by Kara Liane
Until someone has walked in my shoes, I would truly hope they wouldn’t pass judgment. I was so scared that night. Not only did I think Greg was going to rape me, but I also thought he was going to kill me. The fury radiating off of that man was palpable. He was so angry with me for not being so grateful for what he deemed was some kind of gift he was bestowing upon me.
It was so sick and twisted, that I don’t even want to think about it. I don’t want to ever see that man’s face again for the rest of my life. He scares the absolute bejesus out of me. I never want to feel that way again. Being consumed by hate for another person is no way to live. If you stay in that cave of despair, you’ll never find your way back out into the light. I just want to be in Alexi’s arms right now—comforted by his strength and acceptance. I feel like an idiot because I am old fashioned in the sense that I want him to say those three little words first.
Why do we call those words little? Little they are not. Why couldn’t I say them first?
Now here I sit, alone, on the couch, as Alexi went to answer the door. I had a bad feeling about who might be on the other side. But I think I was almost in a state of shock from having to retell the horrific events. I had my legs tucked to my chest, and I began rocking. This was my way of protecting myself, and it was somehow a calming technique for me. In this position, no one could get to me. I knew I was in a fragile state of mind at the moment. I had retreated into my mind for times such as this. At least I could process what was going on internally, as best I could.
I knew Alexi would understand when he returned and found me this way. But chills ran down my spine, and my hair stood on end, when I heard a very loud, shrill female voice echoing from the foyer—it was foretelling. I wasn’t even trying to eavesdrop, you just couldn’t miss it given her volume.
“I said I’m fucking pregnant!” the girl yelled.
“Will you keep your voice down goddamnit?” Alexi’s voice boomed and echoed outward.
“Why? Do you have another whore here? You do, don’t you?” she accused.
I was shaking like a leaf. It’s like I heard everything, but I was trying so hard to shield my heart and mind from the conversation. I was losing the battle greatly.
“Well, I hope this whore and your next thousand whores enjoy fucking a daddy,” the obnoxious girl said.
God, my stomach was churning. I was surely going to throw up soon.
“Calm the fuck down, will you? Let’s sit down and rationally talk about this. I’ll be right back. Just stay here and let me take care of some things,” I heard Alexi say with little finesse to his reply.
Footsteps were coming toward me. I knew tears were just streaming down my face, but they weren’t even registering with me.
“Jesus, Angel. I’m so fucking sorry,” he stated in the most frantic tone.
I couldn’t even look at him, I just closed my eyes tightly and kept rocking. If I rocked long enough, then maybe I’d pass out. He picked me up. This had become such a familiar act, and one I normally loved. Now I hated it. He held me to his chest and tried to soothe me, but I wasn’t having it. I know I struggled a bit, I just wanted to keep rocking.
Before he could say or do anything else, I heard heels clacking on the marble floors, and the obnoxious one must have been heading this way. I heard laughter from her, but it was more of a cackling—that same disturbing chill ran down my spine.
“So this is the newest little whore?” the shrill voice said accusingly.
I finally forced myself to look, and for the love of God, I wish I hadn’t.
This hurt so badly seeing what I had feared all along was Alexi’s type. She must be a model.
Then in an instant, I knew who this was without Alexi even needing to introduce us. This was Britney. She was so tall, nothing like me. She must have been close to six feet, probably was over that with the heels. She wore the most gorgeous red stilettos, and a perfectly tailored nude-colored mini dress to match the overall look. Her blonde hair was coifed in the most stunning updo. Her makeup and jewelry were subtle, but just utterly perfect. She was so skinny, her bones protruded in that model way. Her legs went on for days. She had amazingly arched brows, flawless skin, and her high cheekbones made me so jealous, I wanted to spit.
Her angular facial features and doe eyes made me want to take her designer red shoes and nude dress, and choke her with it. I looked in her eyes and they were almost a violet color. Maybe she was wearing contacts or something? I didn’t know. It didn’t matter. She was perfect, and all my insecurities stabbed me at once like I was having an acupuncture treatment. Her look of disdain hit me with laser precision. I really am going to throw up now. I struggled again in Alexi’s arms and turned away from him, and threw up right there on the couch.
“That is the most fucking disgusting thing I’ve ever seen. Even with being pregnant, I don’t even fucking throw up like that,” Britney seethed.
Alexi pulled my hair away from my face and ran his hand up and down my back.
“Sssssorrryyyy,” is all I could get out.
I still didn’t feel better. There was still this churning deep within, and it was insidious, and tearing me up from the inside. The smell from my vomit was revolting. I didn’t know how he could stand to be so close to me.
Alexi turned to Britney and yelled so loud, “Goddamnit, Britney. Go fucking wait for me in the kitchen, and I’ll deal with you when I’m goddamn good and ready. Don’t be such a fucking bitch! If I’m the fucking father of your alleged baby, then you don’t want to piss me the fuck off because you’ll be dealing with me for a long time. I didn’t even fucking want kids. Now get the fuck out of here!”
Britney huffed but didn’t even seem to bat an eyelash at his temper and outburst. She stomped out of the room like she was on the freakin’ catwalk. God, I hated her. Once I heard the tap of her heels disappear, I threw up a little more. Then the dry heaves started, and my body wretched. It felt like forever before I could stop shaking. Alexi must have left me at some point because the next thing I felt was a cool cloth rubbing my forehead and neck, and him cleaning my face.
“I need a shower,” I practically sobbed out.
He didn’t even hesitate at my request. He picked me up and carried me upstairs into the master suite bathroom. He set me down on the toilet seat and started the water. He tried to pull my shirt up, I’m assuming to undress me, but I freaked out and started swatting his hands away violently.
“No!” I screamed. “Please get out. I need to be alone for a little while,” I begged.
Forever, is the word I said in my mind.
The tears were flowing so much, I couldn’t even see. I’m surprised I was even able to talk and string two words together. A shattering was occurring inside my chest, and I didn’t want to address it until I was alone.
“Baby, I can’t leave you like this. Not in this condition,” he replied.
“Alexi, if you don’t get out…then I’ll just go jump in the lake. I mean it!” I came back with.
I still hadn’t once yet looked at his face, and I didn’t dare look in his eyes. I could make out through my blurring vision that his hands were flexing, but that was about all I could see.
After a few minutes of him breathing heavy he said, “Okay, Angel.”
I was glad he was at least respecting my wishes. God, I didn’t want him to call me that, though.
“Please yell for me if you need anything,” he implored.
“Just go talk to Britney. When you’re done, maybe we’ll talk then. Otherwise, please just leave me alone for now,” I instructed in a tone that even surprised me.
My tone was so monotonous, like I was separate from myself. Even I could recognize that it was a bit scary. He still didn’t move. I’m sure he was debating to stay or go. Finally, after a few more minutes, he turned and walked out the door. I didn’t even make it into the shower for another twenty minutes. I fell to the floor and thought I’d die from the pain. I could finally acknowledge the splinterin
g going on within my chest. It was my heart shattering into the most jagged shards that ripped me apart. Surely pain of this magnitude would subside eventually, right? In this moment, I hated Alexi. But how do you hate someone so much and love them so much at the same time?
Britney cut me to ribbons downstairs. But Alexi is the one who handed her the scissors. He didn’t defend me down there. Well, I guess this is what I get for spilling my guts to him. God, I was a fool for thinking he’d ever love me. He may have not been so nice to Britney, but it didn’t matter at this point. She was carrying his baby, and I was carrying the remnants of my heart. How in the world in the last nine days had all this happened?
In addition to all the pain I’d already endured, I also realized he didn’t want children. Was I fool enough to think that I’d want a future with him anyway? He said he’d never lie, so I guess I had to accept that he felt this way about having a family. Could I have given up one of my dreams just for him? Could I live without ever being a mother? I didn’t really know the answer, but it didn’t matter now, did it?
I couldn’t even let myself think of that horrid model with a baby bump. She’d probably starve the poor child in utero to keep that figure. God, that was an awful thing to ponder. I had to stop thinking and feeling these nightmarish things.
I finally felt strong enough to get up off the floor. It took a few attempts, but I managed to get up. I undressed and stepped into the stream of the water. I couldn’t tell you if the water was hot or cold. I just felt so dirty.
I scrubbed my skin until it was raw. I didn’t know how to cope with this level of hurt. Greg could have raped me that day, and I don’t think it would have compared to the betrayal I was feeling right now. Alexi…why? Gone was the building I had begun to construct of us. It was now being demolished before my very eyes.
***
Alexi
I stood outside the bathroom door having just left Caylan. I could hear her sobbing and falling apart. I felt numb. Numb, numb, and more numbness. Maybe this was my way of protecting myself from the agony of what just happened.
There was too much to deal with at the moment, so I welcomed the desolation. I have never in my life felt more torn in half by two women. Caylan had my fucking heart, but Britney had me by the fucking balls.
If she was really carrying my baby, then I couldn’t treat her how I really wanted to. If she was a man, we would have already gone a few rounds in the ring. It would have been a TKO, but I would have kept fighting anyway. The way she acted was unforgiveable. But she wasn’t a man. She was potentially the mother of my child, and I had to maintain some level of civility for the child’s sake. I couldn’t believe she fucking stalked me here at the lake house. I would have to rip Chris a new one for telling her where I was, and for giving her the address.
Of course, it occurred to me that she could be lying about the whole thing, and that she may not even be pregnant. It also occurred to me that she could be pregnant, but the baby not be mine. Finally, the third scenario being that she was pregnant, and the child was mine.
Undoubtedly, I was praying for the fact that she was just flat out lying—scenario number one would be the best outcome. Even if the second scenario was the truth, it still sickened me thinking that that vicious woman, with a viper tongue no less, could be a mother. The child would be the most unlucky little one. Icy pricks of doom were stabbing me in the gut. I was so sick to my stomach, I thought I might throw up too. I was hurting so badly having to witness Caylan be in that condition. After her just recounting what that fucking piece-of-shit-bastard Greg did to her—and now fucking Britney’s words—I wanted to break the goddamn walls of this house down!
I had to calm the fuck down before I could even deal with Britney. And fuck me, when I said I never wanted kids, I meant not with Britney. Did I specify that, though? Fuck it all, I couldn’t remember at this point.
If you asked me even just last week if I wanted children, I would have said no. When Britney told me she was pregnant, for one brief, fleeting moment, I pictured Caylan’s sweet face saying those words to me—it would have been heaven. For Caylan to be carrying my child would be the ultimate sign of love, commitment, trust, and possession. To have her belly swell with the life we both created, was something I desperately wanted now because it would be with her. Britney fucking pulverized that image.
I was practically on autopilot during that whole fucking horrific scene downstairs. I pulled at my hair so hard, I’m surprised I didn’t come away with chunks missing. I was so fucking furious at the world at the moment. But this was no one’s fault but my own. I did this to myself. I did this to Britney, and I did this to Caylan. Fuck, it must have sounded horrible to Caylan’s ears with what went down between Britney and I. The worst part was I didn’t even fucking defend her. I let Britney call her a fucking whore. I just reduced the beautiful love making we had last night to a measly fuck.
What Caylan also didn’t realize is that I couldn’t reason with crazy. Crazy being named fucking Britney. When someone is that far off the charts, you’re only weapon of defense at the time is to appease them somewhat. So that’s what I did.
I keep coming back to that sinking feeling that I don’t fucking deserve Caylan. I love her, but could I keep her? Would she forgive me if I tried to explain myself?
I prayed to God she would. I didn’t want to lose her and lose what we had, before it even started. This was the appropriate metaphor to my life at this juncture, though. She was on one side of the door, and I on the other side. She was so close, yet out of my reach—with a wall between us. I leaned my forehead on the door, and for the first time the dam broke—tears fell from my eyes. Caylan brought me to my fucking knees.
I have no idea how much time had passed, but I finally heard the water shut off. I scrambled up off the floor to my feet, and scurried down the stairs. I still wasn’t ready to face Britney. I wanted nothing more than to run back upstairs and hold Caylan and tell her how much I loved her, but she needed space and time. If I told her all the things in my heart right now, then it would somehow pollute it. I would be patient, and wait. There would be time to explain later, I hoped.
I walked into the living room, feeling bogged down by my own stupidity. I saw the throw up on the couch and decided to clean it up. I didn’t fucking care about the mess or any of that shit. Fuck, I’d buy a new couch if I had to. I just didn’t want Caylan to have to deal with it or see it, and be reminded of what she just went through.
I retrieved cleaning supplies from the cabinet, under the sink, in the nearby bathroom. I didn’t dare venture near the kitchen yet, where the janitorial closet was located. After thoroughly cleaning everything I could with the meager supplies I had, I lit a candle to remove any traces of remaining odor. Then I disposed of the mess in the trash can in the garage.
“Okay, asshole. Time to face the music,” I said to myself aloud.
I tentatively walked into the kitchen, and there stood the bitch. Britney was naked, wearing only her heels, leaning against the counter. She was posing, in what I assume she thought was some kind of a come-hither way, but I was only repulsed. Her stomach was as flat as could be. Could there really be a baby in there? The doctor in me had so many questions for her. I would have to get to the bottom of this lie—or truth—that she was telling. Nothing in me even remotely reacted in a sexual sense to her body. I was so disgusted by her now. I don’t even know what I saw in her in the first place. I hated myself for this.
“Jesus Christ, Britney. Have some self-respect and put on some fucking clothes. This is way out of line,” I barked at her.
At that, she wore a crazed, coquettish look on her face. I was nervous now. She straightened up from the counter and started to walk toward me.
She purred out, “Lover, we can do this the easy way, or the hard way. Either way, someone is going to get fucked long and hard.”
That is when my stomach dropped out.
Chapter 15: Mom Always Said Don’t Play Ball in the
House
Caylan
I finally emerged from the bathroom. I went through my grooming and hygiene ritual all so mechanically. I brushed my teeth vigorously to rid my mouth of the poison. No such luck, though, even in a metaphorical and literal sense.
I didn’t attempt to do anything with my hair, except pull it back with a hair tie to get it out of my way. No amount of makeup would hide the pain on my face, so why bother? I dressed in comfortable clothes. It looked nice outside from what I could see through the sliding doors. But I felt so cold, so I put on a sweater and some flannel pajama bottoms. I didn’t see the point in going for anything above mediocre. There was a model in the house for goodness sake! No matter what I did, I wouldn’t measure up. Why try then?
I studiously packed all my belongings, and placed my weekender bag by the door. Thank God I left my cell phone on the bedside table. It was my salvation at that moment. I picked it up and gripped it like it was my best friend that I hadn’t seen since high school. This little device was my ticket out of here. I quickly unlocked the phone and brought up Meg’s number. I hit the green button to connect me to her, and held the phone to my ear. She answered on the first ring.
“I can’t believe you’re calling me already. Surely the weekend isn’t over. Either he’s bad in bed, or you want to dish on how bad he isn’t in bed,” she chortled.
My voice broke at her words, “Megs...,” I cried out. I tried again, “Megs, I need you to come get me.”
Panic was laced in her voice. “God, what’s wrong sweetie? Did he fucking hurt you? I’ll fucking kill him if he did!” she yelled.
