As his memories of Katie and Sam surfaced, so to did other memories. He'd asked Jacob for advice on how to get a girlfriend and Jacob had replied that at Jack's age, he should focus on just going out on lots of dates with lots of different girls. "You can't know what you really want, if all you've ever had is vanilla ice cream. Try all the flavors first, then when you finally pick a flavor, you can do so, certain that it's the right choice." So, he had dredged up the courage to ask a girl out on several occasions. Each time, the girl had firmly declined. And each time, they had done so with a distinct tone of disgust. He'd complained to Jacob, who had just encouraged him to keep trying. But after the fifth rejection, he'd given up. If the rejections had been polite, or neutral, he would have kept trying, but because each rejection was given in disgust, he had begun to think there was something wrong with him, something inherent about him that girls found disgusting. But, with Madison's confession came the possibility that all those rejections had instead been a result of her machinations.
Clamping down a growing mélange of emotions, he asked, "Was it just Katie and Sam? Did you warn off other girls?"
"Um..do you remember back in ninth grade when you shared the advice Jacob gave you?"
He shook his head. He did not, but he had a growing suspicion.
"So, um...it was really obvious who you were going to ask out, long before you actually made a move."
How? How could she have known that? But, regardless of how, he could connect the dots. If she knew who he was going to ask, then she could have secretly said something to them. And clearly that something was not flattering. Otherwise, why would they have responded in disgust, instead of politely declining?
It had been so hard that first time. To build up the courage to ask a girl out. To open himself up like that. And each time after that had been harder and harder. He almost didn't ask that fifth time. The weight of previous disgusted rejections weighing on him. But he'd forced himself to do it, anyway. Not wanting to give in to his fears. Not yet willing to accept the possibility that there was something wrong with him. And now he knew that there wasn't something wrong with him. It had not been his failure. It had been Madison's machinations that had led to his suffering. His self doubt. His withdrawal into himself. Rage slowly grew as the truth was finally revealed.
Still not making eye contact with him, she continued, "You would keep looking at them more than any other person. And you had this look on your face like you couldn't decide if you wanted to leap into a pit of snakes or run away. It was..."
He grabbed her shoulders and shoved her away from himself, pushing her off him to one side, causing her to tumble onto the floor. He stood, filled with furious energy, fists clenched, and stared down at her. His anger was so deep that it was everything he could do to not attack her, to hurt her, to make her feel the pain he had felt; was feeling.
As he glared down at her, vision clouded with rage, she curled into a ball on her side, and began to wail, in anguish.
"I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" she sobbed. "I didn't know, I didn't understand. I'm so sorry. Hate me. Hate me. I deserve it. Whatever you do, I deserve it."
She kept repeating the same things over and over, and as she did, he felt her emotions echo across their bond. Despite his anger, he was still clearheaded enough to understand what she was saying and the underlying emotions she was feeling. She felt remorse, finally understanding the wrongness of what she had done, and anguish at the pain and suffering she had caused him.
As her emotions flowed across their link, he felt his anger subside and transition into a sort of coldness. Not hatred, or disgust, or even dislike. It was more an absence of the prior warmth he had felt for her. Like a warm crackling fire dowsed in cold water, a few glowing embers might remain, hidden, but the rest was cold ash.
He didn't know what to do. He didn't hate her. Not really. Intellectually, he understood what she had done, and why. And it wasn't like she'd murdered anyone. But she had, unknowingly or not, been the architect of his earlier suffering and festering self doubt. And he could not bring himself to just forgive and forget. He also could not bring himself to push her away. He could feel what she felt, her desperation for connection, and it was something he understood. To push her way would be more cruel than what she had done to him, because it would be with full knowledge. So, he was left conflicted. Part of him wanted to forgive her and just move one, and part of him wanted her to suffer, to somehow make restitution.
"Madison."
She continued to softly wail her litany of apologies and self recriminations.
He nudged her with his foot.
"Madison!"
She hiccupped, then looked up at him.
"What do I do with you?" he asked. She had always been the smarter of the two of them. Quicker to make connections, faster at intuiting solutions. So, his question was more instinctive than it was intentional.
She awkwardly climbed up off the floor and stood, head downcast, arms wrapped around herself.
"Use me," she said.
"What?" How was that a solution?
"Use me," she said again. "You don't trust me, not emotionally anyway, but you can't bring yourself to punch me, to hurt me. So, use me. Make use of me. Treat me like a servant, or even a slave. Get as much value out of me as you can."
Without the soul bond, he would never have believed or been willing to accept the answer she was giving. But with the bond, he could feel her fervent devotion singing to him over their connection. He knew with absolute certainty that she genuinely wanted to be used by him, to be of use to him. And, as a shiver ran up his spine, he realized she didn't care what he did with her, or to her, as long as she was with him. The only thing he could do that she would view as actual punishment would be to separate from her, to deny her access to him. To wall himself off from her. As long as she was near him, in orbit around him, she would be content. It was a stunning and disturbing realization. Without the soul bond, he would never believe it, no matter what she did or said. With the soul bond, he could not deny the truth of it.
He couldn't bring himself to hug her or tell her that all was forgiven, because that would be a lie. He was still upset, disturbed.
So, instead he placed his hand on her head, and, overcome by a sudden impulse, said, "You are mine."
She dropped her arms down and clasped her hands in front of her, then fervently, but with a hint of humor, she replied, "Yes, master."