Breach special edition 3.., p.21
Breach Special Edition: 3rd Anniversary Boxset, page 21
Ignoring them, I poured the liquid into a cup. My hand reached for the creamer, but it was blocked by Tiffany.
She refused to step aside. “I can’t believe you left Nathan to do all of your work. Do you have any idea how swamped he was? He worked like a dog all day and then left, to sleep.”
I sighed and pushed a strand of loose hair behind my ear.
“We offered to help, but he was too nice to accept it,” Jennifer said. “He knows what his responsibilities are and doesn’t go gallivanting around for days”
At that, I laughed. It was almost maniacal, but I already knew I wasn’t mentally stable anymore, so I paid no attention to it. They all stared at me.
Yup, I’ve gone insane. Fuck you.
“I’m so sorry to hear he was having such trouble handling things for three days while I was hospitalized,” I said, sneering at them all. “Your concern is touching as were your offers to help. Amazing, isn’t it, that I did it all by myself for over four months, and not once did any of you even attempt to assist me or see if I was okay. Huh.”
My hand flicked, spilling the coffee all over the counter and splashing onto Tiffany before pushing past them and back out the door. I stormed back into the office and sat down. I heard Nathan make a sound like he was about to speak, but then changed his mind. I didn’t look at him or try to find out what he wanted. I didn’t give a damn what he thought anymore. I couldn’t afford to. The cost was too high.
The combination of my outburst and Nathan’s mood kept the Boob Squad away from our office for the remainder of the week. It was in the rare instances that they actually did need help that they would brave an entrance into our cave. Not only had the mountains returned and we were drowning in work, but Nathan was not being his usual friendly self as well. He wasn’t being off-putting either, though. He was just…there.
A ploy so he could ignore me easier. Well, at least that was what I thought.
I’d been back a few days when Jack Holloway called me into his office. Upon entering, I found it vacant, so I waited for his return. I perused his bookshelves, admiring the collection, when my eyes landed on a photo frame.
I picked it up off the shelf and stared at the photo it held. It was Jack. His arm was around a woman in her twenties. She was tall with blonde hair past her shoulders and blue eyes. Plain, but beautiful all at the same time.
“My daughter,” Jack spoke from next to me. I hadn’t even heard him enter the room, let alone walk up to me.
“She’s beautiful,” I replied.
“Yes, she was,” he said, taking the frame from me. A look of longing and sadness filled his eyes, and I felt guilty for bringing her up. “Grace…passed away a few years ago.”
I felt awful that I’d forgotten. “I’m sorry.”
He gave me a small smile. “Thank you.”
He returned the frame back to its rightful place. “Delilah, please sit.” He directed me to take a seat in one of the leather chairs in front of his large mahogany desk. “I called you in because I’m concerned. I don’t mean to pry, but something or someone put you into a catatonic state last week. Since then, your attitude has soured.”
“I’m sorry, sir, I don’t mean to be disruptive.”
“That isn’t why I called you in here. I’m worried about you. While your work has remained in its stellar state, I worry about your health—mental and physical. I’d like to suggest, and I only mean this as a suggestion, that you see a therapist. I know of a great one—”
“I already have a therapist,” I said, interrupting him. “I just haven’t been to see him in a while.”
“Might I suggest giving him a call? You’ve been with me for five years, and I’ve never seen you like this.” He looked at me like he actually cared, and then he said words that made my chest clench. “You know you’re safe here. Protected. I care about all of my employees, and I make sure they’re comfortable at work.”
There was something about the way he’d said I was safe. It made me wonder just how much Jack Holloway knew of the truth.
“Please know I’m here for you if you need anything, Delilah.”
The week had been difficult.
Get up, go to work, maybe eat lunch, go home, crawl into bed, rinse and repeat.
I never ate dinner anymore, so it didn’t surprise me that after a week, my clothes were starting to fit a little loosely. Not falling off me, but it was easier to button my tailored suits than it had been.
I didn’t care. I stopped caring. Caring took too much effort, and caring for someone took everything.
Andrew, Caroline, and Ian had begun referring to Nathan as “the asshat.” They didn’t talk about him much, which was okay because I didn’t want to talk about him, or talk at all.
So I stopped.
No more talking.
No more smiling, no more caring, no more mask.
No more Lila.
I was existing, not living.
I didn’t put on an act anymore. It took too much effort. Perhaps this was the real me, exposed for all to see.
On Thursday afternoon, we were so behind with work that later in the afternoon, I realized I hadn’t eaten anything that day. I found myself making stupid mistakes and knew I needed to take a break, but at the same time, there were only two hours left until I headed out.
Jack had dictated I wasn’t to stay past six for the next week, or he would escort me out personally. Any attempts to tell him I was fine fell on deaf ears. He was the boss, after all.
Nathan hadn’t spoken to me since I had returned, but today he felt the need to address that I existed.
Nathan broke the silence when I was midway through the Hansen file. “Delilah, go eat something.” In my peripheral, I could see that he was still staring at his screen.
“No,” I responded, my eyes still fixated on my monitor, my fingers typing away on the Hansen file.
“Go,” he commanded.
“I’m not hungry.” Didn’t he realize he couldn’t tell me what to do anymore? He lost that right.
He slammed his hands down on his desk, startling me. My head snapped up, and I watched him walk out the door at a brisk pace. He returned a moment later and threw something hard onto my desk.
“Eat it.”
“No.”
“Eat the fucking granola bar before I shove it down your throat.”
I picked it up and threw it against the wall. It hit with a crack, and then fell to the floor.
“Oh, I’ve heard that threat before,” I spat at him.
His eyes grew wide as he stared down at me. His disinterested act slipped and I could see, just for a split second, the pain beneath.
I had to admit, it hurt to see that tortured look in his eyes, because if he felt like that, I couldn’t help but wonder why he had separated us. All it brought was a tight stab in my chest and hope.
I had to squash the hope. Nothing good came of it.
Hope wasn’t allowed in my bleak world, along with asshats and their granola bars. They took too much energy.
My first session back with Dr. Morgenson was uneventful. It had been so long since I’d last seen him that it was almost like we were starting from scratch. He already knew about my past, so there was no need to delve into those sordid details.
The present, however… Well, that was a brand new beast.
He made me talk about Nathan.
I didn’t want to talk about Nathan, but Dr. Morgenson wasn’t letting the subject drop entirely. He was a tricky one.
“So, tell me about the last few months,” he said, his gaze expectant.
I went into the story of Nathan coming to work at Holloway and Holloway. There were a few choked sobs that tried to escape at the mere mention of his name. I didn’t want to talk about it—I wasn’t ready—so I turned myself off before I broke down again and slipped a neutral expression back on. Dr. Morgenson knew it as well because he cleared his throat, uncrossed his legs, and leaned forward, staring me straight in the eyes.
I sat, unfeeling, uncaring, pretending not to give a shit about my life as he probed into my emotional state.
“Go on…” he encouraged.
“And then I slipped. I became comfortable in what I knew was a volatile relationship.” What else was there to say?
“I want to help you get better, Lila. I need you to know and accept that there are people who care about you. People you can trust,” Dr. Morgenson stressed.
I knew that was the case. I knew I could trust him, but what was the point?
The session ended and I left. The first of many I would attend over what felt like a millennia.
A crappy morning to add to my crappy week awaited me when I awoke. It was raining.
Couldn’t I catch a break? Wasn’t my life miserable enough from the beginning? Why, then, did he have to come into my life and make me believe there was something worth living for, only to take it all away?
Nothing. I was nothing. Just as they’d always said I was. I would never amount to anything. Yup, there I was, a shell of a fucking human being because I fell in love.
Love stinks. Worse than asshats…
The windshield wipers moved back and forth at a furious pace as I waited in the left-hand turning lane for an opening. The light was still green, stale red for the cross street.
Green means go, but it appeared not everyone knew that red meant stop.
I heard the squealing of the tires against the wet pavement. In my periphery a work van flew over the white line before the crunching of metal filled my ears.
That was when it all disappeared. The pain…the dull ache in my heart, and Nathan, too.
All I knew was black and stillness…
Until I heard the sirens. Breathless voices and clamoring hands touched me.
It was later when a voice broke out above all other sounds, screaming, “Oh, God. Lila! Love, no! No! Get your fucking hands off me. That’s my girlfriend! Lila!” That was when I knew I was probably about to die.
Only angels sounded like that—only my Nathan…
DISSOLUTION
by
K.I. Lynn
DISSOLUTION
My chest clenched, and I rubbed the spot with firm pressure. A familiar pain was flooding in, and once again it was all my fault.
The doors to the elevator closed in front of me, the number twelve disappearing before my eyes, leaving me to stare at my own lifeless reflection. The weight of my decision hovered above me, poised for the right moment to crash down.
I saw her long before I ever met her; Lila, my cohort in crime at work and at home. Across a sea of asphalt and cars, was where I caught my first glimpse of the woman who would do the impossible and awaken a long dead part of me.
She was unassuming, skittish even, captivating me with the way she walked. There was nothing particularly special about it; maybe it was just the way the light reflected in her natural blonde hair. Whatever it was, my eyes were glued to her. She became more intriguing when her demeanor changed, as two men approached; her body rigid, pace slowed, and eyes down. It was subtle, not many would notice, but I did.
The caged beast inside me also noticed and pulled at his chains, growling. He didn’t like that they made her feel that way. I was about to go to her, launch myself at her, the beast wanting the strange siren, when a hand clamped down on my shoulder and pulled me back to reality.
I shouldn’t have taken the job when Jack offered it to me. In fact, the only reason I did was to have something to keep me busy, keep my mind off everything. To keep the days passing as I waited to die.
Every day was the same; a spiral down to hell. I knew my family was waiting for the call that I’d offed myself. I’d been tempted, hundreds of times, but I never went through with it.
I wished I had. Better to destroy myself, and not take her with me.
The throbbing behind my ribs was damn near crippling and made my legs shaky, as I tried to brace myself in the elevator while it moved. No one would ever find out the level of asshole I’d achieved.
I’d done it. Done what I thought I couldn’t.
I left her…the one good thing I had in my purgatory.
So, why did it hurt so bad that my eyes stung? I could barely breathe or think. Shouldn’t I have been proud I finally found the inner strength to do what was best for her?
I blinked and swallowed, but the lump of shame in my throat wouldn’t budge.
It was a necessary separation. I couldn’t keep hurting her, and that night I physically hurt her.
She deserved more, so much more than me; an angry, depressed, broken man. I couldn’t give her what she needed—love. So, I did what I had asked her to do.
I left.
Once more my eyes stung like a son of a bitch, but there was no room for tears. I didn’t deserve them.
Visions of her collapsed and passed out after I lost control and took her, assaulted me. It’d been too much, too rough. I begged her to leave, told her I couldn’t control it. Not today.
Today was the day it all resurfaced. The pain, the agony…my wife.
The life, the love, and the family that was taken from me.
The last time I saw her surfaced. Her eyes open; staring, blank, void, empty…dead.
The medically induced coma they placed me in kept me from even saying goodbye. I was unable to attend her funeral.
The elevator signaled that I reached my floor, and I was left with heavy steps as I walked out and down the hall. I entered my condo after having deposited Lila back into hers, leaving her.
I shut the door behind me, leaning on it as it clicked closed. All of my belongings I’d retrieved from her place dropped to the ground, landing on the tile floor below.
My hands moved to my hair, tugging and pulling on it as the air around me became suffocating. I felt something digging into my palm and released my grip to find out what it was.
I opened my hand and in it rested a jagged piece of metal.
Her key…the key to my place. I took it from her key ring and returned the one she’d given me.
The weight was becoming too much, almost crippling. The animal inside me was stirring, the part of me that wanted her more than I wanted to admit.
Gone. She was gone. I left.
Mine! The beast howled. She. Is. Mine!
“No. She deserves to be happy and loved. I can’t give her that.”
I leaned my forehead on the door, pounding my fist on it—hoping the door would give way and I’d have an excuse to run back to her. Any excuse to end the agony in which I was beginning to drown.
“Stay here! You have to.”
Arguing with myself probably couldn’t be seen as sane, but my head and heart were warring. My feelings for her had become so strong.
Mine! He roared.
“Lila…”
Mine!
“Oh, God, what have I done?” I doubled over, the crushing weight of my actions coming down on me. “I need you. I need you so much.”
Get. Her. Back!
“I can’t. No. I won’t…I won’t hold her down, hold her back. Someone will worship the ground she walks on, love her.”
We can do that. No one will ever understand her like we do.
“Someone will try. Someone will want and love her.”
Someone like Andrew?
My voice broke down to a whisper. “Yes, someone like Andrew.”
No! Mine. Not Andrew’s. Mine. I need her!
A crunching sound that had become all too familiar in recent months filled my ears. I looked down to find my hand embedded in the drywall.
My knuckles began to sting as I stared at my arm still lodged in the new hole. I pulled my hand out and surveyed the damage. I spun around, looking at all of the holes that the entry walls contained. All were created because of her. Because I wanted her and tried to deny it. Because I wouldn’t face the truth about what was going on between us. Because I was angry at her for making me feel for her.
That was the moment I came crumbling apart at the seams.
I grabbed at the edge of the drywall and pulled, tearing a chunk from the wall.
It wasn’t enough. In a frantic pace I began pulling, large pieces coming off in my hands. The dust filled the air, clouding it, just like my mind and my heart. I needed the reminder of her gone.
I’d gotten one section down before it let loose; the pain, the loss, the anger. Nothing was safe from my path of destruction.
I pulled half a sheet down in one tug, tossed it to the side and manically finished the demolition of the remaining, offending plasterboard.
Every tug, every pull, I tried to push her memory away. The feel of her skin, her body beneath mine, her smile, her laughter, her mind, her taste, her need.
She needed me. I knew that. I needed her; something I was just beginning to understand.
I left. Separating us.
I screamed out, cursing myself, my life, and cursing her, though innocent, for entering my solitary existence and turning my purgatory upside down.
My hands snapped the wallboard off the nails that were holding it onto their wooden supports. In my fury I tore, pulled, and yanked the walls down until there was nothing left.
No holes. No walls. No reminder.
Nothing.
I stood, breathing hard, in the middle of the entryway. Sweat poured down my face, plaster dust clung to my wet skin and clothing. The air was thick with a white haze, the drywall bits covered the floor, beaten.
And still I could feel her presence.
I fell to my knees, the dust floating back into the air.
My arms itched from the powder coating my skin and I coughed, gagging on the chalky substance hovering in the air. Didn’t matter. I deserved to suffer.
My body began shaking as I sat there in defeat. In the future I would mourn two losses of my love on that date: my wife and my Lila.
I wouldn’t let what happened to her happen to Lila. I couldn’t. Lila would live. Lila would meet someone worthy and start a family. Lila would be happy.
