Listen, Obey

18. Eighteenth Lesson

Guilt.

It was something I had fled from my entire life. Every time someone tried to make me feel guilty, I made it my mission to do the opposite of what they wanted. It was a defense mechanism, or perhaps a statement about my right to freedom. But now it didn't feel as simple. My first reaction wasn't to walk out and forget all about Tilia and her father; my first reaction wasn't selfish to the extent it used to be.

I wanted to find a way to fix this, even if I knew it was most likely a lost case already.

It struck me that I should have wondered why Matthews allowed me to watch his daughter if he knew what I had done in my past; how low I had sunken. The very reason why I entered his BDSM club to begin with was that I didn't think I could stay off the drugs on my own. In my imagination, I believed that the form of structure present in a D/s relationship would help me stay on the path I wanted to keep, so the risk of temptation remained high. I still thought of drugs as a way to escape all my problems, even if I knew that it wasn't the solver but a bit part of the problem.

No father in their right mind would entrust their daughter with me.

Tilia was silent, looking at her feet instead of me. My lack of answer had been confirmation enough. Sitting down on my knees, I did the only thing I could think of: I hugged her close. She didn't sob this time, and she didn't relax. Her body remained stiff, and everything I wanted to say remained locked up in my throat.

"Dinner's ready," Matthews called from downstairs.

Tilia stirred, but didn't make any effort to move away from me.

"Let's go down and eat something," I suggested.

"I'm not hungry."

As she said it, her stomach rumbled a little. However, I didn't want to push her.

"Let's go down to your daddy at least. He needs some company."

That seemed like a better suggestion because I could feel her nodding on my shoulder. Our hug ended and we made our way downstairs. Matthews had made the table in the dining area and was carrying the large pot of chili to the table.

"I hope you two are hungry because I made a lot of food."

I was thrown into another bout of confusion—not because of what he said, but because of his kindness. I had done nothing to deserve this. They shouldn't include me. It didn't matter that it was just a simple dinner; it was the gesture in itself.

Recalling the conversation with Lisa, I repeated to myself that I didn't want him to know. I would just say that I couldn't work with this, but I had no idea when I would find the right moment to voice it. This certainly wasn't it, even if I was bursting to say something to get rid of all the stress inside of me.

"Why don't you join us, Ethan."

Matthews words threw me out of my thoughts, and I realized that I was rooted to the floor in the center of the room. He was nodding at me to take the chair opposite of him. My feet started to move on their own, and this time I silently thanked them. I didn't want this situation to be even more awkward than it already was.

"Give me your plate, Tilia." Matthews said as I sat down.

"I'm not hungry."

Matthews seemed surprised—his eyebrows twitched and his smile vanished entirely. "Of course you are, honey."

"No."

Matthews looked at me, as if I would provide an answer. I did have one, but I had no idea how to express what happened mere minutes ago.