The Sentinel's Conduit

| 5 | Seeds of Self-Destruction

◈ Celia ◈

I lead Amon into the mansion, my hand still in his, feeling like a prisoner being led to the gallows. We make our way to one of the guest rooms, and I immediately move to the bed, plopping down with a sigh of relief.

My feet are KILLING me.

It's the price I pay for vanity. I knew I shouldn't have worn these heels, but I just couldn't help myself. Beauty has a price, and I'm always willing to pay it.

I kick my heels off, watching as they tumble to the floor, a small sense of satisfaction washing over me. Amon takes the chair positioned at the corner of the room, moving to sit in front of me. We stare at each other in silence, the weight of our history hanging heavy in the air.

The room is dimly lit, the soft glow of the bedside lamp casting shadows across his face. His dark eyes are intense, searching mine for answers I'm not sure I have.

We've known each other since we were five, two kids running around without a care in the world. We started dating when we were sixteen, young and naive, thinking our love could conquer all. For nine years, I thought we were it, that we were going to get married eventually. I kept waiting for him to propose, dropping hints like breadcrumbs, but he never did.

Maybe I was a little too subtle.

...

Who am I kidding? I was as subtle as a hurricane in September.

Then, about two weeks ago, I went over to his apartment, letting myself in with the key he gave me. I walked into the bedroom, expecting to surprise him, only to find my friend Stephanie on her knees in front of him, with little Amon in her mouth.

The memory stings, the burning betrayal churning my insides. It's as if I've been slapped—or worse, called ugly. Pulling myself out of the flashback, I ask, my voice barely above a whisper, "How long were you cheating on me?"

Amon sighs, leaning back in the chair. "At last year's ball, she kissed me, and..." his voice trails off, and I scoff, feeling the bridge of my nose sting, tears threatening to gather at the brim of my eyes.

A whole year. An entire fucking year, and I had no idea.

I was walking around like a fool, thinking we were happy, thinking we were in love, while he was off fucking my friend behind my back.

Amon shakes his head, a look of frustration crossing his features. "You don't get it, Celia. You've had it all your entire life. You don't know the struggle the rest of us face, especially being black."

I laugh, the sound harsh and bitter, echoing off the walls of the small room. "Really? You're pulling the race card? What? Is being black supposed to excuse you from being a cheater? Is being unfaithful some special genetic gene only black people have?" I can see the anger rising on his face, his nostrils flaring at my sarcasm, but I don't care.

I stand up, pacing the room, my bare feet sinking into the plush carpet. "So, because I'm not black, I don't understand the struggle? What is this, 2024?" I snap my fingers in front of his face, my own anger rising with each word. "Wake the fuck up, Amon. The black card doesn't work anymore. We're all the minority. We're all fucking dying! You don't get to use the race excuse."

Amon jumps up from his chair, his face contorted with rage, his fists clenched at his sides. "See? This is exactly what I'm talking about! You're so fucking privileged, you can't even see it. You think just because we're all in this together, that makes us equal? Bullshit!"

I step closer, getting right in his face as I jab my finger into his chest. "Oh, spare me the social justice warrior crap, Amon. You cheated on me! You betrayed me! And now you want to make this about race? About privilege? Fuck you!"

"Fuck me? Fuck you, Celia! You've never had to work for anything in your life. Everything's been handed to you on a silver fucking platter. You don't know what it's like to struggle, to fight for every scrap of respect and dignity."

"And you think that gives you the right to cheat? To lie? To fucking break my heart?" I'm screaming now, tears streaming down my face. "I loved you, Amon! I trusted you! And you threw it all away for what? For her?"

Amon's face softens, just a fraction, his shoulders slumping. "Celia, I... I'm sorry, okay? I never meant to hurt you."

"But you did. You did hurt me. And now...I can't...I can't trust you. I—" my voice cracks, and suddenly, I can't find it anymore. I open my mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. There's this great big knot in my throat, my eyebrows furrowing, the corners of my lips twitching.

Don't cry. Don't fucking cry. You'll ruin your mascara. You're not a little bitch. Don't cry.

But I can't help it. Not when he reaches out, his hand cupping my cheek as a soft sob breaks from my lips. "You can trust me, Celia. I know I fucked up, but...but I still love you. I never stopped loving you."

I want to pull away, to slap his hand off my face and tell him to go to hell. But something in his eyes, in the way he's looking at me, makes me hesitate. It makes me want to believe him, even though I know I shouldn't.

"Amon..." I whisper, my voice breaking.

Then, he's kissing me. He's kissing me and I don't stop him, giving into the desperate urgency of his lips against mine. I know I should push him away, that this is a mistake, but I can't seem to make myself stop. Instead, I kiss him back, my arms snaking around his shoulders, pulling him closer.

We stumble back onto the bed, our bodies intertwined, our clothes slowly falling away. It's like a dance we've done a thousand times before, but this time, it feels different. This time, it feels like goodbye.

As Amon's hands roam my body, as his lips trail down my neck, I try to lose myself in the moment. I try to forget about the sacrifices, about my father's secrets, about the world outside this room. But even as I let him defile me, even as I defile him, using one another in a desperate chase for an orgasm, playing the childish game of surface-level pleasure, I can't shake the feeling that this is wrong.

This isn't what I want.

Still, I push the thought away. I push it away because it's easier to try to convince myself that I just need a moment's release than to accept that this is wrong in more ways than one. It's easier to tell myself that it's just sex than it is to accept that what this really is, is detrimental, at best.

So I give in, letting Amon take me, letting him make me forget, losing myself in a lie, even if it's just for a little while.