“Tell me what happened when you walked into your bedroom, Mr. Rogers.”
Cries filled the room and I wasn’t sure if it was from the grieving husband or from me. Could I take any more of this? Jesus, I knew what was happening. I’d heard accounts close to this one before. So why wasn’t I numbing? I should have been able to compose a straight face, or act like it wasn’t affecting me, but it was. I was beginning to sob like a baby and it was exactly what Jaime wanted. That had to be why he was doing this. He wanted me to break. He wanted me to choose not to die. He just didn’t understand that I didn’t have a choice. What he saw was a woman with a heart. A woman who was sympathizing and possibly even showing remorse and guilt over her own choice. Didn’t he realize that was the problem? I felt too much. I was a whore to my emotions, and they were fucking me at every chance they got. I couldn’t take this anymore.
“How much longer?”
His jaw tightened as he turned to me. “How much longer … Master. And you’ll keep watching until I say.”
“Play these videos all you want, but they change nothing. I wish they could.”
Jaime remained quiet while he stared down at me. Given the way his eyebrows were drawn in, I knew he was thinking. I didn’t get to try to figure out what it was before Mr. Rogers’ voice pulled me back to the screen.
“Patty. Patty was … lying on the bed, curled around my pillow. Her mascara was streaked down her face. It was so dark against her pale skin. Pale,” he mumbled. “She was so … drained of color. I froze, then, when I noticed. The floor, my world, it vanished when I saw her like that. I don’t how long I stood there. The next thing I remembered was running my hands down her face and screaming out her name. I was shaking her, begging … her.”
Mr. Rogers was at full-blown sobs now, and I was right there with him, crying harder than I could ever remember. I felt his pain. It was making it hard to breathe as he continued.
“I called 9-1-1 but I never let her go. I must have apologized a million times—I’m sorry for being a horrible husband. I’m sorry for not listening to you. I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I was sorry for everything. Little good it did. My wife never woke up. She never came back to life. It’s amazing.” Mr. Rogers’ eyes rose to the man interviewing him. “I knew I loved her. She had my heart. But when I lost her … nothing came close to comparing to what she truly meant to me. I suddenly saw our connection for what it was. True love, buried under obligations and routine, over time. And I let her down. I didn’t fight for that love like I should have. I didn’t make her my number one priority like a good husband’s meant to do. I failed her. I failed in my vows to her as her husband, and I failed in something as simple as being her friend. She needed me and I was so distracted that I didn’t see it. Heaven help me, I’m so lost without Patty. I don’t think I can do this anymore. There’s times … I think about joining her—”
The screen clicked off and my head jerked to Jaime. He stepped to the side, placing the remote on the table.
“What are you doing? Why did you turn it off?”
“We’re going to do an exercise.”
My head shook as I glanced back at the television. “I don’t want to do an exercise. What happened to him? Did he…? Is he dead, too?”
Jaime walked to the desk, grabbing a piece of blank paper and a crayon from the top. “I want you to come sit and write down three good qualities about yourself.”
“What?” I clamped my mouth shut at his hard look, and stood. The walk to the desk was fast and full of aggravation. He made me watch all of these interviews and the moment I didn’t want to stop, he left me full of questions.
“Good.” Jaime’s hand settled on my shoulder as I lowered to the chair. His touch was light, but it didn’t stop me from feeling him so strongly. It was as if his contact flipped some invisible switch inside of me. The powerful energy couldn’t be mistaken. It was so dominant and unbending that my true self softened. And maybe I did on the outside as well. I was leaning back closer to him as his weight grew heavier on me. The aggravation I had felt only moments ago was suddenly gone and I couldn’t ignore the truth as I looked up at our reflection in the mirror ahead.
“Three good qualities, slave.”
The edge of his thumb trailed down my neck and I shivered as my skin tightened into goosebumps. I was trembling. I wanted him. I wanted Jaime, just like I did on the St. Andrew’s cross. My fingers traced over the bandage on my wrist. Jaime had cleaned and wrapped the cuts efficiently, cold as ice toward me.
The cutting I had undergone with his razor didn’t change anything that we had shared. Not on my end. I had made a mistake taking that blade to my arm. I knew that. Panic had hurled me forward until the blood was suddenly there leaving me, just like the anxiety and pain I harbored. At least, that’s what I was telling myself. Truth was, I had a problem. One I had carried for so many years that I couldn’t see a way out. Not even if I wanted to stop the addiction. That scared me.
“I’m nice.”
“Nice, how?”
I frowned, looking up to his face in the mirror. “Actually, it’s probably not a very good quality. Not for me. You see, I’m too nice. People take advantage. But I think you knew that.”
“Only because you allow them. You can be nice and still demand respect. I’ll teach you. Now write that down.”
My fingers dropped from the bandage and I wrote bigger than usual, hoping my messy handwriting was clear enough for Jaime to read.
“What else?”
“I’m dependable?”
“Are you? You don’t sound so sure.”
“When I’m not being suffocated by this depression, I am.”
The light touch traveled up my neck and my lids lowered while I soaked in the contact. It had been too long since someone had given me any form of affection. I didn’t want him to stop.
“I believe you’re a dependable person. Write it down.”
Where I thought he would stop at my nod, my Master didn’t. The caress slid up and down continuously as I tried to focus on spelling the word.
“You’re doing very well. One more good quality, slave.”
Seconds passed while I scoured my mind for something—anything. My pulse was racing the longer Jaime showed me attention. And he was spanning more distance now. Higher his fingers rose, brushing behind my ear, and then dropping to where my shift rested on my shoulder. I wanted to lean more into him. To turn and … what? Beg him to kiss me?
Fuck, my mind was spinning, but I knew what I wanted.
“I’m honest.” I turned to sit sideways on my chair, looking up at him. “I’m honest and I believe you are too. What is this, Master? What are your intentions for doing this?”
Jaime’s hand began lowering to his side and I couldn’t stop myself from reaching for it. The moment I pushed my fingers through his and rose, something I could only detect as unease flashed in his depths.
“Tell me you want me. I know you do. Be honest with me. You asked if I felt it too. That means you feel something for me.”
“Sit back down.”
The need to argue was there, but so was my fear of him pulling back like he had the last time. Slowly, I sat, analyzing every small expression that flashed over his face.
“Good. Now turn and write that down.”
Reluctance plagued me, but I turned back to the desk and obeyed. Halfway through the word his fingers returned, this time teasingly sliding along my hairline while he wrapped his hand around the back of my neck. I froze, waiting as he lowered even with my ear.
“I am honest. We both know I want you. We also both know why I can’t.”
“Because I’m probably going to die?”
Jaime paused. “No. Because I am your Master and as my slave, you are not there yet.”
“Not there? What do you mean? Are you saying …” I met his eyes in the mirror and only one thing came to mind. It was enough to bring my anger back. “Are you saying that I’m not competent enough to make the decis
ion on whether or not I should have sex with you?”
“Yes. I think until you can decide beyond a shadow of a doubt whether you want to live or die, you’re not capable.”
“The decision is not mine. I see no way around the inevitable. Am I selfish for wanting you that way despite what I know will probably happen? Perhaps. But I’m honest. I want you. The question is, do you want me too?”
Jaime’s eyes narrowed while the seconds passed. “I’m sorry. I can’t give you that part of me until you face the fact that you do have a choice. I see we’re finished.” He took a step back, pinning me with emotionless eyes. “You think you’re only option is death. You don’t want to fight to live. If that’s your mindset, lessons are over.”
Chapter 18
Jaime
The metal was cold against my fingers as I withdrew the gun from my pocket. Nothing prepared me for the expression on Lydia’s face. Her eyes were wider, now. Whether it was the denial of intimacy or the recognition of what I held, I wasn’t sure. Maybe it was both. Her lips parted and my heart was in my throat as I let the revolver rest at my side.
“The lessons are over? So … it’s time, then? Here?”
I licked my lips, nodding. “You deserve better than some cheap motel. There’s a single bullet in the chamber. You have one shot.”
Color quickly drained from my slave’s face and it only made raising my hand even harder. Tests. Sevastian was right in urging me to go through with them. I had to access Lydia’s state of mind. Would she really attempt suicide? Worse? Would she try to kill me in hopes of escape? I would never know unless I put the gun in her hand, which wasn’t going to take long. She was already inching closer, but not as eagerly as one would who was longing for death. I hoped.
“This isn’t real … is it? No, this can’t be real. This is a test.”
My hand lifted higher, urging her even closer to a nightmare she had no idea she was walking into.
“I can show you the bullet if you’d like. There is one inside. If death is the only option you’ll accept, this is going to be your only chance to get it for a long while.”
“You’re lying. You wouldn’t give in so easily. Not after everything you’ve said and done.”
I stepped closer, closing the distance while she studied me. “I’m going to fill you in on a little secret. I saw potential in you. I thought I could convince you to choose life. The truth is, I help people who are battling whether to choose life or death. I show them their worth. I change their lives into something great. But I can’t help you if you’ve already given up. And frankly, I don’t have the time to fight for you if you’re already gone. There are people who need me. People who want to live, despite death’s call. So here, take this. Just know … if you have doubt that you want to do this—don’t pull the trigger. I’m here for you. I can help you if that’s what you really want.”
The weight of the gun disappeared from my hand as Lydia took it from my grasp.
“I don’t believe you,” she said, shakily. “Something’s not right.”
I shrugged, letting sadness etch onto my face. And this time it was one hundred percent real. I truly was worried about her possible choice. “Believe what you want. There’s only one way to find out.”
The cylinder popped open and air rushed out of Lydia’s mouth as her eyes shot up to mine.
“You weren’t lying. There’s really a bullet in here.”
“The question is, are you going to use it? You don’t have to. You can hand the gun back to me and we can continue with these lessons like this never happened. I can make you better, slave. We can find a way to make you happy again.”
Tears gathered in Lydia’s eyes and she gave her head a hard shake almost immediately. “Do you not think I’ve tried to find happiness? I’ve found it! Then it’s taken away from me. Even if I did … even if I managed to get past it this time, the thoughts will come back. They always do. I can’t outrun this!”
My hands slowly rose as I tried to calm her increasing emotion. I needed her to think clearly, to not decide impulsively because she was upset. “It’s not about outrunning these emotions. It’s about facing and coping with them. It can be done, I promise you. In whatever path you choose for help, there are ways. We can find what works best for you. If you choose to live, I will be there for you every step of the way. I will not brush you aside or disappear once you’re better. I know these ups and downs. I live them, remember? What we share from here on out will be for life. I will always be your lifeline when you need one. Time, location—none of that will matter. All you have to do is reach out to me. You don’t even have to say a word. Reach and I will meet you. Call and I will answer … and I will come. Always. You don’t have to be alone anymore. You can have me.”
“Have you?”
At my nod, Lydia’s head lowered to look at the gun. I felt sick at my confession. I was pouring my heart out to her, begging in ways—begging for things—she didn’t even know. And it wasn’t easy. She was going to hurt me with her actions in a few seconds. I knew that as she stared at the weapon in her hands. She said numerous times she wanted to escape this life. To disappear from the pain. So why should this time be any different? She was about to get what she was asking for in her mind, so why should she care about my feelings? She’d be free from this pain, and I didn’t blame her from wanting to escape it. I’d been there. Even now I knew how hard life could be when suicide raged inside. But Lydia deserved to see what happy was. I could do that for her. I knew I could. And she could give me the one thing I yearned for. The woman made me feel when hardly anything else did. I wanted her, dammit. I wanted the impossible dream I’d only teased myself with for all these years. We could do this together.
The click of the hammer all but stopped my pulse. But the gun didn’t rise as Lydia’s attention came back to me. That didn’t matter, though. What she had done by preparing the gun… It was a sign graver than her sticking the barrel in her mouth. It revealed more to me than she even knew. She could die. She wanted it badly enough. The action told me that. She wasn’t sticking the barrel in her mouth first and trying to find the courage to shoot. No… Death wasn’t something she feared. The hardest part was already done. All she’d have to do was find the placement and with a snap of her finger, it could all be over with.
“You say I have you for life. Does that mean I have to stay here and live like this? As a guarded prisoner?”
“No. Not at all. I will prepare you for the outside world. I will help every way possible. It can be a new start, a new life after you leave here.”
“Does that start include medication and therapists?”
My jaw clenched and I knew I couldn’t lie. She deserved to know the truth. “In your case, I would suggest both, but the medication is likely a definite. I know with your past, you’re against that route, but it doesn’t have to be a bad thing. I’ve seen anti-depressants do wonders for people. Of course, it is your choice. You have to know…” I swallowed hard, running my hand through my hair at what felt like a losing battle. “Slave, if you make it these four weeks and we get as far as placing you on medication, and then you spiral again because you stop taking them—”
“I’m back here,” she breathed out.
“Yes.”
“This is no life.” Her head shook and despite myself, I moved in closer.
“Wrong. This could be an amazing life if you allow yourself to look past the beginning. Think about the outcome, not the trials. You have to have dreams. Are they not worth fighting for?”
Was a possibility of an us not worth fighting for? Worth exploring?
Something sparked on Lydia’s face while she glanced between me and the gun. With the way she was angled, it was almost impossible for me to get a read on what she could possibly be thinking.
“There are a lot of things worth fighting for. For instance, I’ve been fighting for this moment for as long as I can remember, and yet here I am, contemplating whether or not I can splatter
my brains all over your floor. It’s not that I can’t or that I don’t want to. It’s you.” She glanced up, angrily. “Even if I wanted to, I can’t put you through seeing something like that. Not again. You may have witnessed it numerous times, but you won’t with me.” She paused. “I want to be alone.”
My head shook in a slow rhythm brought on by a cocktail of sickening grief and disappointment. Of course she hadn’t changed her mind in the slightest because of my constant existence in her life now. Lydia just wanted to spare me the graphic nature of her demise.
“How considerate of you, but I’m afraid that’s not how this works. You have to do it in front of me. It’s part of the price of your death.”
“But at what price to you?”
I couldn’t help but narrow my stare at the concern covering her face. No one had worried about the effects their suicide would have on me. Most didn’t hesitate to try to go through with their deaths. Sure, they didn’t know it was a test, but they didn’t care. Lydia did. So much so that she’d prolong the one thing she wanted until she reached a comfort level that allowed her to follow through. It was beyond worrying. Even if she did finish out weeks of tests and therapy, who was to say the actions weren’t staged? That she wouldn’t undergo all of it to make everyone happy, and then kill herself when she was finally free and alone?
“I don’t care about me. I want to be supportive of your decision the entire length of your journey. I’m meant to offer comfort in your darkest hour, but …” Uneasiness fluttered throughout and I exhaled deeply, stepping back. This was the only way to know for sure. She wouldn’t be true to her desires if I didn’t give her the space. I wasn’t supposed to, but Lydia wasn’t like the others. “You wish to do this on your own?”
She nodded, blinking rapidly through whatever she was thinking. “I need some time. Master … I—just go.” She turned, putting her back to me. Leaving was almost impossible. My feet didn’t want to move and anger was growing as the pain became almost unbearable. I was failing. I would fail in saving her. Jesus, what the fuck was I going to do to change her mind? To show her that life could be better if she’d only get the help she needed?
Insufferable: A Dark Erotic Romance Page 12
