Rock Bottom (Buried Secrets #3.5)

by Silla Webb

  I crack my neck to the left and slowly turn toward the small doctor, my eyes drawing into small slits. “Demons, eh? You wanna talk about my fuckin’ demons?” She tilts her head to the side, looking up at me with those innocent, fearful eyes. “Doc, my demons lie dormant for a reason. I’m the monstrous man that I am because I have to protect the people that I love and speaking about my demons will only unleash the dark evil inside me, and I’d just rather let sleeping dogs lie,” I spit through gritted teeth.

  Dr. Hampton’s body trembles. She looks away from me, loudly inhaling a shaky breath. She’s a small woman, maybe five-feet-one and one hundred-twenty pounds. She has a heart shaped face, with soft round innocent eyes. Very attractive, but meek and mousy. I wonder what prompted a woman like her to want to work with deviants like myself. To put up with murderous psychopaths’ day in and day out. Maybe she needs her head checked?

  She straightens her posture, squaring her shoulders proudly. “Josh, I’m only going to ask you this once, next time I’ll step out and ask the CO to forcefully instruct you. SIT DOWN, please.” Her voice rises as she barks her command. She can’t be serious. She can’t fully expect me to listen to her demands.

  My shoulders bounce up and down, as a sardonic chuckle slips free. “And what if I feel no remorse?”

  She waves her hand at the chair I was sitting in, smiling she says, “Well, let’s talk about that, and we’ll go from there.”

  I glance up at the clock boringly and realize twenty-five to life is a long ass time, so I got it to kill. What more do I have to do than sit with Dr. Hampton and listen to her incessant rambling about whatever psychological bullshit she wants to spin my way. Reluctantly, I plant my ass down in the chair. I’ve never seen a psychologist. Hell, I have two emotions–pissed and fuckin’ pissed as hell. There’s no happiness, hearts or fuckin’ rainbows in my life. There have been happy moments, but I erased every thought of happiness when I let Drew figuratively shove his hand up my ass and play puppet master. So what Dr. Hampton hopes to gather from these sessions is beyond me. But I am rather intrigued.

  Staring blankly at Dr. Hampton my jaw tics waiting for her inquisition to begin, only she stares back silently. A war of impassive glares ensues, and my frustration grows. She taps her pen lazily against the folder in her lap, uncrossing her left leg from the right, only to cross the right over the left.

  “What the fuck? You told me to sit, I’m fuckin’ sittin’. What the hell is next? Are we just gonna sit here and have a fuckin’ starin’ contest, because if so I’d rather head back to my cell and count the fuckin’ ceiling stains or pound my fist against the wall to beat out some of this frustration you’ve caused me here,” I snap at her. I have very little patience.

  “WOW! Such anger. We’ll work on that as well. I was actually waiting for you to open up, Josh. But I should have expected you to be a man of few words, so I’ll start. You’re very prideful, genuinely overconfident. Explain your pride to me.”

  She’s read my file and she doesn’t understand why I’d be proud? What the fuck did she go to college for? “I’m very successful, of course I’m proud of the man I’ve become,” I huff at her ridiculous question.

  “Perhaps too proud?”

  “Is there such thing?” I scoff.

  “There is actually. Answer me this–Do you feel you are of the utmost of importance?”

  “Highly.” I smirk, proudly.

  “And you feel there are people who are beneath you?”

  “Dr. Hampton, there is a food chain of command in this world, and I just happen to be at the top.”

  “I see.” She nods, clicking the tip of her pen, scratching notes in her pad. Classic fuckin’ shrink. “So how does your importance affect your relationship with your family?”

  “I’m not sure I understand what you’re asking?”

  “Do you put yourself before your family, Josh? Do you spend holidays and birthdays with your children, or rather attend to business meetings or golf with friends?” Her eyebrows raise and she tilts her head to the side as she watches me intently, analyzing my breathing, my facial expressions, and the dilation of my pupils. She’s trying to gauge my trigger points, and if she hasn’t figured it out by now mentioning my family sets me off. But I refuse to allow her to label me with her fuckin’ head shrink bullshit, so I keep my tone even and steady.

  “Dr. Hampton, my business is essential to my family’s life style. Without my endless hours at the office and traveling for days on end, my wife wouldn’t have the opportunity to stay home to raise our children. My children wouldn’t attend the best private school in the state. They would have wants and quite possibly even needs that wouldn’t be met without my tireless efforts to provide for them. So yes, I sacrifice time with my family to enhance their lifestyle. Personally, I think it’s a rather selfless act, putting my family first,” I tsk.

  “But what about the abuse, Josh? How do you justify the abuse?” My jaw sets hard as I grind my teeth together. She ain’t very delicate in her attempts to get me to open up. She’s a heavy hitter, aimin’ right for my fuckin’ nut sack. Bitch.

  “What you see as abuse, I see as exercising my authority,” I reply truthfully.

  “Authority? You hold authority over your wife? Her sister? Or women in general?" She squares her shoulders as she speaks, silently relaying the message that in this room, she is the authority. My right brow quirks up at the confidence she exudes in that statement, but like I told her earlier, those pretty, little plaques on her wall don’t mean shit to me. “Your arrogance and hunger for authority and power coincide with your antisocial personality. Anti-socials aren’t just people who shy away from society, and I believe that is what you’re hearing when I use the term. Anti-socials actually are very depraved individuals, Josh, who are very lack in remorse, laws are nonexistent to them, and they seek pleasure in manipulation and pain.”

  I shrug my shoulders, completely uninterested in goin’ further into this psycho–babble bullshit with her.

  “However, one piece of the puzzle that makes absolutely no sense to me is how Drew Varney comes into play?” She opens the file and thumbs through notes scribbled across a few pages before her eyes scan back up to mine. “I see here that you and Drew have been friends for some time now. With friendship comes loyalty. The two of you are business partners, you’re his righthand man at American Heritage…how loyal is your friendship?”

  I draw in a slow, choppy breath because Drew fuckin’ Varney is yet another sore subject with me. “I know my place with Drew, especially now that he’s left me to rot in this shit hole.”

  “Do you care to elaborate, Josh?” She inches toward the edge of her seat, propping her elbow up on her knee and resting her face in her palm as she waits for me to give her the juicy scoop on our bro-mance break-up.

  I blow out a loud, frustrated huff of air. “Not much to tell, really. Bust my ass for the man doing unmentionable deeds, and he betrays me. End of story.” I ball my fist up angrily, digging my short nails into the palms of my cuffed hands. Damn, the anger is flowing now. She’s plucked that final nerve, and it’s taking everything in me to find restraint. “I’m done. Gotta get the fuck outta this room before I suffocate.” I don’t give her room for argument, and I’m sure the bulging vein over my brow gives her a clear indication not to push me any further.

  Her eyes grow wide and she sucks in a short breath saying, “I understand, Josh. I’ll call for a CO to return you to your cell.”

  This is why I’m so against therapy. I’m living in the fuckin’ seventh circle of hell right now, and although I’m consumed with darkness, I can manage my anger by keeping it all bottled up, then unleashing at the rare chance I get yard time. Talking about it will only cause my demons to rise, and it won’t take long for the darkness to take over. Then they’ll all be fucked.

  “Good afternoon, Josh.” Dr. Hampton smiles entering the small, stale office. She takes a seat in the chipped wooden chair positioned by the window be
fore pulling a legal pad into her lap. Fisting my cuffed hands together, I can feel my jaw tic with impatience. Today is my third session, and I’m not too confident in regards to the therapy plan Dr. Hampton has in mind.

  “Today I’d like to discuss your relationship with Savannah. Are you comfortable discussing that?”

  “Do I have a choice?” I deadpan, frustration already crawling along my skin. I’ve always been the strong, silent type, preferring to express myself with actions.

  “You always have a choice with what you divulge, Josh. But the more open you are with me the better I can help you. Shall we begin?” I nod and she clicks her pen open, ready to take notes on whatever statements I make.

  She begins with the basics. How long have Savannah and I been together, where did we meet, what characteristics Savannah had that drew me to her. She wasn’t too happy with where all this was going. Once she realized that I was a pawn in a scheme to embezzle the Simon Empire from Savannah’s family, Dr. Hampton grew very uncomfortable. She scooted closer to the edge of the chair, her eyes intently gazed on me as she listened to the vile details of our plot that fell apart at the seams as soon as I’d realized I’d fallen in love with my target.

  “I realize this is a sensitive subject for you Josh. I’d like for you to elaborate on the abusive nature of your relationship, please.”

  “Elaborate?” My brow quirks up, and I can feel the vein that runs along my temple throb with tension.

  “Yes, tell me what prompted you to abuse Savannah. If you loved her, what events took place to cause you to want to do her harm? It’s crucial that you make me understand your feelings toward the abuse.”

  “Love.”

  “Excuse me?” she asks, confusion teasing at her eyes.

  “You said if I loved her. Past tense. I still love Savannah very much so.”

  “I apologize, Josh. It wasn’t intended to upset you. Just a general way of speaking considering the nature of your relationship with Savannah.”

  “Because I hit her,” I state.

  “Well, yes.” She shrugs.

  I think about her question for several seconds before answering. The truth is, some days when I look back over the hell I put Savannah through, the only remorse I feel is for not making good on my promise of leaving her to rot in an abandoned mines. She should have been smart enough not to fall in love with me. Other days the remorse is real, and I feel hatred for myself for becoming the monster Drew shaped me to be. How the hell do I explain this to my psychologist? How the hell do I even put these fucked up emotions to words?

  “Josh, are you alright?” I look up to Dr. Hampton, reading the concerned look on her face.

  “I’m fine. Just lost in thought.”

  “Back to the abuse, Josh. Please, tell me your reasoning.”

  Blowing out a long, frustrated breath I open my mouth to spew verbal vomit. “This is all pretty fucked up, so try to follow closely.” Dr. Hampton nods her head, urging me to begin. “Drew’s plan was simple. Make her fall in love with me and marry her. I never intended to feel anything for her whatsoever. I fucked up. I was torn between loving her and repaying the debt I owed to my best friend. I’d known Drew much longer, and it only seemed like the right thing to stay loyal to him above all. With all the stress and tension swirlin’ the air with Drew, I let the situation get the best of me, and I took my aggressions out on Savannah. Some days, I’d stay out well past midnight only because I’d be so frustrated that I knew if I went home, I’d beat the hell outta her. Other days I just let the anger go, and I didn’t seem to care if she was hurt or worse.”

  “Josh, what do you mean the debt you owed to Drew?”

  My brows scrunch together as my eyes scowl over the small doctor. “Excuse me?”

  “You mentioned being in debt to Drew. Was this debt monetarily, repayment for his loyalty to you?”

  Fuck! Once the thoughts start to dance about in my head they release on their own volition as my mouth begins to move.

  “Doc, you wanted to know about Savannah. I ain’t in the fuckin’ mood to talk about either one of ‘em, so pick your battles with me. If we’re talkin’ Savannah since that’s the path you started down, fine. If you wanna discuss Drew, fuck off.”

  “Duly noted, Josh. However, you need to understand while we can agree not to discuss Drew at this time, you need to get comfortable with that topic because we will be discussing him in the future.” Her tone is demanding. “Now, please continue.”

  “That’s basically it. Tensions raised, our plan eventually crumbled, and before I’d realized it I nearly took her life. Now I’m here in this shit hole.”

  “The day of the accident, what event led you to attack her and Carly so violently?”

  “I had just made bail on the Malicious Criminal Intent charges. When I got home she and Carly were packing hers and the kids’ clothes. I lost it. I refuse to let her go. She’s mine. I promised her attempting to leave me wouldn’t be wise. She’s lucky I stopped when I did.”

  She glares at me curiously and the memory of crashin’ my lips against Savannah’s in a rush of fury filters to mind, and I smirk with complacency. I loved the taste of her fear. It always sent jolts of gratifying electricity through me, and before long I realized it wasn’t just a craving to taste her fear, but an addiction. Like crack to a junkie, hearing Savannah plead for mercy, the taste of her warm tears trailing down her soft jaw was the food source to my fury.

  Just as my cock begins to strain against the thin cotton pants, growing hard from the memory of evoking fear in my wife for kicks, Dr. Hampton speaks again interrupting my nearly wet dream. “If you were so intent on doing Savannah harm, what happened in that instance to pause your actions?”

  I scrub my hand roughly down the back of my neck trying to release the sudden tension in my tight muscles. Brailee and Braden are my only constants, the only reason seein’ the broad of daylight again matters. I miss my kids. Their laughs, smiles, and silly morning songs they would sing as they ate their cereal–I miss it all. It’s all a distant memory that I carry with me. I’m sure by now Savannah has filled their heads with lies about the monster their daddy has become, tryin’ her best to protect them from my evil. But she should know in the depths of her heart that I’d never cause any direct harm to my kids.

  “Josh, are you in there? Josh?” Dr. Hampton calls, and my eyes scan up from the floor meeting hers slowly on their ascent.

  I pinch the bridge of my nose while shaking my head to clear the cluster of memories that haunt me. “Yeah, I’m fine,” I mutter quietly Too much shit in the past that can’t be changed, but will haunt me forever.

  “Tell me about the memory that you were lost in, please.”

  “Brailee and Braden–my twins. They’re eight. When I was attacking Savannah, I saw their picture on the bookshelf and that was what stopped me in my assault. They’re innocent, just babies, and they need their momma to lead them through this ugly world. I knew I wouldn’t be there to raise them, it wouldn’t be fair to them to strip Savannah from their lives as well.”

  She nods, keeping her head cast down as she writes notes on the legal pad in her lap. “You love your children. That much I can see. But your love for Savannah concerns me. When you talk about Savannah it’s as if you are confused by your own thoughts and feelings. Almost as though you want one thing but you know it’s wrong, or you aren’t deserving enough of it. Does any of that make sense?”

  I nod boringly, growing frustrated by discussing this useless shit that will get me nowhere. It’s all in the past. James has already told me the outlook on my case is dim. I didn’t expect anything less.

  “Josh, you’re well aware of the fact that Savannah has filed a Petition for Dissolution of Marriage. That’s what caused our paths to cross. I understand that you are reluctant to let her go in a sense, but I’d like for you to explain why? You know the prison time you are facing. Do you love Savannah so much, or hate her so bad that you want her to endure the same sufferi
ng you must endure?”

  “Yes,” I answer calmly, and the fact that I didn’t distinguish which question I was answering wasn’t lost on her. She just sees no need in arguing with my madness apparently.

  Dr. Hampton clicks the pen closed then places the pen and legal pad on the table beside her. “You made good progress today, Josh.” She rolls her eyes up toward me, giving me a cautious glance before continuing, “But I need you to prepare yourself for the next session. I’m very interested in knowing more about Drew Varney and the loyalty behind your friendship. I know Drew is a sensitive subject for you, but that’s why I’m forewarning you now, so you’ll know what to expect when you walk in this room next week.”

  After my last session with Dr. Hampton, I had time to think about our discussion of Savannah and our family life. Savannah filed for a divorce weeks ago. In the recesses of my mind, I expected it to happen, but in my heart, that hollow part of my chest, I prayed like hell she would forgive me… She’d feel guilty that the kids were without their daddy and find a way to have the charges dropped. She’d forgiven me countless times before.

  Then that dreadful day came. I felt like I was walking the final steps of my life as I approached the inmate visitation room. There was a foreboding sense of anguish looming over me that I hadn’t felt in years. James didn’t hem-haw around about jack shit. He slammed the divorce papers down on the table and slid a pen toward me. At the young age of thirty I thought I was experiencing my first heart attack—the stress-induced worry finally doing me in… My chest felt so fuckin’ heavy and tight. I couldn’t breathe or see straight, a cloak of gray hazing my vision. Turns out, symptoms of a broken heart are similar to that of a heart attack.

  I managed to keep my shit together until yard time, then all hell broke loose. I was eager to draw blood. Just the desolate feeling of emptiness that ached my chest was enough to send me over the edge, but the splay of blood on my hands was enough to reel me in from the cusp of insanity. I knew attacking a guard would get my ass tossed under the jail, which was just what I wanted. I needed the solace to clear my mind and come to terms with the reality that I faced.