TAILSPIN

by Jaimie Roberts

  I start to sob, realising he’s reaching a point of no return. Fear creeps up my spine exponentially, wondering if I can get myself out of this.

  “I don’t want this.” I try moving my arm to push him off, but he holds me in place with one arm strapped across my chest, the other moving to push up my skirt. “Devon, no!” I scream, trying to move. It’s no use. “Please, don’t do this to me,” I beg as he starts to unbutton his jeans. “Please.”

  When he pushes his jeans down, I buck beneath him, screaming at the top of my lungs. His hand quickly covers my mouth as he moves my knickers out of the way. My chest tightens, making my lungs scream out in agony.

  Knowing what’s coming next, my body becomes rigid. I can’t see through my tears, but I can feel enough to know what’s happening. What’s going to happen?

  Once he places his erection at my entrance, I start to scream into his hand. I shake my head violently—frantically trying to will him to see sense. I try pushing myself up as much as I can to get away from him, but it only allows me a few more seconds before he degrades me in the worst way imaginable.

  He forces his way inside me, making me realise I’ve completely lost myself. The man who I used to love and who I once trusted is gone. How can a man who claims to love me tear me apart like this? How can a man who once said he would protect me until his dying breath end up being the beast I need protection from?

  As the pain sears me from the inside out, my head bobs as tears wrack my body. I try opening my mouth to cry out, but nothing comes. I can’t breathe. No air fills my airways to allow my beating heart to thump at the rate it is.

  He starts to move, grunting like a vicious animal. He is an animal, but it’s only now I realise how much of one he has become. I thought I could change him. I thought I could tame the demons inside of him. In the end, I’ve only succeeded in letting them out after having incited their wrath.

  Pain. That’s all I feel right now. I try moving my head away so I don’t have to see what’s happening. Whatever I do, it doesn’t take away the fact that I can feel each thrust, feel his skin on mine, hear each ragged breath he takes and moan he makes.

  I can feel and hear everything.

  “I love you, Andi. I fucking love you.” He says it repeatedly, as if somehow saying it makes what he’s doing okay. It’s not okay. It’s far from okay. I feel like someone’s ripping my heart out of my chest. My whole world is collapsing around me with a violent thud. I feel claustrophobic, like the walls are caving in on me. I can’t move. His body is pressed to mine, trapping me from any possible escape.

  I try closing my eyes, shutting out the sound so I don’t have to be in this body anymore. Bile rises in my throat. I feel like I’m going to be sick. He suddenly arches his back, crying out before stilling. My body goes rigid, feeling the pain inside me. I’m so glad it’s over, but now that it is, the urge to run is immense.

  As he places his head at the crook of my neck, he still has his hand over my mouth. Eventually, he moves it, allowing me to inhale a sharp breath, but he doesn’t get off. Every single cell in my body wants to move, but I know he won’t let me go if I try.

  So, against everything my mind and body is telling me to do, I remain still and let Devon relax on top of me. When I hear his steady breathing, I know he’s fallen asleep. I try to figure out how to move without waking him.

  A few more minutes go by, but all I’ve managed to move is my arm and leg. The rest of me is still pinned tightly underneath him. With my free hand, I push the coffee table away from me so I can try to slide myself out from underneath him. I manage to move a little, but he stirs, moaning. My heart is beating so fast. I don’t want to wake him because I don’t want to find out what he’ll do next.

  Agonisingly slowly, I manage to push myself from underneath him until I fall to the floor next to the couch. Holding my breath, I look, seeing him lying flat on his stomach, his face to the side of one of the sofa cushions. He looks peaceful. So peaceful, one could never imagine the horror he’s just unleashed on me.

  I push myself up, grabbing my things before I run to the door. I turn to look at Devon once more, making sure he’s where I left him. He hasn’t moved.

  I clutch the door handle, feeling a huge sigh of relief. My heart thumps and I’m sweating, but my body feels like it’s not mine. I have this urge to scrub myself clean until I’m rid of the dirt I feel etched into my skin. Until I’m rid of Devon for good.

  I swiftly open the door, slowly closing it so as not to make too much noise before I steadily walk towards the lift. When I step in and watch the doors close, it’s like I’m permanently closing a chapter of my life. A chapter I never want to read or even touch again.

  As I ride the lift down, I close my eyes, clutching everything tightly. I hope that if there is life beyond death, my mum is somehow with me now, comforting me like I know she would.

  “I’m so scared, Mum,” I whisper, shaking my head, wondering how on earth this all happened. I open my eyes, fresh tears falling down my face as I stare straight ahead.

  “What happens now?”

  Devon – Five years later

  Four years ago today, I was sentenced to twelve months for perverting the cause of justice. Of course, I pled guilty, so I was given a lighter sentence. The fact that it was my first offence and my brother died played a huge part in that. I served six months, but was out in four on good behaviour. Prison was hell, but I felt I deserved every minute of every day. I may have been doing time for something everyone knew I did, but I had been living a personal hell for something, as far as I’m aware, only Andi and I knew about.

  I was drinking and had taken medication. I know that’s no excuse for what I did, but I was a different person back then. I was an addict, just like my mother and my brother. I was just too stupid and stubborn to admit it. All those times I got drunk, I ended up doing something I shouldn’t. I think that’s why I tried not to drink. Because, deep down, I knew I had a major problem. Deep down, I knew that if I drank, I could ruin the one good thing I had in my life. I was wrong to keep what my brother did a secret. I know that now. I guess the only excuse I had was my brother. I grew up protecting him, doing the same into adulthood. Andi and Charlie will never forgive me, and I don’t expect them to. I certainly won’t ever be able to forgive myself for all the pain I’ve caused. Because of my selfishness, I ended up fucking up Andi’s life. She deserves so much better, and I know that’s what she’s got in New York.

  “Would you like to try a sample of our coconut cake, sir?”

  I put my hand out, tapping my belly with the other. “No, I’m fine. Thank you. I think I’ve had enough.” I’m about to tell him which cake was my favourite when the bell on the door rings, alerting us of another customer. The owner of the bakery looks at me. “I’ll be right back. Let me just serve this customer.”

  I nod, watching as he moves around the other side. I don’t look to see who’s come in. Instead, I take a sip of my coffee, thinking about which cakes to buy for a major client’s fiftieth birthday. I wasn’t happy that I had to come to the city where Andi lives and works, but the pull was too much.

  “How can I help you?” I hear his cheery voice say.

  “I’ve come to pick up a cake for my daughter.”

  At the sound of the voice, my back stiffens. Surely it isn’t… I don’t turn to confirm my suspicions. I’m too scared.

  “Ah, yes,” he says, pausing a moment. “And is it your birthday, young lady?”

  “Yes,” I hear this little voice say.

  “How old will you be?”

  “I’m going to be four.”

  My heart rate picks up as I start to do the math in my head. Five years ago, Andi was still in London. Five years ago, I…

  I place my head in my hands. Surely not? Surely life wouldn’t be that cruel to her. Maybe it’s not her. Maybe my mind is playing tricks on me, so it hones in on a British accent, making me immediately assume it’s Andi.

  “Four years
old,” the man says. “Wow, look at how big you are for four. Are you going to have a big party?”

  “Yes,” she answers in a sweet voice. My heart squeezes at the sound of it. “I’m going to have a pool party with all my friends. We’re going to have balloons and a clown. Mommy doesn’t like clowns, but Daddy told her she needed to … what was it, Mommy?”

  “Face my fears, sweetheart.”

  Closing my eyes, I grip my fists tightly. It sounds like she’s moved on, maybe even gotten married. A part of me is happy for her, but another big part thinks it should have been me. In fact, I was planning on asking her to marry me before everything happened.

  I’m desperate to turn around to confirm what I believe to be true, but I’m scared of what I might find if I do.

  I hear the little girl giggle and my gut twists. I don’t know what she looks like, but she sounds perfect.

  “So, what cake was it you ordered?”

  “It was the chocolate fudge brownie one,” the little girl answers.

  I smile. I know that was Andi’s favourite and also the one I thought about ordering today.

  “Oh yes, I remember. You obviously loved the movie Dory because I have it down here that you wanted her all over your cake.”

  She giggles again. “Just keep swimming,” she says in her beautiful voice.

  He laughs. “Okay. Let me go check in back. I believe I know exactly where it is.”

  It goes silent for a moment and my heart rate picks up. Could she be looking at me? I certainly don’t want to turn to find out. Instead, I take a sip of my coffee. Maybe it isn’t her. Maybe there’s another English woman living out here who sounds exactly like her.

  The bell on the door rings again, allowing me to release a breath. “Darling, there you are.”

  “Daddy!” the little girl screams. I hear her sprinting toward the door.

  “Hey, pumpkin. How’s my favourite girl?”

  “We’re picking up my cake.”

  “Here it is,” the cheery man says.

  “Wow. That looks beautiful.”

  I close my eyes at the sound of her voice.

  “I’ll go take this to the car. You take your time.” When I hear footsteps retreating to the door, I can’t help but peek over my shoulder. Aaron.

  “Here’s your receipt.”

  “Thanks,” she says. “Come on, Meredith. We have to get going now.”

  My breath hitches. That was Andi’s mother’s name.

  “Okay, Mommy.”

  I hear them moving. When they reach the door, I can’t help but turn my head to look. My eyes immediately land on Andi. She looks absolutely beautiful. Despite the heat of this warm August day, she looks as fresh as a daisy. She has aged, but the five years look good on her. In fact, she looks even more beautiful than I remember … if that is even possible.

  Then my eyes land on the little girl. The little girl I know must be mine. My heart aches and my stomach twists. How can something so beautiful be born from such an ugly situation? There’s no way Andi deserves to have a constant reminder of what I did to her that night, but she does.

  And she’s the most precious thing I have ever laid eyes on.

  She has brown curls and a heart-shaped face. Her eyes are big and brown, and she has the cutest little dimple in her cheek. She’s wearing a pink sundress and red shoes. I can’t help the smile spreading across my face.

  Then I look up again to watch Andi leaving the shop, clutching her daughter’s hand protectively. I think she’s going to leave without seeing me, but as if some unknown will is controlling this encounter, her eyes snap to mine. She stills, her eyes widening in fear. My heart twists at the knowledge that I did this to her.

  For a moment, neither one of us can seem to look away. She stands still, holding the door, and I’m frozen rigid to my chair. I know I should look away, but I can’t. I need to show her that I’m not a threat. I need her to know that she no longer has to fear me.

  But how?

  Then it comes to me. I offer her a small smile before my mouth parts to say the words I know she was longing to hear all those times she worked hard at the office. All the times she did all the chores I demanded of her without a grumble. All the years she’s spent raising our precious daughter—even with the knowledge she was conceived the way she was. I had to offer her one last thing. I had to offer her something so she knew she no longer needed to be afraid of me. It was the least I could do.

  So I manage those two words. Two tiny, insignificant words that I should have said every minute of every day she was in my life. Two precious words that are not hard to say, but can mean so much.

  “Thank you.”

  For lovers of dark and twisted...

  I’m not a good person. In fact, I’m a real bitch. If the opportunity arises, I will take your husband, give him the best sex he’s ever had, and laugh behind your back once I’m done with him. I do not put on airs and graces. I just take what I want whenever I want it.

  I am the abused who has become the abuser. I live for power because all power had been stripped from me for years. Now that I have it back, I feed off of it like it’s my primary sustenance, and I don’t care who I hurt in the process.

  Every woman hates me, but do you know what? I don’t give a shit.

  You won’t like me. I’m not here to be liked. You want to know my story? I won’t stop you from observing. Just know that once I’m done with you, no shower—no matter how scalding—will ever get me out from under your skin.

  Warning: If you’re looking for pink, fluffy clouds, rainbows, and HEA’s, then this book is not for you. These pages contain flashback scenes of child abuse in all forms (physical, sexual, and emotional) as well as BDSM and other taboo themes.

  Love does not live in this book. Only dark, twisted, and sick obsessions thrive here.

  You. Have. Been. Warned!

  I stand over my father’s grave, wiping the tears that threaten to fall onto the soil beneath my feet. I’m wearing a black dress, which is cut just above the knee, and on my feet is a pair of brand new, black and red Louboutin high heels. I scream class, but I am also the perfect image of a daughter in deep distress over her father’s untimely death.

  And what an untimely death it was.

  I clutch my chest, heaving sobs of grief as I bend down to lay new flowers at his grave. I have been coming here every single day, bringing new flowers to replace the old ones. I pick up yesterday’s flowers and toss them aside as I trace the line of my father’s name on his headstone.

  Here lies Richard Valentine, loving father to two daughters. Born 26th January 1970, Died 15th July 2016.

  That was three weeks ago. His body was found buried in Virginia Water in Surrey—only nineteen miles or so from where I live. He was buried deep, but a storm sixteen days ago unearthed his decaying body. He had a stab wound in his back which was determined to be the cause of his death. It was murder, of course, and it is only now that the police are investigating.

  At first, they thought he had run away—possibly met a girl, got swept off his feet, and was living by the beach, sipping cocktails with a buxom blonde. My sister kept on the case, though. She tried to tell them that it wasn’t like him to just disappear without at least keeping in touch. I vouched for her to the police, but I also reminded her of that time when he disappeared for a year without a trace and came back just as suddenly as he had left. I knew the real reason why, but I didn’t divulge it to my sister or to the police. That little secret was between Daddy and me alone. The two police officers gave each other that look… The one that says, “Yeah, there’s no foul play here.” They just thought he had found the girl of his dreams and was busy acting the part of the doting boyfriend to his new plaything.

  As I think on this, I stroke his grave tenderly and sweep away the leaves that have fallen from the nearby trees. I need to make sure that it is clean and tidy before kneeling down at his grave and throwing my arms over the gravestone. With my arms shielding me f
rom anyone who may be watching, I take in a long, deep breath. A smirk rises on my face as I utter the words, “You always loved it when I threw my arms around you, didn’t you?” I sigh, scooting up to get closer to his headstone before spitting on his grave.

  “I hope you’re enjoying your time in Hell, Daddy.”

  I won’t lie. Writing Tailspin was kind of hard at times—especially since I already knew the ending. There were a number of times I had to break away for a while, take a deep breath, and go back again. I won’t say this book is deep, but it has a number of deep elements that are both endearing and heartbreaking at the same time. I really wanted Andi and Devon to make it, but alas, it was never meant to be. He had already done one thing that was unforgiveable, but he could never come back from the second. That scene wasn’t easy. For a few months, I lived with Andi and Devon in my head. To have one lead character do that to another was heart-wrenching. I’m glad I wrote it, though. I’m glad I write every book, as every one of them helps me write the next.

  Anyway, I hope you enjoyed the story and it is enough for you to continue reading further books from me. It’s what I live for. I can’t think of anything else I would rather do. I know I sometimes annoy the hubs because he “loses” his wife while I write, but he knows it’s my dream. My family will always come first, but they support me and I couldn’t do it without them. I love them all to bits.

  Kim Young, Kim’s Fiction Proofreading & Editing Services… Thank you so much for editing the hell out of this book! You took away around a thousand words of shit. I seriously don’t know how you do it. It just goes to show just how much dribble I spill, lol. Seriously, though, you are awesome. I can’t wait to send you my next book.

  My PA, Sally-ann Hall… Thank you for all your support and hard work. You are a super trooper and a friend. You read Tailspin right after I finished the first draft and, I must admit, I was as nervous as hell. I knew you would be honest, and I needed that. I’m just so grateful that you enjoyed it in the end. When you told me I broke your heart, it gave me the knowledge I had done the best I could.