The Unraveling of Nikki Kim

"It was just one girl, Nikki," Steve said defensively. "I dunno if you can say he's 'into' Asian girls."

"One girl that you know of," I said, capping the lotion. "I guess we'll just have to see who he brings home next, since you told him he can do whatever he wants."

"Look, for the last time--I don't care who Johan fucks!" Steve grumbled, rubbing his temples in exasperation. "As long as he keeps it to himself, it's none of my business, and I really don't wanna know about it."

"Okay, honey, I understand," I leaned over, gently kissing my husband on the lips. "We can stop talking about it and go to bed. I'm sorry I brought it up."

"It's fine," he said, turning off his bedside lamp. "Let's just make sure Danny doesn't wander down there in the morning again before school."

"Actually, we should all probably steer clear of the in-law until after breakfast," I whispered, turning my own light off. "Just in case he has company again."

"Good idea," Steve yawned. "Let's just give him some space and he'll be gone in a few days."

...

With the lights off, I lay in bed staring at the ceiling, listening to Steve snoring peacefully beside me. I was exhausted, but without my Ambien, I knew sleep would be elusive. There was so much going on inside me that the stillness of the night felt deafening.

I'd tried to talk to Steve about what was going on, but the conversation hadn't gone anywhere. Some of that was my fault. I'm much better at suppressing my feelings than I am at speaking openly about what's going on inside me. My parents never talked much about their feelings, so I never learned how to talk about myself without getting embarrassed.

Because of this, I try to talk around myself, to situate myself next to the subject rather than making myself the center of attention. I know this is a weakness of mine, that it feels like I'm speaking in riddles rather than being straight up with someone. But sometimes it's the only way that I feel comfortable sharing my thoughts.

So I tried to bring up my situation with Johan by talking to Steve about the young Asian girl he'd slept with two nights earlier. I'd tried to tell him that I needed him to take a firmer stance with Johan, to let him know that he had to assert himself as the man of the house. I'd told him about Nina because I wanted him to protect me from Johan, just like my Dad tried to defend my sister from the white boys who were constantly sniffing around her.

But despite everything I said to him, Steve didn't seem to care what Johan did. And it seemed to me that could only mean one of two things:

One possibility was that Steve didn't get the real meaning of what I was trying to tell him. That made me sad, because it implied that even after 14 years of marriage and two children, my husband still didn't understand me.

But the other possibility--the one I desperately wanted to disbelieve but couldn't seem to completely dismiss--was that Johan was right about my husband. That Steve knew, or at least sensed, that something dark was going on between me and Johan. That he was deliberately choosing not to intervene because some part of him was excited by the idea that this aggressive white college boy was trying to fuck his beautiful, big-breasted Korean wife.

I knew I couldn't allow myself to think this way about my husband. What kind of disgusting impulse would compel Steve to let his wife become another man's prey? But it was hard not to remember the way Johan had talked about him back in Sydney, the way he'd insisted over and over that it would turn my husband on to know that I had succumb to a younger man with a bigger dick.

"He knows you need to fuck young white studs, even if he won't admit it..."

I shook my head violently, trying to dash Johan's voice from my mind. But it was almost as if he had infected me with his sick, twisted view of my husband, because now I couldn't stop myself from reading this interpretation into everything Steve said or did.

But whether Steve knew it or not, Johan had now driven me to the precipice of what felt like a total nervous breakdown.

I was exhausted from the stress of hiding my secret and the constant fear that it would be revealed. I'd become suspicious of my husband and had started second-guessing our marriage. I couldn't sleep because the guilt and shame were devouring me from the inside out. I'd become dependent on sleeping pills just to get me through the night, but now, Johan had taken even those. And to top it all off, I didn't even have clean underwear anymore. My last normal bra and pair of panties was hanging in the bathroom, sweaty and gross after having been worn for two days straight. Johan had taken everything else, except the lingerie set still sitting in my top drawer, the one he was trying to bully me into wearing for him.

Lying in bed, passing one sleepless hour after another, I felt my trepidation giving way to a sense of indignation. Johan had already taken so much from me, yet it was clear that I couldn't rely on my husband to deal with this insatiable young man who had stalked me from one continent to another.

Finally, at around 1:30AM, I sat up in bed. I couldn't just lie here all night, sleepless and afraid, a prisoner in my own home. If I wanted to reclaim my life from Johan, I was going to have to do it myself.

Quietly, I slipped out of bed and walked to the closet. I grabbed my bathrobe and wrapped it around my sleep clothes, which consisted of one of Steve's old t-shirts and a pair of soft, cotton shorts with an elastic waistband.

Briefly, I contemplated whether I should put my dirty underwear back on, but the thought alone grossed me out. Beside, if things went according to plan, I'd be back in bed before anyone saw me.

Because the thought that had gotten me out of bed was this: If Johan can steal from me, then I can steal from him.

Wrapped in my bathrobe, I tiptoed through the house, slipping on a pair of flip-flops and sliding the screen door open. There, just a short distance away, I saw that the in-law unit was completely dark.

As I stood in the backyard, feeling the cool night air on my skin, I went over the possibilities:

First, it was possible that Johan was out in LA somewhere. If that were true and the in-law unit was empty, I could rummage through it until I found where he had stashed my Ambien. And I might even find my missing underwear, if he was lying about having thrown them away.

It was also possible that he was home, and that he'd brought another girl over. That might make it hard for me to find my pills, but if he was with another girl, that would at least prevent him from trying to make a pass at me.

A third possibility--the one that had occurred to me during my sleepless hours--was that perhaps he had actually taken some of my Ambien. If so, I knew from experience that he'd be in a deep sleep and difficult to wake, especially in the middle of the night. This would afford me the chance to snoop around in the dark. Maybe I could find my pills, but even if I didn't, perhaps I could take his phone or his wallet, something that I could bargain with in the morning.

Of course, I knew that there was another possibility, too.

If Johan was still up, or if he was just sleeping lightly, then I'd have to be extremely careful, because this plan would require me to break the two most important rules I'd laid out for myself prior to his arrival: No being alone with him. And no visits to the in-law unit.

But I'd made those rules before his arrival, and the situation had changed. I hadn't expected that Johan would steal from me, that he would take my medication and use it as leverage. Johan was playing dirty, and he was pulling me down into the mud with him. It felt like my only choice was to beat him at his own game.

Slowly, I walked across the backyard, quietly opening the gate to the privacy fence. Then, I snuck up to the window and peered inside the in-law unit.

The room was totally dark inside, which made it impossible to see anything. There was no way to tell whether Johan was home or not, but if he was, he had to be sleeping. Unless he wasn't.

I crept silently over to the door, pausing to collect myself and go over my plan.

When you open the door, look to see if he's in bed. See if there's anyone else with him.

Watch for movement, any sign that he's awake.

Let your eyes adjust to the room before you move. See if you can spot the Ambien, or your underwear, or anything of his that might be valuable.

If he wakes up, don't panic. Just move into a position where you have a clear path to the door. Don't let him trap you like he did in Sydney.

Then, it was time. Let's do this, I thought to myself, a rush of adrenaline coursing down my spine.

I slipped out of my flip-flops. Ever so slowly, I turned the handle of the door, easing it open an inch at a time, just enough so that I could squeeze myself through sideways. Then, just as gently, I closed the door behind me, making sure to leave it cracked so that I could push it open again without twisting the handle.

Now I was standing, barefoot and in my bathrobe, inside the in-law unit. And as my eyes adjusted to the darkness, I could see the outline of a person sprawled out on the queen size bed in front of me.

It was Johan. And he was alone.

He was motionless, except that I could see his shirtless chest rising and falling rhythmically as his broad, expansive torso filled with air. But unlike Steve, who snored like a lawnmower on a nightly basis, Johan's breathing was almost silent, a gentle hum like the engine of an expensive electric car.

Surveying the room, it didn't take long for me to spot what I was looking for.

The bottle of Ambien was sitting on the nightstand next to Johan's bed. It was almost exactly where you would expect to find it if someone was actually using it as a sleep aid.

Maybe he really did take one, I thought to myself. Maybe that's why he's able to sleep so quietly, so deeply. I felt a moment of bitter envy for the hours I'd spent lying awake without my meds.

It was only 10 feet away. The thought of recovering it--of taking something back from Johan--was intoxicating. I just had to walk over and get it.

I took one careful, tentative step towards the nightstand. Then another. Then another.

Now I was close enough to the bed that I had to be extremely cautious. The bottle of Ambien was nearly within my reach reach, but that meant that I was nearly within Johan's reach, too.

I was about to take another step when I noticed something.

Johan's breathing was still steady. He hadn't moved. And his eyes were still closed. But now his lips had curved to form a smirk, the likes of which I'd never seen on a sleeping person's face.

I hesitated. Had that expression been on his face the whole time? Was this just the way he looked when he slept? Maybe he was just having a pleasant dream. Or maybe this was my nightmare.

"Come to bed, Nikki," I heard him whispered, his eyes still closed.

"Oh shit!" I yelled in fear, leaping backwards from the shock, tripping over myself as I retreated back towards the door.

Slowly, Johan sat up in bed, opening his eyes.

"Come to bed," he said again, gesturing from me to come towards him.

"Fuck--you--you scared the shit out of me!" I yelled, my heart racing. I had my hand on the door handle, ready to run out if he got up. "Were you... were you awake this whole time?"

"Come to bed, Nikki," he said again, his voice calm and measured. "You know this is where you belong."

"I just came to get my pills," I said, my voice returning to its normal volume even as my heart continued to race. "The pills you stole from me."

"We both know that's not why you're here," Johan purred, folding his long, lean arms behind his head.

"Yes, it is," I insisted. "I need those pills to sleep, so--so give them back."

"These pills are for sharing, Nikki," he said softly, lifting the bottle and giving it a gentle rattle. "So come over here and share one with me."

"This is not a game!" I said, my voicing rising again. "I fucking need those, Johan!"

"Have you ever had sex on Ambien, Nikki?" he said, unscrewing the bottle. "It feels so fucking good, and it lasts forever."

I was so high-strung from sleep deprivation and anxiety that it felt like something inside me was about to snap.

"Why--why are you doing this?" I cried, my voice hoarse. "Why are you trying to ruin my life?"

"C'mon, Nikki," he smirked, a sheepish look on his face. "You're the only one ruining your life."

"Fuck you!" I yelled, stomping my foot. "Fuck you, Johan! Go and fuck another Asian college girl and just leave me alone!"

"Is that what you're upset about?" he chuckled, taking an Ambien out of the bottle. "Talia, the girl from the other night?"

"I don't give a fuck about her!" I yelled. "I just want my damn pills!"

"You know, she was just target practice," he grinned. "But in South Africa, we're big game hunters."

"Shut up!" I yelled. "Just shut up!"

"You know, it's funny," he said, playing with the pill between his thumb and forefinger. "You know what I love about Filipino girls like her?"

"Jesus Christ, just stop," I said, a pleading note entering my voice. "I'm so tired, so just stop talking..."

"They're so uninhibited," he continued. "They know exactly what they want, and they aren't ashamed of it."

"I can't do this, Johan," I said, raking my hands through my hair like a crazy person. "I need to sleep..."

"But what's funny is, I'm obsessed with you for the opposite reason," he said, scratching his chin. "I've never seen a girl work so hard to deny what she really wants."

"I need my Ambien," I said, my voice breaking badly, reeking of desperation. "That's what I want. I need my fucking pills..."

"What gets me so fucking hard is watching how far you'll go to fight the truth," he said, reaching his hand into his shorts. "But you can't deny what your body needs..."

"Don't--don't fucking do that," I said, turning my face away. "I don't wanna see that."

"You can deny it all you want," he sneered, pulling out his cock. "Right up until the moment you open your robe for me like a good little Asian slutwife."

Inside the dim, moonlight room, I saw Johan's hardness spring to attention, freed from the confines of his shorts. In the darkness, it looked like some kind of obelisk rising grotesquely from the angular landscape of his body, a throbbing pillar of teenage lust. He lay on the bed, one arm tucked behind his head, the other holding the base of his shaft.

"Goddammit Johan, put your dick away!" I yelled. "I'm not here for that."

"Why are you still lying to yourself, Nikki?" he said, beginning to stroke himself. "What are you so afraid of?"

"Are you some kind of sociopath?!" I cried. "I'm a married woman! Why are you trying to ruin my marriage? Why do you want to destroy my family?"

"But this is what your husband wants, Nikki," he growled. "He wants to watch you become a white cock slut..."

"Stop talking about him!" I screamed. "Stop messing with my life!"

"Why do you think he invited me here without even asking you?" Johan sneered. "Why do you think he's letting me do whatever I want?"

"Because he doesn't know about you!" I yelled. "Because I'm killing myself trying to keep him from finding out!"

"So just tell him," Johan smirked. "Tell him what I do to you. Tell him how you are with me..."

"You're such a fucking bastard," I spat. "How do you live with yourself?"

"Tell him how much bigger I am," he continued. "Tell him how much better I fuck you. Tell him that I'm the only alpha in your life now."

As he spoke and as he stroked, I could see that his oversized tool was still filling with blood, still getting harder, longer, and thicker with every passing moment.

"You don't have to worry, Nikki," Johan said soothingly. "He's not going to leave you. Why don't you go up there and tell him right now? Then he can come down and watch me fuck you on Ambien. We'll put on a show for him."

"You're fucking crazy," I said, shaking my head. "Do you really believe the shit you say?"

"How come I understand your husband so much better than you do?" Johan sneered. "You're in denial about your husband, just like you're in denial about yourself."

"You don't know anything about my family!" I screamed, clenching my fists.

"I know about your sister, too," he smiled. "I can tell she's a white cock slut, just like you."

I could feel the rage building inside me. Johan was pushing every one of my buttons, disrespecting my husband, now my sister. He thought he could talk as much shit as he wanted and I would just stand there and take it.

"FUCK YOU!" I screamed, stepping towards him. "I FUCKING HATE YOU!"

"Maybe," he sneered, his eyes narrowing. "But you're still gonna let me fuck you..."

"JUST GIVE ME MY FUCKING PILLS!" I screamed, walking heedlessly towards the bed, animated by rage. "I NEED MY FUCKING PILLS!"

"You want these pills, Nikki?" he smiled, holding the bottle aloft, letting it rattle. "Come get them, then."

Without thinking, I lunged forward, grabbing at the bottle in Johan's hands. But he moved it deftly out of reach.

"Come get it," he purred, holding it on the other side of his body as if he were playing a child's game of keep-away. "Just take it."

I was standing right next to the bed now, dangerously close to Johan, who was still stroking himself with one hand as he held the bottle of Ambien in the other.

"GIVE IT TO ME!" I screamed, reaching forward and slapping him across the face as hard I could. "GIVE IT TO ME, YOU FUCKING BASTARD!"

He absorbed the blow, then looked back up at me, his face reddening from the force.

"Hit me again," he whispered venomously. "Hit me again and I'll give it to you."

Without thinking, I raised my hand to strike him a second time.

"FUCK YOU!" I screamed, bringing my hand down.

But before my hand could reach his face, Johan shifted his weight, rolling towards me and wrapping his arm around my waist.

"FUCK--FUCK YOU!" I yelled as he pulled me down, tumbling into the bed with him. "GIVE ME IT TO ME!"

"I'm going to," he smiled savagely.

Suddenly, I found myself lying on the bed next to him, his enormous cock poking against my abdomen through my bathrobe. We were facing each other, and Johan had his hand wrapped around my throat.

"What--what are you doing?" I murmured, my rage melting into terror as I realized the danger I was in. "L--let me go, Johan..."

"Relax, Nikki," he whispered, smiling at me. "I'm not going to hurt you."

"Let me go," I said, squirming frantically. "Let go of my throat..."

"I will, in a minute," he said slowly. "Once you calm down."

I tried to breathe, and I realized that my airway wasn't being restricted. Johan wasn't applying any pressure--his fingers were wrapped lightly around my throat, but his touch was almost gentle. Still, I knew that could change at any moment.

"I'm calm," I said, trying to ignore my racing heartbeat. "So let me go."

"I thought you wanted an Ambien," he said, holding up the loose pill he had been playing with in bed. "Isn't that what you said?"

"Just--just let me go," I pleaded, trying to push him away but afraid to fight him, fearful that he would choke me.

"But don't you want to sleep, Nikki?" he purred, giving my throat a light, menacing squeeze. "Let me help you sleep, okay?"

I didn't know if it was the danger of the situation, the feeling of Johan's fingers around my neck, or the sound of his German-South African accent whispering in my ear, but to my horror, I realized that my nipples had begun to harden involuntarily beneath my bathrobe.

"Don't hurt me," I whispered. "P--please don't hurt me."

"I'm gonna give you this Ambien, okay?" he said softly. "But you aren't allowed to swallow it. Just put it under your tongue and keep it there until it dissolves."