Chapter 4
Whole weeks passed after that night with the perfume bottle. It became my most loyal companion, perfect in size, texture, the way it filled me up without hurting so much after the first few times. I used it almost every day, hidden in the back of the drawer, cleaned up after each session. But one day, out of nowhere, the magic seemed to fade. It wasn't enough anymore. The pleasure came, but weaker, quicker, and afterward, the emptiness felt even bigger than before.
The sessions got more frequent, turning into a routine. A quick one right when I woke up, still in bed, just to start the day with that good warmth. Another when I got back from school, locked in my room before even dropping my backpack. When I felt sad in the afternoon, which was almost always, I'd head to the bathroom or my room and touch myself slowly until the sadness melted away. And at night, always a longer one before bed, sometimes with the bottle, sometimes just my fingers, until my body got tired and I passed out.
During that time, I managed to tune out everything. My mom's phone calls, complaining about my dad, saying he was going to hell for abandoning the wife he swore before God at the altar to die beside, didn't hit me as hard anymore. I'd listen, give the bare minimum response, and soon after head to my room to relieve the tension that lingered. It was like the pleasure had become a shield. Nothing got to me anymore.
At school, even people seemed to notice something different. Some girls who'd never talked to me would come over and say:
"You cut your hair? You seem less weird lately."
Or
"You're looking prettier, what happened?"
I'd just smile faintly, embarrassed, and stay quiet. I didn't answer. Didn't want to explain, didn't want to share. It was my secret, and I liked it being just mine.
The one who really noticed was my brother. One day he knocked on my door, came in without waiting, and sat on the edge of the bed. I was lying there, pretending to read a school book. He looked at me seriously and asked:
"Hey, Nicole, how's that depression of yours going? You've really vanished these days. If you wanna talk, I'm here, okay? I can help with whatever."
I froze inside. He'd noticed the change, but in the wrong way. He thought I was getting better from the sadness, when really I'd just found a way to hide it better. I looked at him, heart beating quietly, and just shook my head.
"I'm good,"
I said softly. But deep down, I thought: if he knew what I do to feel good... would he still offer to help?
It was one of those sad afternoons when the session dragged on even longer. Like I needed to prove to myself what no one else got, that this pleasure was all mine, and I didn't need anything else. But then, in the middle of it all, the loneliness of the act hit harder. A deafening silence in the room, a darkness that seemed to blind me, an emptiness that came back stronger once the warmth faded. I felt weird, detached from my own body, like it was something separate from me.
"I think I need a boyfriend...,"
I thought, hand still between my legs, frustrated because I couldn't get where I wanted that time. The pleasure built slow, but didn't finish, left everything hanging in the middle.
My mind raced through all the faces I knew, likely and unlikely ones, imagining who could be a prospect. A silly daydream, because deep down I knew none of them would really want anything with me. I was too ordinary, invisible. And if one tried to get close, my mom would make his life hell. She'd call everyone, make a scene, until the guy gave up and disappeared.
At school, it was always like that. No boy ever got really close. The one who sat next to me, Lucas, was polite but barely talked to me. When he did open his mouth, it was to talk about his girlfriend, the stuff they did together. I'd listen closely, pretending it was just normal curiosity, but inside I felt a twist. He was cute, messy hair, low voice. I found him attractive, imagined what it'd be like if he looked at me different. But there was always something that kept me away from all the guys. Fear, shame, my mom's voice in my head.
While those thoughts spun, I looked out the window. The condo courtyard below looked inviting. There was a group my age down there, six or seven of them, laughing, sitting on the low wall, some sneaking smokes. Boys and girls together, living a life that seemed so normal. I'd never talked to any of them. Just watched from above, like always.
Suddenly, a strong urge hit me to go down, to go outside, to at least be near people. I don't know where it came from. Maybe the emptiness after the session, the need to be around folks.
I slipped on an old flip-flop, tied my hair in a simple ponytail, glanced quick in the mirror. Not much to improve: baggy jean shorts, basic t-shirt, clean face. I told my brother, who was on the couch with his video game:
"I'm gonna take a walk downstairs."
He just mumbled a
"okay"
without looking.
I left the house, heart beating a little faster. When the door opened on the ground floor, the afternoon air came in fresh. The laughter got louder now. I stopped at the building exit, half in the shadows, just watching. One of the boys, taller, shirtless because of the heat, was tossing an imaginary ball to another. A girl laughed leaning against him, arm on his shoulder.
I didn't know if I should step forward or run back. But one of them, the tallest, turned his face toward me. Our eyes met for a second. He smiled lightly, like he recognized me from the building, and nodded.
"Hey, come here?"
he said, voice loud enough for me to hear.
My whole body heated up right then. It was too fast, a warmth that rose from my chest to my ears, to my belly, to my legs. I didn't know what to do. I stayed put in the shadows, pretending the nod wasn't for me, looking at the ground like my flip-flop had something interesting.
Then I heard one of them talking loud enough to reach me.
"Dude, cut it out, the girl's autistic, man! You're gonna keep messing around crazy now, what a slip-up."
There was a quick chat among them, low voices, a muffled laugh. The tall guy, the one with the girl hanging off his arm, shook her off and came toward me. I looked back, mapping the escape route to the elevator, but weirdly I didn't run. Something held me there, a strange confidence mixed with the heat that wouldn't stop building.
He was older than me, nineteen maybe, or twenty. Long hair cut messy on purpose, falling in his face. Tattoos all over his arm, black lines I couldn't make out from afar. And an incredibly white smile when he got close.
"Hey, everything good?"
I didn't answer. People were mean to me sometimes. I kept that buried deep. A bunch of idiot friends, and out of nowhere, he comes to talk to me? It was just to get the joke. I stayed quiet, looking to the side.
"Nice to meet you, Fabiano."
He stuck out his hand, came closer without asking, and gave me two quick kisses on the cheek. Fast, but enough for me to catch his scent: a sweaty, delicious man smell.
"Nicole."
"The crew was curious about you. You've lived here forever and no one's ever chatted with you."
I laughed awkwardly, a low sound that slipped out. Didn't know what to say. Looked at his feet, the ground, the pool in the back.
"You're not much of a talker, huh?"
He laughed too, trying to keep the conversation going. Talked about the weather, the heat, asked which building I was from, if I studied around here, if I liked the pool at night. Said he lived in building C, worked at a motorcycle shop, that the new tattoo on his arm still hurt.
I'd answer with one-worders,
"yeah,"
"no,"
"uh-huh,"
looking at him from the corner of my eye, but more directly each time.
And then, out of nowhere, looking at his face, his smile, the way his tattooed arm swung as he talked, it hit me like a bolt—something insane. A desire that crashed down, strong, crazy, left me dizzy. My whole body pulsed, the spot between my legs got wet in a second, my heart raced so hard I thought he'd hear it. It was different from everything I felt alone in my room. Urgent, animal, scary. Stronger.
Fabiano kept talking, desperate to keep the chat alive like if it flickered out, the world would plunge into eternal darkness.
"...so, wanna sit with us? We're just hanging out, nothing big. You smoke?"
I cut in, my voice low but steady, no shake.
"Would you fuck me?"
Where'd that come from? You'll find out soon.