Overdose: A British Bad Boy Romance

by Raven St. Pierre

  “Do you have any loving memories of her?” she asked next. “Any instances where you remember her doing something that showed her love for you even if she didn’t verbalize it?”

  Zander shook his head, dazed as he stared out the window at white flakes drifting down from an infinitely dark sky.

  “Not a single one,” he muttered, answering Vanessa’s question.

  He found himself hoping she didn’t think this was all some elaborate lie. Some exaggeration he cooked up to excuse the things he’d done and said. Because this was the truth.

  His truth.

  There were no fond memories of Christmases or birthdays where he’d been able to actually be a child. His mother’s world revolved around herself.

  Period.

  Forcing the thoughts from his head, Zander let his eyes settle on Vanessa again as she asked something else.

  “And what about your brother? Do you believe your mom had similar feelings toward him? Or… rather a lack of feelings toward him?” she corrected.

  “Without question,” he answered quickly. “Liam was less of a nuisance to her than I was, because he was simply more agreeable than I knew to be. I, even as a child, maybe pushed a little too hard—asking questions when I should’ve been silent, saying things I maybe shouldn’t have said,” he added, “but, quite honestly, I don’t think the woman ever loved anyone. Herself included.”

  Vanessa found Zander’s analysis intriguing. When she didn’t have another question right away, he went on, zoning out a bit while he did.

  “She’s… a leech,” he concluded. “She takes what she needs from whoever’s in her life at the time—be it money, sex, love, affection, companionship, you name it—but she’s never got anything to offer in return. Or, if she does, she simply chooses not to.”

  Zander’s head lowered when a thought occurred to him; he wasn’t much different than the person he just described.

  In many ways.

  In his lifetime, he’d left quite the gruesome trail in his wake—a bloody road littered with the torn hearts of women he cared nothing for, women he used for one thing and one thing only. From them, he’d stolen so much, ruined so many. Now, with his head so frustratingly clear, he couldn’t help but to think of the mess he’d left behind for the next man in their lives to clean up.

  At the thought, his eyes rose to Vanessa again.

  Did she think he was no different than Simon? No better than the man who’d broken her heart in ways Zander himself had done to countless others before?

  Maybe… he wasn’t any better. The idea was so perfectly sobering he had to look away again.

  “And what about your father?” Vanessa asked, cutting into his thoughts. “Was he in your life at all? You never mention him.”

  A heavy breath came before words. “He was nothing more than one of my mother’s many gentleman callers. In short, if he’d had his wits about him and remembered to pull out, you’d be short one cynical, and might I add devilishly handsome, patient,” he joked. However, Vanessa didn’t laugh with him. She didn’t even crack a smile.

  She saw through Zander and knew he didn’t find anything funny either. She wanted him to stop doing that, wanted him to stop pretending like this wasn’t as hard for him as she knew it had to be.

  “What do you know about him?” was her next question.

  Zander thought, gathering bits and pieces of what he figured out over the years so he could answer. “He’s a politician. Well-known. Needless to say, he wasn’t exactly looking to welcome his illegitimate son into his neat and tidy world with open arms.”

  Vanessa’s brow quirked. “Does that mean you reached out to him?”

  He hadn’t meant to give so much away. Granted, he’d given her carte blanche, permission to ask whatever questions she wanted, but he didn’t intend to make this easy.

  “Eventually,” Zander answered.

  “And how’d that go?”

  He met her gaze and replied. “Not great, but I was rather used to disappointment by that point in my life.”

  The hard expression Vanessa held thus far was beginning to fade and Zander realized he almost preferred her coldness versus the expression she wore now—pity.

  “What made you try to contact him?” she asked next. And that’s when she saw Zander’s eyes glaze over. He wasn’t looking at her. Actually, he wasn’t looking at anything. He’d drifted so deep into the past, she had to call his name. When he came to, she couldn’t help but to be curious as to where he’d gone.

  “What made you contact him?” she repeated.

  A breath puffed from his lips when he leaned into the cushion deeper. His hand settled at the back of his head. “I um… well… desperation, I suppose,” he finally replied.

  His answer only raised more questions as opposed to answering the one already stated.

  “Desperation?” Vanessa inquired.

  He wouldn’t look at her. “Sometimes, when things get bad enough, you surprise yourself with what you’re willing to do to get out of it. Fear of my father’s rejection was the least of my worries at the time.”

  She could feel the conversation deepening, could feel Zander slowly widening the door to let her in, but it was still dark inside. She knew so many answers lay ahead, but still couldn’t make them out just yet.

  “How old were you when you tried?”

  Zander didn’t even have to think hard to recall the details. “Thirteen.”

  The intermittent burst of embers in the fireplace and the gentle tapping of ice crystals hitting the window were the only sounds in the room. Otherwise, you could’ve heard a pin drop.

  “You said you were desperate,” she reiterated. “That was what made you reach out to your father, but was there a particular event that drove you to take such a drastic step? Or were you simply fed up with your mother?”

  Zander shook his head. “No. She’d long since gotten rid of me by that age, shipped me off to live with my grandfather. Her father. He owned a small house and farm in the English countryside.”

  That wasn’t at all the response Vanessa expected.

  “She married George when I was eight—Liam’s father, actually. Within months of finding out she was pregnant with him.” He paused, nodding aimlessly as he thought back. “I lasted there a year with the man. The second Liam came into the picture… I couldn’t seem to do anything right in George’s eyes. Mother’s either. Seemed I was always in the way, always too loud, always too… me,” he added with a distant smile that never touched his eyes. “Soon after that, I remember being sent out to play one afternoon. When I came back in an hour or so later, there were two suitcases on my bed. Packed, ready to go. Being a child, naïve and so on, I thought I’d missed mother mentioning we were going on holiday.” That vacant look returned. “I thought nothing of it.”

  “She sent you away? Just like that? No warning; no discussion; no explanation?” Vanessa asked, hearing the anger in her own voice. As a mother herself, she couldn’t imagine what must go through a woman’s head to cause her to behave this way. Several mental illnesses had honestly crossed her mind as she listened to Zander tonight, but she didn’t want to even go there.

  “Just like that,” Zander answered. “I was sitting in the middle of my bedroom floor drawing a picture when the horn blew outside. Liam’s father was the one who came in to grab the bags from my bed. Didn’t say a word to me, barely looked at me. Thinking back, getting rid of me was as easy for him as putting a troublesome pet out to pasture.”

  Vanessa’s heart squeezed inside her chest and, all of a sudden, she was the one who didn’t want to continue this talk. In her office, as his doctor, yes, she could have justified pressing Zander to share his story. But here? It felt wrong. Clearly, these memories were painful for him to relive, which is why she said what came out next.

  “We can stop here.”

  Those words made Zander’s gaze rise to meet hers. Confused, his brow creased. “But… I thought this was what you wanted. I tho
ught you wanted to know who I really am.”

  “No… I mean, yes. But… not like this. I don’t want you to share these things because you feel obligated.” She paused, but then said more. “I don’t want you to share these things with me just because I was going to leave.”

  Zander didn’t respond right away. He thought about that. Initially, yes, giving her permission to dig was because he wanted her to stay, but he also needed her to know he wasn’t broken on purpose. He needed her to know he didn’t like being this way. There was a closeness he felt with her, one he’d never felt with… well… anyone. No, visualizing these horrors from the past wasn’t pleasant, but he was willing to go there for her, willing to go there if it helped her understand him.

  Vanessa stared when Zander moved closer. He decided the distance between them was silly. Soon, she’d know him better than anyone else, so they may as well get past whatever quarrel they’d had a short time ago. She alone had taught him what intimacy felt like and sometimes, at times such as this when he felt open, vulnerable, he craved it, but only with her. He knew there was no one else he could call to quench it.

  Vanessa let him clasp her hand in his lap when his thigh settled against hers.

  “Let’s finish,” he said, assuring her with a dim smile.

  She was reluctant, but, because he seemed so sure, she kept going. “…Your stepfather took your bags down, and then what?”

  Zander closed his eyes and it was like he was right back there, standing outside the door of his family’s flat, smelling the smoke billowing from the end of his mother’s cigarette. She gave him a light hug—not like the kind you gave when you’d actually miss someone—and then spoke: “This is for the best,” Zander uttered, still resting with his eyes closed.

  Vanessa felt her fingers squeeze gently when Zander’s grip tightened a little. “What is?” she asked. “What’s for the best?”

  “Those were my mother’s parting words,” he clarified. “The last thing she said to me before sending me to her father was: ‘This is for the best’.”

  His story just kept taking one ugly turn after another and Vanessa truly did feel sick to her stomach. She’d heard several sad stories from patients, but that was work, business. This… with Zander? This was different. Her relationship with him had become personal, so separating her own emotions from what she imagined he was experiencing at the time was difficult.

  “After that, I was carted off to the countryside,” he went on. “I sat in the backseat of the taxi for several hours, hungry, because I’d only eaten breakfast and it was already well past three in the afternoon when I was picked up.”

  Zander lowered his head and Vanessa braced herself, not knowing what he’d say next.

  “Hours later, when I arrived at my grandfather’s,” he continued, “I uh… I’d been too scared to tell the driver I needed to stop and use the restroom, so… I wet myself just as we were pulling up to my grandfather’s farm.” He chuckled a bit at the confession, but there was still an air of embarrassment entangled in his words, although, it’d been decades since the incident.

  Vanessa listened, heard Zander use the long ride as an excuse, but she was pretty sure fear of what lie ahead had more to do with it. However, she didn’t interrupt to share her thoughts.

  “Long story short,” Zander added. “Grandfather wasn’t pleased with that, so our first time meeting was quite… eventful,” was the vague word he settled on.

  “Wait a second… you’d never met him before your mother sent you to live with him?” She couldn’t imagine a mother being so cruel, leaving her child with someone he’d never even seen a day in his life.

  “From what I gathered, they had a rather tumultuous relationship, so she didn’t keep in touch much as an adult. But I, literally, could have walked past the man on the street and wouldn’t have known him from the next guy,” Zander confirmed. “However, thanks to my little accident… he made sure I got to know exactly who he was day one.”

  Vanessa’s stare went blank. “He hit you?”

  That strange smile was back on Zander’s face—the one that was meant to hide so much, and yet hid so little.

  “We’ll just say I found out quickly where my mother’s heavy-handed discipline was learned.”

  Tears stung the corners of Vanessa’s eyes, but she was careful not to let them fall. She hurt for him—for the man sitting beside her today, for the scared little boy who had no one to truly love and care for him all those years ago.

  “Did he… physically harm you aside from that first day?” she asked, realizing immediately after how naïve that must’ve sounded. Even before Zander answered, she knew.

  “Often at first,” he replied, “but then I learned how to stay out of the old man’s way. When I wasn’t at school, and when I’d finished my daily chores, there was a place I found down at the foot of a hill just along the edge of the woods. Grandfather rarely ventured that far, so it was peaceful. There wasn’t another house around for miles,” he added. “I took up bird watching. Oh, and reading. It provided me with a means of escape,” he said with a dim smile, one Vanessa was no longer sure he aimed to hide behind. No, it was a testament of his bravery. To still be able to smile after all this…

  “It was at the foot of that hill that I met Bridgette.”

  The very second Vanessa assumed Zander spoke of a girl, he proved her wrong.

  “She was just a mangy mutt when I found her, but that dog was the only friend I had at the time,” he explained.

  ‘And she was also the only living thing that loved me,’ he added, but only in his thoughts.

  “I built her a small house on the edge of Grandfather’s property and, as much as I hated to, I kept her chained to a large tree near there until I got home so she wouldn’t get in his way.”

  Vanessa didn’t say a word, but imagined Zander had his reasons for taking the extra precaution.

  “Once I made it back home, I’d set her free and she’d run circles around me all the way down to our little, secret hideaway.” The corners of his mouth turned up as he thought of her.

  “Did you hear from your mother often?” Vanessa asked.

  Zander shook his head. “No. Aside from the conversations I overheard when my grandfather would call her to argue about how much it was costing him having an extra mouth to feed, I wouldn’t have even known she was alive, to be honest. No letters. No visits. Nothing. It was as if she wanted to forget I existed.”

  Right before Vanessa’s eyes, Zander’s life was taking shape. So much was beginning to fall into place, but now was not the time for her to share her thoughts. She wanted to allow him the opportunity to express himself freely. If this was truly his first time vocalizing these things, this moment could have been incredibly vital to the breakthrough he’d come to her in search of.

  Understanding the significance of this confession, she forced herself to approach the conversation from a professional standpoint. She knew what questions to ask to help Zander empty the overflowing compartments of his mind that weighed him down.

  “We ended up here because I asked what drove you to reach out to your father. Was there a particular event that made you call?” she asked next, being gentle.

  When Zander didn’t give an answer, her eyes went to him and she saw the pained look she was sure he meant to hide.

  “There was an event, but there was a buildup that made it more explosive. Several things that happened over the course of a few months,” he admitted. “Everything just sort of… snowballed.”

  In her mind, Vanessa imagined so many scenarios Zander could’ve been speaking of, all the abuse and mistreatment that could have grown and grown into one, unbearable crescendo. However, she dared not speculate. Poised and ready to listen, she silently urged Zander on.

  He released a deep breath, one Vanessa could tell only mildly relieved the tension.

  “It got to the point that staying out of the man’s way no longer meant I’d be spared his wrath. When I’d come
in, he’d be waiting,” he admitted. “It didn’t matter that I barely spoke a word to him, didn’t matter that I kept my room clean and had done all my chores. I believe I’d simply worn out my welcome.” A cynical laugh slipped out. “Not that I was all that welcome there in the first place, but there was definitely a change that came about and, for the life of me, I couldn’t figure out what I did that set him off.”

  ‘Nothing…’ That’s what Vanessa wanted to say. ‘Zander, you did nothing wrong. You were simply a child born into an unfortunate situation and none of this was your fault…’ but she refrained. Instead, she held his hand tighter—as if doing so now would somehow let the child he was in the past know he wasn’t alone.

  “He kept this… old leather strap hanging beside his bed on a nail. I think it was once part of a harness maybe,” Zander went on. “But whatever purpose it once served, grandfather said it was now the most important tool in the entire house—the tool he’d use to ‘break me of my stubbornness’ and my ‘high-minded attitude’,” he scoffed. “How he came to the conclusion that I, a child who’d grown up poor with a mother who cast him aside like yesterday’s rubbish, could ever be high-minded is beyond me, but those were his words.”

  A moment of silence passed between them and Vanessa could feel her chest moving up and down with each deep breath. She couldn’t relate to Zander’s experience, but she found herself feeling his pain all the same.

  With a distant stare set on his face, Zander went on. “It became somewhat of a daily ritual. After his ‘lessons’, I’d get a lecture about what an ungrateful little bastard I was, or how I had no idea how good I had it there. Apparently, my ‘strong will’ wasn’t breaking quickly enough for him, though.”

  Zander’s mind slipped back to those dark times. He endured things he never uttered to a soul. He refused to share his weakest and lowest moments with another. However, there had never been cause to do so before now.

  Before her.

  Vanessa held her breath when golden eyes shifted toward her. There, she found Zander’s emotions running high. No, there weren’t any tears, but she guessed that, had it not been for his pride, that would likely have been the case.