Here’s chapter 9 of the new book, Dr. Clay, I’ve been writing since NaNoWriMo 2022. Enjoy reading. Let me know your thoughts in the comment section below.
“I want to fuck you now,” Clay whispered in Elizabeth’s ear while she sat on the washing machine with the long skirt she wore that day shoved upward and her legs spread wide open, accommodating his entry. He could feel his erection throbbing like it had its own heartbeat.
She thought, at least, whenever she saw these clothes, she wouldn’t remember Anais humiliating her, but Clay taking advantage of it, ripping them off and fuck her good. “Then, fuck me, Clay,” she whispered, prompting him to shove her off-shoulder top down, revealing her nude-colored brassier, which pumped her breasts. He didn’t show hesitation to grab her boob, which has the size of a handful of his hand.
As they continued locking their lips, she unbuckled his belt and pants, and when the zipper was open, she slipped her hand onto his long and thick meat hiding underneath his red boxers. However, after she felt satisfied, she unbuttoned Clay’s long white sleeves and shoved them, revealing his sexy crevices. Her eyes widened in surprise, gasping, and she was on the verge of leaping onto her seat.
“Clay, what’s this?” she said, looking at the tattoos covering his torso.
Though he tried to remain calm, Clay looked at her and saw the disgust on her face. So, he pulled himself away slowly while his eyes continued to examine the look in her eyes. “Liz, we haven’t slept for months now! Why do these tattoos bother you a lot? I mean, seriously!” he said with a frustrated groan, hissing while grabbing his pants and fixing himself in a rush.
“I’m sorry, Clay. I don’t know,” Elizabeth said in tears, staring at him, demanding him to stare her back.
“Do I look disgusting to you?”
“Just because I have all these, you wouldn’t want to sleep with me anymore?”
“I’m sorry. Okay? Could I blame myself for getting distracted with those things around your body when we fuck?”
“Why are these a big deal to you?”
“Why didn’t you tell me about it first?”
Clay scoffed. “Why would I need your permission, Liz?”
“Because I’ll be your wife soon, Clay. So, I guess that’s enough to remind you I’m also responsible for what you do with yourself.”
“Wasn’t marriage rooted for love?”
“Love alone isn’t enough to stand a marriage without trust. I wasn’t asking for you to ask my permission. I asked you to share your burdens with me because I’m supposed to be the person you can lean on when you need me.”
That’s it. We’re done. Though he was getting increasingly emotional, he began to fix himself and continue packing things and acting as if nothing had happened. When he was about to walk out, she grabbed his hand, pleading to stop. Though he wanted to look away to hide his bloodshot eyes and control his gushing disappointment, his affection toward her wouldn’t allow him. So, he gave in and looked at her, thinking what kind of bastard would want to lose this great woman.
“Anyway, let’s go. We’re going to be late,” he said, inviting Elizabeth to fix herself and prepare as they drove back to her home.
“Why do you want to get stuck at San Carlos when you have better opportunities for yourself?” the older man asked, scooping food and glancing at him, making Clay feel uneasy in his seat. “I don’t want to sound like I’m nagging you. It’s not my job to discipline you. But you’re getting married to my daughter, and your wedding is coming. As a concerned parent, I don’t think there’s something wrong with asking about your plans as my future son-in-law, right, Clay?”
Clay nodded. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.” But what should I say now? This thought has kept reeling inside his head in silence, leading to his inability to realize how he disassociated for a minute from his seat.
It was only when he heard Elizabeth clear her throat, glancing at her father, tapping Clay’s back, thinking it would ease him. “Dad, can we drop this conversation? We’re here to celebrate our engagement.”
“I was asking a question. Is there something wrong with what I did?”
Her father looked stocky, with half of his head covered with a mixture of black and gray hairs entwined. Though he looked like he was in his early fifties, he appeared youthful for his age as he threaded his fingers, laced with gold jewelry pieces. He leaned forward towards the table, pressing his chest against the surface, and cast a piercing stare at his daughter. His eyebrows knitted and then arched an eyebrow before he let out a frustrated, confused, awed laugh. “Do you understand what’s going on here, my dear?”
Elizabeth clucked and gave the old man a glare, knitting her eyebrows. “I mean, seriously, dad, stop it.”
“Armando, did you hear what she said?” the woman, who sat nearer to the old man, said loudly, slowly.
“Better shut your mouth up!” Armando sputtered.
“How could you say something like that to my mom!”
At that moment, the old man pushed the chair to stand, and while facing the woman near him, he raised his hand and landed a loud smack on her. Damn, she must have insulted the man that he hit her face so badly that she flew from her seat. Her words and tone must have been so grievous that a woman younger than him found herself in this dire domestic situation.
When she flicked her face to look at the old man, her eyes turned bloodshot and teary as they widened after she noticed him standing near him. While pressing her face with her hand, her eyes saw no husband before her but a monster in fatherly disguise. In her mind, why did she allow herself to be treated like an animal in front of her daughter? Knowing her guaranteed defeat, she looked down and crawled on her toes before she felt Clay’s hand wrapping around her, helping her to stand.
Shortly after she got up, her eyes widened in surprise again when she saw Elizabeth passing in front of her. While she struggled to free herself from Clay’s grip, she wanted to stop her daughter from doing something. However, it was too late. She was too slow to catch up, so when she turned, she heard a loud smack echoing through the wide, silent space.
“How dare you hit mom like that?” Elizabeth sputtered, but she winced when she saw her father raising his arm and was about to hit her face, too. Thinking of saving herself from the pain, she turned, swirling her torso to avoid her father’s fist. Her eyes closed, and she squeezed herself with her arms wrapped around her, looking down.
“How dare you—” Clay said, running towards Elizabeth, and stood, facing her father, to block his attack. But when the old man’s hands pressed on his cheeks with such force, he almost stumbled before his fiancee. However, he managed to keep his balance, and without qualms, he glanced at her, checking whether she was alright. When he saw her squeezing herself, he couldn’t help but squint, feeling her pain. Though she tried to keep an “I’m okay” facade all the time, watching her in that position, where she was supposed to feel at home, was too painful to bear for a softie like him.
Then, there was a loud smack on the skin. And it wasn’t hers. She let out a loud, deep sigh and squealed as she began to open her eyes and pulled her face a bit. She raised herself and turned in her father’s direction. She saw Clay standing behind her with his torso swiveled in the opposite direction.
“Oh, my God, Clay!” She turned and wrapped her hands around Clay’s arm. Though Clay shoved her hands as he raised himself, pushing her back, she resisted his force and grabbed him, demanding his attention. Her eyes widened when she saw her father’s hand marked on Clay’s skin and a nosebleed streaming his nose. “Are you okay?” she said, stuttering in panic. “Why did you do that to him, dad?” Elizabeth screamed, demanding reasons from the old man, who froze as if Clay’s unexpected defense had him stunned.
After glaring at her father, she grabbed and pulled the injured Clay towards her, checking his bruises. While he kept yanking his face, her eyes landed on Clay’s blank, disinterested look. What have I done?
Despite the tense and rushed environment, it was the first moment when Elizabeth that the time stood still—feeling troubled about her fiance’s sudden coldness from the way he looked at her. She thought that those looks weren’t there before. She knew how Clay showed affection through his eyes. But, though she needed it at that time, she felt frustrated when Clay remained amazingly stoic.
He looked at her as if something had died inside him. What’s wrong? Why were you looking at me like that? After their brief exchange of stares, he flicked his head, heading to his belongings, and grabbed them, wanting to leave the scene.
“Clay! Where are you going? Why are you leaving me like this?” Elizabeth screamed while running to catch up with him, though she struggled because of her high heels. “Shit, no way. I’m so fucked up!” Although she tried to speed up until she saw Clay entering his car, crying in an unprecedented defeat while budding stronger defiance against her father.
“I’m going home,” he said, followed by loud, frustrated groans.
“I told you so,” she said with her voice sharpened with anger, swinging her arms to keep her balance as she dashed in his direction with her high heels.
“What do you mean? That it was my fault, your father had hit me? Is that what you’re trying to say?” Clay said in a louder, frustrated tone.
Elizabeth shook her head. “No, that’s what I’m trying to say. But still, you knew this would happen. Yet, you still wanted this to happen.”
“Wait, I should stop you there, Liz. I understand you can’t choose between the two of us, and I don’t want you to choose between him and me. But he wanted to hurt you, and he had hurt me. Then now, you’re defending him?” Clay sputtered.
“I’m afraid to say something because I fear anything I’d say right now might hurt a sensitive Cancer man’s heart.”
Speechless, Clay stood there, sighing in defeat, and looked at her, seemingly confused. He looked as if he struggled to reconcile the words he had heard from Elizabeth. “I wouldn’t have minded if I could hear those words from others but you.”
Elizabeth clucked as if she had realized something. “I’m sorry, okay? I’m sorry for what my dad did to you,” she said, almost begging him, which made Clay plant his hands on his waist to ease the constricted feeling in his chest. He shut his eyes, facing upward to hide his tears, and looking away to avoid looking at his fiancee. “Please. Look at me,” she said slowly but in a louder, demanding tone. She wrapped her arms around him at that time, forcing him to hug her. While doing it, she tried to squeeze herself in his arms, though he kept resisting. “Please, look at me.”
After she said the last time, it was the first time Clay gave in and stared at her, sighing exasperated sighs. Even though they were alone, he felt unsafe, showing his vulnerability. His mind knew Elizabeth wasn’t just any other woman. This is the woman he wanted to be with forever. He liked her so much that he wanted to marry her. That was what he was telling himself from the start.
However, the longer they exchanged gazes, he felt an unfamiliar emptiness. It felt like something had faded, but he didn’t know what it was. And the feeling of walking out was at the top of the caveat, which disturbed him a lot. “Do you truly love me, Love?”
Elizabeth nodded as she tried to reach his hands and kissed them. “Yes, Love. So much.”
“What if you found out I wasn’t the person you thought I would be?”
“Why are you asking me this?” That time, she felt his tears welling up around her eyes, and while she was vulnerable, she allowed his tears to crawl down and dampen his cheeks. As she was doing it, she paused and blinked, looking away, before moving her attention to him again after wiping her tears with the back of her wrists. “How about you? Am I still the person you want to be with for the rest of your life?”
That line made Clay speechless. After tonight? I don’t know, Liz.
Realizing the situation, Elizabeth pressed her lips, looking away, with her arms crossed, wrapping herself. Then, she looked at him with tears crawling down her face, glowering at him. “Don’t tell me somebody has taken my place?”
Clay wanted to shake his head because, in his mind, it was true. Elizabeth Gutierrez still owned his heart. That was certain. However, in hindsight, he knew his feelings may have changed, and at this point, while watching her, he felt it wasn’t like the way he used to anymore.
Realizing the situation, Elizabeth kept squeezing herself against him, though he felt a disinterested and disturbing detachment from her. “No, you can’t do this to me, Love. You can’t leave me. We’ve just gotten ourselves engaged and are in the middle of everything. Don’t tell me just because my father hit you, you’d leave me like this!” she said, begging.
Clay grabbed her hand, thinking it would comfort her, and looked into her eyes. “How long will you keep doing this?”
She shook her head in tears and sighed, desperation coming out of her mouth. Unable to find the right answers, she shook her head and avoided Clay’s stare. “I don’t know,” she said.
“I want to get married to you because I love you. But wanting to join your ongoing domestic issues is another story,” he paused to look at her, examining how she looked at him, and when he felt unsafe to utter another word, he sighed and looked away as he let her go. “Don’t worry. Let’s call this a night.”
Feeling more comfortable, Elizabeth flashed a smile, though Clay barely stretched his lips, which was new to her. Even though she couldn’t figure out what it was, it was painful to watch the man she had loved for a long time lose his romantic battle with her. She flicked her head to hide her tears and wipe herself before moving her attention back to Clay. “You’re right. But, tell me straight right now. Do you still love me?”
Clay nodded. “I still do. I’m just tired.”
She nodded, letting him go. “Alright. Get home safely. Love you.”
He nodded again before turning his back to her, trying to keep himself calm even though he was desperate to escape it. While he kept going, he thought nothing had been right for him after his brief interactions with Valon, which became truer with his encounter with her.
Then, when he turned and saw Elizabeth heading back inside, he sighed, releasing sighs of guilt and frustration. He felt so defeated that he couldn’t open his mouth and explain himself. Learning he was losing his cards, he turned without saying a goddamn word and walked in significant strides, heading to his car parked nearby.
When Elizabeth walked in, she dashed to her mother, sitting alone in the dining area. “How long will you have to endure this, mom? I know we don’t have divorce in this country, but it doesn’t mean you must live like this continually. You could file for annulment and leave dad. This isn’t the life you should live, mom. No. This isn’t the life I want you to live for the rest of your life.”
“I don’t know until I see you and Clay married.”
“Why do you need to wait when you can do it now? Why do you have to wait for me to tie the knot when you could escape now? I mean, now,” Elizabeth sputtered.
She sighed as she looked into her eyes. “I will be restless if I can’t see you having someone to lean on, anak. I can’t bear watching you living, enduring the harsh life without somebody with whom you could share the burdens.”
Her mother’s eyes sharpened as she straightened herself, attempting to stand and feel, dropping this conversation once and for all. “Not until I see you married. I will stay here.”
“Oh my God, mom,” Elizabeth said and sighed, pressing her fingers on her forehead while shutting her eyes and shaking her head in disbelief.
Thank you so much for spending time reading this chapter. I hope you enjoyed it as much as I did when I wrote this part three months ago. This chapter, in particular, reminded me of those times when I sat before my desk, seemingly prepared to type in words, but I struggled to keep it up.
It took an external motivation to get it through, and, at that time, the NaNoWriMo event was upcoming. At that time, I thought, “This could be a great opportunity to try and give this a shot one more time. You’d done an excellent job with ‘The Rival,’ so you could do it, Mecyll.”
You know, it’s easier said than done because writing a chapter with a clear intent to finish it requires more than just a skill. Since I started writing fiction, I realized how much this work demands my ability to be naked and the guarantees to answer whether I was mentally, emotionally, and spiritually prepared to face my fears, conscious or unconscious.
So, being able to write this down meant I managed despite the countless times dancing around with depression and enjoying the roller coaster rides my anxiety provided me.
This is why I don’t know how I could thank you for your support, regardless of the scale or contribution size, from sharing my work with others or buying my books. It doesn’t matter because, for me, every small act you show is appreciated.
Again, thank you, and have a great day!
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