Toxic (The Therapist #4): An Alpha Male, Relationship Coach, Erotic Romance

by Ws Greer

  “Umm, well, I want to talk about us,” I begin. “Trent, I think we both know we’ve been struggling. There have been far too many arguments lately, and it seems like everything I do pisses you off. You ruined my phone, Trent. That hurt, and I feel like things between us have changed. I miss you being the funny, adorable guy I used to know. I miss us. Can’t we get back to how we were?”

  Trent exhales.

  “Yeah, I guess we’ve been a little weird lately,” he agrees, flashing a flicker of a smile. “And I’m sorry about your phone. I let my anger get the best of me, and I shouldn’t have done that. I mean, you did push me to it.”

  “I pushed you to it?”

  “Yeah, by changing your passwords, Kim, remember? You shouldn’t have done that.”

  “Trent, changing my passwords does not give you the right to destroy my property like that. That was way over the line. Do you not see it that way?”

  “No, I do. I agree with you, but you need to agree with me that you pushed me to it. If you hadn’t changed your passwords, I wouldn’t have gotten upset and crossed the line. So, depending on how you look at it, it’s sort of your fault.”

  Wow.

  “Trent, see, this is what I’m talking about,” I say, my words fighting their way through a clenched jaw. “We seem to have some differences on very important issues, and I think we need to figure out how to work them out. In my opinion, there's no excuse for doing what you did. That phone was mine, and you have no right to destroy it. I would never do that to your property.”

  “First of all, I wouldn’t do what you did—”

  “You wouldn’t give me your passwords at all—”

  “Don’t cut me off, Kim. Second of all, you and I are married, which means your property is also my property, and I can do what I want with my property.”

  I freeze as another piece of my world crumbles and falls apart around me. I squint my eyes as tears begin to sting and I realize Trent isn't who I thought he was, and Dr. Colson was right. Looking at Trent now feels like I’m staring at a stranger, and my heart starts to quicken its pace due to the fear of sitting next to a man I don't know.

  “Who are you?” I mumble, but Trent hears me.

  “What?”

  “I don't even know who you are anymore,” I say, correcting myself. “I feel like I’m meeting you for the first time, and I don't like the person I’m meeting.”

  “Wow. Thanks, Kim. Maybe I don't like you so much either. Have you ever thought about that?”

  “You see? This is what I’m talking about. I don't want to keep fighting with you all the fucking time, Trent, and I think that if we don't get help, we might not make it.”

  “Oh my god, you're so dramatic. We’ll be fine. We don't need any help.”

  “No, Trent, we won't be fine. Not without help.”

  “What are you talking about? Is that what this is about? You want me to go back to that uppity therapist? Dr. Fucking-Know-It-All? I don't think so.”

  “Why won't you go back with me?” I ask, frowning and throwing my hands up in disgust.

  “Because that guy is no good, Kim. He’s an arrogant prick who thinks he's good-looking. He’s too busy focusing on his clothes to help anybody. I’m surprised that guy has any patients at all. He’s terrible.”

  “No, he's not,” I rebut.

  “Excuse me? Why are you defending him?” Trent shoots back, his face shifting to one of true concern.

  “Because he doesn't deserve your ridicule. The man is great at his job.”

  “Well, you sure do think awfully high of him, don't you? How the hell would you know how good he is?”

  “Because, Trent,” I blurt out as my frustration reaches its peak, and I no longer have any hope of pulling myself away from the ledge. “I've been going to see him without you, and he's been helping me. A lot.”

  In a flash, the room freezes over. Neither of us move. Neither of us breathe. Trent stares at me with wide eyes, and I feel like the air has been instantly sucked out of the room. From the look in his eyes right now I know what I didn't want to admit before. The Trent I knew is gone. He actually never existed. This is the real Trent Redden, and he scares the shit out of me.

  What have I done?

  Chapter 33

  ~ KIMBERLY ~

  “What the fuck did you just say?”

  My eyes bulge as I see the anger simmering in Trent’s face. It’s like lava boiling just beneath the surface of his skin. His cheeks turn red and his eyes look like they're becoming more and more bloodshot by the second. I don't even know how to respond, so I just stare back at him with a blank look on my face, which just makes him snap.

  “Hey!” he barks, and it hits me like a jump scare in a movie. I jolt so hard I think my heart will stop. “Are you fucking kidding me? You've been going to see that therapist? Without me?”

  I let out my held breath. It comes out loud and shaky, but it steadies me enough to answer.

  “I've gone a couple of times, yes,” I admit before swallowing hard. I don't like this feeling of fear that has wrapped itself around me, but I don't want to give in to the thoughts in my head that Trent is an abusive husband. Everything Dr. Colson has said has been right, but every cell in my body hopes all of Trent’s anger and outbursts haven't been leading up to something more sinister—something more violent. I refuse to believe it.

  Trent glares at me for a moment, and each passing second feels like he’s simply allowing himself to grow angrier—building up his rage one moment at a time to make the ultimate atomic bomb. I look at his face at this moment, and I barely recognize him. The Trent I remember was softer. He was kinder and smiled more. This Trent is like an episode of Black Mirror. He’s an alternate, dark, opposite version of the Trent I fell in love with, and for the life of me I can't remember the moment he snuck into the house and forced the old Trent out. How can a stranger sneak into your house without you noticing? The thought of it scares me even more.

  I watch Trent with wide eyes as he stands up and puts his hands on his hips. With slow, methodical steps, he begins pacing around the room, his eyes never focusing on anything. I hear him breathing. He sounds like someone who just fell asleep and is inching their way towards REM. All of it has me on the edge of my seat, but I didn't come in to let my fear takeover. I came in here to tell Trent I love him, and that I want us to work through this rough patch in our lives. This moment was supposed to help us heal, and I will work to make sure it does. So, I swallow hard again, push the anxiety back, and speak to my husband.

  “Trent,” I whisper, before clearing my throat and speaking louder. “Trent, let’s just talk about—”

  Like a bolt of lighting crashing through the house, Trent reaches up and slams his hands down on top of the entertainment center with a vicious bang. He does it once, twice, and then a third time, before swinging his leg back and kicking the TV. The screen flashes a rainbow of colors before flashing white, and then going completely dark as it crunches between the wood entertainment center and Trent’s foot.

  “You fucking cunt!” he yells, and I literally scream from the shear rage and volume of his outburst. He turns to me with pure hatred in his face. “You think I don't know what's going on? You think I can't see it, Kimberly? I fucking see you!”

  “See what? I don't know what you're talking about,” I reply, and I wish it sounded tougher, but it’s weak and timid.

  “You think I don't know you're fucking that therapist? You disgusting pig. I can't believe you would do this to me? I can't believe you're fucking him. Him! Oh my god.” Trent covers his face with his hands and falls to his knees, where he leans forward and begins to cry.

  I can't believe what I’m seeing. Is this real life? Trent is literally bawling like a baby into his palms over something that didn't happen. That’s how much he has convinced himself that I would cheat on him. With no evidence whatsoever, he has driven himself mad over a fantasy. Yet, this is the man who doesn't want to go to therapy. I’m stunned.


  “Oh my god, Trent, I’m not sleeping with Dr. Colson,” I say as I get up from my seat and go to comfort him. I place my hand on his back and feel him shaking as he sobs. “Trent please don't do this. I haven't cheated on—”

  “I'm going to kill him,” he says. It comes out muffled as he speaks into his hands, but I hear it loud and clear. He said what he said.

  “Trent, that’s not funny. You shouldn't say shit like that.”

  “I'm not trying to be fucking funny,” he growls. Trent finally uncovers his face and stands up, putting his hands back on his hips. “He’s dead, and it’s your fault. Yeah, I’m going to fucking kill that uppity sonofabitch. Fucking arrogant, educated, cock sucker. He’s dead.”

  “Oh my god. What the hell is the matter with you? You can't say things like that, especially when your accusation is completely false. I haven't been fucking the therapist, Trent. I’m just trying to figure all of this shit out between us, and I need help. You're making it so hard on me. I feel like I don't even know you anymore, and it breaks my heart. Where is all of this anger coming from?”

  “You, you stupid bitch,” he fires back, before slamming his hand down on top of the entertainment center again. “All you do is disobey me.”

  “Disobey?”

  “Yeah, that’s fucking right, disobey! You never listen to me, because all you want to do is walk around flashing your tits at everybody, acting like a disgusting slut instead of a doting wife. You embarrass me every time we go out and I see guys staring at your rack. You don't do anything to cover yourself up because you enjoy it. You enjoy their attention, and you enjoy pissing me off. Well, that’s it, Kim. I’ve had enough of you going out of your way to piss me off. I’ve had it up to fucking here, and I’m not going to take it anymore. You think you can go see that therapist against my wishes, suck his half-breed cock, and come back to me like nothing ever happened? I don't think so. I don't fucking think so.”

  “You're an unforgivable asshole,” I spit back, and it's the first time I've meant it one hundred percent. This is it. The line has been completely crossed. If Trent loved me, he would never say the things he has said to me. His insults are insidious, and they hurt as much as any blow. I’m done being disrespected. I’m fucking done with Trent.

  I turn to walk away, but before I can take two steps, Trent’s fingers grip my wrist. There's nothing soft or loving about his tight grip on me, and I instinctively try to snatch my hand away.

  “Get the fuck off of me, Trent,” I yell, but he tightens his grasp and I feel a burning pain around my wrist. “Ow, that fucking hurts!”

  “Where do you think you're going?” he yells in my face, ignoring the fact I just told him he's hurting me. “You're not going anywhere, Kim. Go sit down!”

  “No! Let go of my wrist right now! We’re fucking over, Trent. I’m done with this bullshit.”

  Trent’s eyes bulge, and he lets go of my wrist only long enough to reach up and grab a fistful of my hair. I let out a terrified shriek, but Trent yanks my head back, bending my neck into an awkward position.

  “You are not leaving me!” he screams, his face only an inch away from mine.

  He keeps his grip on my hair, and a million thoughts flash across my mind. I never would've thought I'd end up in a situation like this. I believed that when I married Trent I was making the right decision, even if we hadn't known each other very long. I thought we were in love. It was hot and sexy. It was full of lust and young romance, and I believed in it. I never knew that we didn't have a foundation for us to build upon. I didn't know you can't build a long term relationship off of sex alone, and I didn't realize how important it is to truly know someone before you marry them. I just didn't know.

  Here I am now with my hair wrapped around my husband’s fist. My neck is craned to the side and I’m filled with fear and dread. This is a fight or flight situation, but fleeing isn't really an option for me right now. Regardless of the choices, I have to get out of this situation before it turns into something far too many women have had to endure in their lives when dealing with men like Trent. I have to react before it’s too late. I can't take flight, so I must fight and let this motherfucker know he will never be allowed to put his hands on me ever again. If he beats me to death here tonight, it won’t be because I laid down and let him do it. He’s going to have to win a fucking brawl if he plans to abuse me.

  Without another moment of hesitation, I bend my leg and slam my knee into Trent’s nuts. I feel a horrible crunch as Trent releases a high-pitched yelp. He instantly lets go of my hair and bends over, covering his crotch with both hands. His face is completely exposed, and I take this opportunity to ball my fist, reach back, and punch my soon-to-be-ex husband in the face. His nose explodes under my fist and blood shoots in all directions as he falls onto his back. With one hand covering his balls and the other over his gushing nose, Trent lays on the floor in the fetal position, whimpering.

  He can't look at me. He can't say anything. He’s too hurt. He's too weak. I realize now, as I look down on him, that this is Trent in his truest form—a soft, whimpering little boy, who acts out when he doesn't get his way because he's really just a pitiful, insecure baby on the inside. He's not a man. He's a boy who grew older but never grew up.

  For reasons I can't explain, tears sting my eyes as I run into the bedroom and start stuffing clothes into a gym bag. It’s all so surreal, but I don't have time to dwell on it here. I’m sure it'll be the only thing I can think about once I’m safely in a hotel. For now, I simply fill my bag with as many clothes and necessities as I can fit into it and surge toward the door.

  When I get back into the living room, Trent is still in a ball on the floor. He’s still covering his nose and balls with his hands, but he’s able to look up at me as I stand over him.

  “Kim … please,” he says, but I cut him off.

  “No. We’re done,” I say as I clutch my bag and turn on my heel, my eyes focusing only on the door. Before I walk out into the night, I look over my shoulder to give him my final words. “It’s over, Trent. I want a divorce.”

  Chapter 34

  ~ KIMBERLY ~

  My life changed overnight. I don't know how it happened, and if you told me I’d be absolutely certain about divorcing Trent at any point before a few days ago, I would've cussed you out. I never saw this coming, and there really wasn't anything I could've done to prepare for it. Nonetheless, I’m here, sitting inside of Dairy Queen with a long red spoon in my mouth, waiting for Trent to arrive so we can discuss our future. I had to tell my husband to meet me in a public place because I don't know what he might try to do if we were alone. How far we've fallen.

  Mentally, however, I’m not as low as I was the day I walked out of the house, leaving Trent lying on the floor clutching his balls and bleeding nose. That night, I cried like a baby once I was safe and sound behind the door of my room in the Marriott hotel. I cried until I fell asleep, and I woke up the next morning just to cry some more. I had to call in sick once again just so I could avoid seeing Trent, but also so I could cry in peace. It was horrible having to accept that I'd made a mistake in choosing Trent to be my husband, and that the man I loved decided he didn't love me enough to respect me. It’s terrifying to know Trent obviously had plans to physically harm me that night, and all of these thoughts came together like clouds gathering before a storm, until they finally reached their maximum capacity and I cried enough to flood the hotel room.

  After a couple of days of weeping, however, I woke up feeling different this morning. The sun shined into my room and caressed my face like the most gentle, warm hand on my skin. I opened my eyes and found that I didn't feel sad anymore. I felt angry. I was angry about everything Trent had said and done, because the level of disrespect he showcased was outrageous. How dare he call me out of my name like that. How dare he put his hands on me, pulling my wrist before tugging my hair. How dare he claim to love me, and proceed to put me down as if we shared no love whatsoever. How f
ucking dare he.

  I let my anger guide me as I climbed out of bed to get dressed. My anger led the way when I decided to call him back, after ignoring countless calls from him over the past two days. I let my anger takeover, even when I told him to meet me at Dairy Queen so we could talk, and my anger was still there as the hope and sadness in his voice reached out to me through the phone and I curved that shit like a boxer ducking an oncoming punch. Trent and his weepy little voice can go to hell. I will never allow myself to be manipulated by that asshole ever again, and as I sit here now, I feel more confident in that than ever. There is no going back. Trent crossed the line, and he will never be allowed on my side of it ever again.

  When he walks in, I feel hot needles all over my body. He's wearing a T-shirt and jeans that are both dirty from work today, as the crew was preparing for an upcoming concrete pour and digging and placing metal forms. He looks exhausted with disheveled hair and stubble on his face, which is out of character for him, and the bruising around his eyes and nose is prominent. He's a mess, and I honestly couldn't be happier to see him looking so beat down. Imagine what I would've looked like if I didn't defend myself that night.

  Trent scans the dining area before spotting me and walking over. When he sits down, he lets out a sad little sigh that irks my nerves instantly.

  “Hi, Kim,” he says, and I can see he's already pleading with his eyes.

  “Trent,” I answer. I pull my long spoon out of my ice cream and place it on the table next to my cup. Once it’s settled, Trent reaches out and tries to grab my hand. I assume it’s to hold it, but I jump back. “Don't.”

  He looks shocked by the demand. “Oh. Okay. Yeah, I'm sorry. You're right.” He pulls his hands back and places them in his lap underneath the table. “So … I’m so happy you called, Kim. I've missed you so much these past two days. Have you missed me?”