Viscious 2: Cult of Kellan

Spoons.

"He doesn't look like him. It's ok." Dallas tries to soothe, but even though I know this man us obviously not Kellan, he looks equally as deranged and full of ill intent. Dallas draws circles on my back, and I wish I had worn a sweater to hide my goose flesh. I am almost in Dallas's lap as I curl tight against him, hoping somehow to become invisible to the lingering eyes of the stranger. I just wanted to have a semi normal day, and here I have already been recognized and photographed. Tomorrow's headline will be raunchy, no doubt full of speculation and lewd remarks. I can see it in my mind's eye, "Alina the gold digger caught all over ex husband in local theater." Often I wish I knew the background of each person who published such insensitive pieces on me do that I could unearth all of their least proud moments and return the favor of humiliation.

"Hey, chin up. Screw him. He's probably just fawning about how good you look."

"Not helping." Not helping at all. I try to halt my mind from going down that rabbit hole, but Dallas has found a way to tease me and I can tell by his eyes he's going to exploit it.

"He's thinking 'yeah, this is good spank bank material.' When he leaves, he'll crawl back down into a basement somewhere with walls covered in vintage horror movie posters of movies he was always too scared to watch. Alone, in the darkness he will sp-" Shut up. You aren't funny. Not even close.

"Why can't you ever just get laryngitis?" I groan as the corner of my mouth fights to smirk at his words, however gross they are.

"Cause I'm healthy. You feed me good. I take my vitamins. I'm practically impenetrable to germs and diseases. This is prime genetic material, you are in the presence of a-"

"Dork." He smirks and pinches my cheek and I scowl.

"I've always loved your full cheeks. So pinchable."

"Ow! Stop!" He keeps pinching and I begin to fear that tickling will come soon.

I am violent when tickled, and I shove him off with a laugh to try to diffuse the situation. I know if I seem annoyed as I feel, that it will only encourage him to continue. Dallas is a rebel in that way, constantly picking at or challenging me. He feeds off the pestering, and it opens a dangerous loophole.

Funny men are dangerous, he could get you laughing and you drop your guard. Then he goes for the tickle-wrestle combo that enables him to touch you. I've always swore than attractive people can siphon common sense from your body when they touch you. This evidence is backed by the fact that I am for some reason swayed by his hugs or shoulder pats. It weakens my restraint and leaves me second guessing my own behaviors. I do love him, as the love we have for others doesn't dissappear overnight, but I do hate myself the smallest amount for having become so soft after nearly a year of refusing his efforts at reconciliation.

"Alina, you're doing it again." I am alarmed for a moment until I come back to myself.

"What?" I ask, breathlessly.

"That thing. Sometimes when we interact you violently withdraw from my touch and you go really quiet."

"I was afraid you'd tickle me."

"I know you hate tickling. It just makes me feel though like you are physically repulsed by me. I wouldn't be angry, you went through a great deal of shit, but...just promise me if you ever were you would tell me. I worry that my behavior at your home that time-"

"We can talk about this at home." I snap. The topic still turns my stomach. I know Dallas, and I love him in my own way, but that situation kept me awake and frightened for the longest time when I first agreed to stay in his home with him. I had almost considered staying in the rehabilitation center at first.