of the room. Then Tyler would take a gun and shoot Jules and then himself.

In others, he would be dreaming of kissing Cassie only for there to suddenly be Maddy in his arms.

In the more torturing ones, he would replay the tape of Jules and his dad in his mind. Except, this time, it would be him and Cassie re-enacting the scene.

He could actually feel her soft hair in his hands and her salty tears on his tongue as he pounded into her. Then, he would look up to the mirror above the bed and be faced with the reflection of his father instead. The sound of their skin slapping against one another would start to be drowned by the piercing wail of a newborn in the next room. And when he looked back down, Cassie would be replaced by Nate.

He would wake up crying, his heart beating so fast it felt like it would pop out of his chest.

And Cassie would welcome him in her arms, nestle him against her breast, reassuring him of it being just a dream. Comfort him. Nurture him.

There were times he would wake her up to have sex. Rough, animalistic sex that left bruises on her thighs- fucking her like he was claiming her body.

She would wear the marks on her body proudly, but she would never know these would occur after nightmares of being abused by his father. And that the pain and pleasure inflicted on her body was Nate's reclamation of his masculinity.

So she would give her body and her love.

And he would take, and take, and take.

But also give.

Love.

Or at least, his twisted version of loving.

Sometimes he would wake up and reflect on what these dreams meant, what these visions represented.

To him, they were just another proof that his father had permanently damaged his ability to form a healthy connection with another human being. That his love could only ever be accompanied by pain and suffering. That pleasure for him could only come at the pain of another. That he, like his father, was evil.

Although his father had never touched him that way, his secrets, his perversions, his addictions had forever altered his idea of sex. They had violated him. They haunted him. They ruined him.

"If only they knew the real you."

If you knew the real me, if you saw the monster I am, he would think to himself as Cassie caressed his hair lovingly, you would run away.

But he kept the monster hidden, or tried at least. Tried to be someone she could love, to the best of his ability.

And he would never be able to fully shake off the memories of Cal and the tapes.

And he would continue to go through life replicating these dynamics in the bedroom.

And the woman who loved him would be able to see the damaged soul inside.

And she would understand his need to be in control.

And she would love him.

You know darling, you bring out the worst in me

Sometimes, when I'm around you, I feel like pure evil

I guess they say nobody's perfect but they've never met a devil like you