Looking around the room made me sick. The walls surrounding him were covered with countless photographs of Tara in various states of undress, smiling, sleeping, and even showering. In the corner stood a shrine with her panties displayed like trophies.
A recorder played repeatedly in the background, "Derek, how are you doing? I miss how you made me feel whole."
"Tara, Tara, I'm cumming," Derek cried out passionately.
I retreated silently but the floor made a sound below my foot, Derek didn't hear. He was too lost in his sick fantasy, moaning his stepsister's name as he approached his climax.
I should have known from the beginning that Derek's heart belonged elsewhere.
I first saw Derek volunteering at the children's orphanage, his kindness towards the children captivated me instantly. I fell hard and fast, convinced I'd found someone truly exceptional.
We dated and when he was about to propose, he simply slid the ring across the restaurant table and said, This is yours now. I was too blinded by love to see how cold that was.
Our honeymoon night should have been special. We were finally alone in our hotel room when his phone rang. It was Tara, his stepsister, crying about a nightmare. Derek left immediately and he didn't come back that night.
When he returned the next afternoon, he smelled like her perfume and had a hickey he claimed was a mosquito bite.
Once, I found him in our shower pleasuring himself to Tara's high school portrait. When confronted, he said the photo accidentally fell into the bathroom. I found more photos hidden inside his pillow that night.
Every attempt made to have sex was met with reasons all connected to Tara. She needed help moving furniture. She felt sick. She wanted company for dinner. She called with another crisis.
I tried everything humanly possible to win his attention. Explicit movies to create mood, I booked Expensive restaurant reservations, losing weight but nothing worked. He would always find a reason to leave early or not show up at all.
Now it all made sense. Derek never wanted me. He wanted Tara and I was just a cover.
That night, I slept in the garage unable to face our bed. By morning, my phone showed seventeen missed calls from Derek. I finally answered the eighteenth.
"Where have you been?" he demanded. "I waited all night yesterday. I even hired the best chefs for our anniversary dinner. I thought we could finally be intimate."