“I knew you would come,” Hannah sobbed. “Please, I’ll do anything, I promise. Don’t let her in. She wants to kill me.”
Just then, Willow started pounding on the door and screamed, “HAN-NAH! Please just open the door!”
Hannah buried her face in Kate’s dress and started trembling so hard she nearly brought them both to the ground.
“Hannah, no one wants to hurt you,” Kate whispered.
“Please don’t open the door,” Hannah cried. “If she sees this, she will kill me. I promised not to do it again, but I couldn’t stop myself. Make her go away.”
“Hannah…” Kate faltered, not certain how to reason with someone who had clearly lost her mind. “Sam and Willow are out there, and they are here to help you.”
“New mommy is with them. She has been out there all night,” Hannah denied.
“No,” Kate insisted. “It’s just Sam and Willow.”
“She can’t see me like this. She will kill me,” Hannah declared.
Kate silently thought that it wouldn’t be a good idea for anyone to see her like this—especially Sam and Willow. Hannah was almost as unrecognizable as her room. Smeared with filth, several long chunks of her hair were missing as well. Kate could only assume she had been trying to cut out the excrement.
“I’ll help you clean up. Then we will go outside and you can see for yourself that is it only Sam and Willow,” Kate offered.
When Hannah released her tight hold around Kate’s waist, she noticed a pistol dangling loosely between her fingers. Growing instantly afraid, Kate tried to remain calm, “But first you need to put the gun down.”
“If she comes in…” Hannah rushed.
“If she comes in, I won’t let her hurt you,” Kate promised.
Hannah wordlessly nodded and placed the gun beside her knee, but the pounding started again. She started to reach for it, but Kate leaned down and grabbed her hand. “Just ignore it—I’ll tell them to go away. Stay right here.”
Walking determinedly towards the door, Kate called out through the closed door, “Sam.”
“Kate?” Sam answered, sounding baffled.
“Sam, I’m in here with Hannah. We will be out in a few minutes.”
“Kate, open this door,” Sam demanded.
“Ma’am, are you all right? Is she holding you hostage?” a strange voice called out.
“I’m fine,” Kate answered. “I’m here on my own accord.”
“Kate, how did you get in there?” Sam questioned heatedly.
“Ma’am, I need you to open the door. This is potentially a very dangerous situation. There were reports of shots fired. Is she holding the weapon?” the police officer questioned.
“No,” Kate answered and then bit her lip. Lying to the police was a serious offense, but if Kate told the truth, Hannah could get arrested and the whole thing could be dragged out in the courts for months. She really didn’t want to start her marriage by starring on Court TV. Besides, Hannah hadn’t actually been shooting at them, but instead was trying to kill her mother that had been dead for over a decade. Clearly, she was a little confused. “I don’t see any weapons, but several large pieces of furniture have been upended. Maybe that is what they heard? If you give me just a few more minutes alone with her, she promised to come out on her own.”
While the officers chatted among themselves, Kate called out, “Sam, I need you to find me some clean clothes.”
“For Hannah?” he asked.
“For both of us actually,” Kate answered.
“Kate, what in the hell are you doing in there?” Sam groaned.
“I was trying to save our reception,” Kate snapped. “And Sam,” she whispered quietly, “you need to find a hospital for Hannah. Maybe something long-term?”
“Jesus Christ,” Sam grumbled.
On their way to the bathroom, Kate used one of Hannah’s discarded shirts and picked up the pistol. She placed it inside the top drawer of the medicine cabinet. If the police officers wanted to be thorough, they would find it. And if they wanted to be all official and send it off to ballistics, they could prove that it had been fired, but at least she had done what she could to avoid making an ugly situation even nastier.
While Kate was helping Hannah undress, she tried to remain discreet, but there were certain truths about her that were quite shocking. The very last thing she expected to see in between Hannah’s legs was that. Kate’s eyes quickly flew up to Hannah’s face—where they remained.
Obviously, Kate had bigger, more important things to consider than Hannah’s cock, but she couldn’t help but wonder—why hadn’t Sam ever told her? He knew she had always been a little insecure about their relationship. Yet, instead of telling her the truth, he always insisted they were only friends. Obviously, he hadn’t been lying about that. Sam was many things, he was no doubt the kinkiest person she had ever known, but he wasn’t gay. In fact, he very well might be the straightest transvestite that ever walked the face of this earth. Why hadn’t he just said, ‘No, I’m not nor ever have been attracted to Hannah because she is a…’ Well—Kate wasn’t entirely certain what Hannah was, but whatever she was, she wasn’t Sam’s type.
That simple conversation would have alleviated months of needless anxiety. So, why hadn’t he told her the truth, unless he didn’t know? It would have to wait for another day. She had already burst one too many of his bubbles today. Yes, some people do wait to have sex until they are married, and your best friend is a man…or something very close.
Hannah stood trembling, helpless under the warm spray. In her current state of mind, she couldn’t seem to comprehend even the simplest of directions, so Kate had to do most of the actual washing. Once the filth was removed from her hair and skin, Kate used a small brush to work on the caked-on smears trapped under her nail beds.
After several minutes, she looked somewhat more presentable. Kate helped her dry off with a fresh towel she found in the linen closet. Wrapping the towel around Hannah, Kate told her sit on the toilet while she looked for a hairbrush. Kate tried to be gentle as she combed through the tangled mess, but soon realized that nothing she could do would make it look decent. There were just too many uneven sections and missing chunks.
Kate stepped back and said, “Hannah, I need to cut your hair.”
Hannah reached up anxiously. “Mommy likes it long,” she whimpered.
“Your mother will never hurt you again. I promise,” Kate answered.
Hannah nodded wordlessly and returned her fixed gaze towards the door. Watching and listening so intently, she appeared to be both defenseless yet ready to strike at a moment’s notice.
While Kate worked on Hannah’s hair, she wished Sam could be in here to help but that was impossible. For starters, there was no telling how Hannah might react if he stepped inside the domain of her private hell. Secondly, Sam wasn’t emotionally equipped to handle seeing the deterioration, the downfall.
All Kate’s knowledge of human psychology came secondhand by way of her various counseling sessions and therapists, but at least she had a reference point. She could see the reason behind the madness. For that reason alone, she, the person who undoubtedly cared the least, was the best person to handle the situation. Probably not the best hairstylist in the joint, but Kate felt reasonably confident that she could convince Hannah to open the door without her causing bodily injury to anybody nearby.
Hannah waited in the bathroom while Kate retrieved the clean clothes. Using her body to block the room’s interior, she took the garments from Sam’s hands without a word and then closed the door behind her.
Finally, Hannah was ready to leave. Although she wasn’t kicking and screaming, Kate did have to practically drag her across the room. When Kate opened the door, only Sam and Willow stood on the other side. The armed police officers remained out of sight further down the hall. Yet instead of looking relieved, Hannah appeared to be more confused and troubled than before. For several long moments, she stared blankly at Willo
w and then finally whispered, “You sound so much like her.”
“Who?” Willow questioned frantically. “Who do I sound like, Hannah?”
Hannah stroked her freshly trimmed hair self-consciously. “I should go now. I have things I have to do.”
Willow fought back the tears until Hannah was situated inside the ambulance. Everything about her was so changed—the way she walked, the way she sounded, even the light in her eyes had been snuffed. Having spent the last few hours not knowing whether she was dead or alive, Willow had been more than relieved when she finally opened the door, but now Willow wasn’t so certain. Perhaps she hadn’t killed herself, but some part of her was missing. Why hadn’t she stayed last night? Willow had cursed herself over and over all day long. Why hadn’t she told her she loved her before it was too late?
Willow followed Sam and Kate back inside the house. Sam had to deal with the police and various emergency workers that were scattered throughout the house. He moved swiftly, seemingly unaware of her presence.
“Where are you taking her?” Willow questioned.
Sam spun around on his heels and eyed her with a deadly heat. “You don’t need to worry about that,” he grunted.
“Sam, I want to help,” Willow pleaded.
“Want to help?” Sam mocked sarcastically. “Where was your fucking generous spirit last night? She reached out for help, and you had goddamn better things to do. So, why don’t you just go do them?”
“I’m a part of her life too!” Willow shouted defiantly.
Kate looked on powerlessly as the switch inside Sam flipped. It wasn’t so much his stance, but his entire essence transformed. It was about to get ugly, very ugly. As much as she loved him, there was very little she could do when he got like this. In fact, the only person who could handle Sam at his very worst was on her way to the psyche ward.
“Sam, please,” Kate whispered.
“NO!” Sam suddenly roared. “I won’t fucking stay quiet, Kate! I’ve been saying this would happen for weeks!” He turned back around towards Willow. He had only ever hit one woman in his entire life, and that was because she had been kicking his ass at the time, but damn if Willow wouldn’t make the perfect number two.
“You are nothing but a gold-digging whore! You have no part in Hannah’s life! The only thing you care about is your fucking reference. Well, here—give this to the dean…” Sam paused as he began rummaging through the cabinets and drawers until he found a piece of paper and a pen. He hurriedly scrawled his two-word reference, crumbled the paper into a ball, and then walked back over and tossed it in Willow’s face.
Willow opened the note and read Sam’s message—FUCK YOU!
“And tell the dean he can suck my cock while you’re at it!” Sam shouted.
“You can’t do this,” Willow cried out. She didn’t give a damn about his ridiculous reference. Right now, the very last thing on her mind was school. She was solely focused on Hannah and seeing her get healthy again, and Willow somehow knew it wouldn’t happen if she were shut out of her life.
“Just watch me, bitch,” Sam yelled.
“Willow, you should go,” Kate declared firmly. Once Sam had his back turned, she silently mouthed, “I’m sorry.”
Chapter 20
Unfortunately, expediency overrode discretion. Considering Sam had bailed when Kate had very nearly died, bailed on their wedding, and bailed on the reception too, he was certain that if he missed the honeymoon, there wouldn’t be a marriage to come back to. And if that happened, he was going to have to check himself in alongside Hannah in the psyche ward. They could be roomies. It would be a blast.
Even if he had all the time in the world, he couldn’t keep the story from breaking. His lawyers, who in conjunction with Hannah’s publicist, one of the best in the industry, had been working around the clock, but they couldn’t prevent the media firestorm. It wasn’t just a breakdown; it was the breakdown—a decade long in the making, and Sam had been there from the very start.
When Hannah first left for New York all those years ago, he had had mixed emotions. Obviously, he was happy that she had escaped. From what, he was never entirely certain, as she had carefully guarded the secrets of what occurred behind the closed doors of the house of horrors. Even as a young child, Sam knew that whatever happened inside that dungeon she called home wasn’t good, wasn’t right.
It was only after she had left that he began to realize how much he had depended upon her. Back then, Sam had been caught up in a tailwind of addiction. He approached his drug use like he did most things in his life—with exuberance and enthusiasm. After all, he didn’t need to worry because Hannah was his safety net. No matter how trashed he got, she would always find him, take him home, get him to bed, and on most nights, have his homework completed and waiting on his bedside table.
Then she was gone. The first morning he woke up inside a stranger’s pool house had terrified him. It happened just a few weeks before the summer of his seventeenth year. A few days later, he received a package from New York—inside was the magazine with Hannah’s first cover shot. The funny thing was that he had actually seen that same magazine several times hanging on the front rack of a convenient store he frequented, and he had no idea that it was her. The transformation was nothing short of miraculous.
Two weeks later, her parents were murdered, and Hannah finally came home. Although, she had no intention of staying or ever coming back again. Before she returned to New York, she invited Sam to stay with her for the summer. His father had done his best, but even he was at his wit’s end where his only child was concerned. Besides, Hannah was his only friend that his father actually trusted. So, it ended up being the summer Sam did New York, half the females living there, and God only knows how many tourists.
It was also the summer he got to witness Hannah walk the runway. The glossy magazine covers barely did her justice. There was something about her live and in person that filled the air with anticipation. Seeing it through his drug-induced haze, Sam felt the buzzing energy she inspired in the crowd. It was such a strange moment to witness—the razor-sharp edge where an ordinary person turns into a legend. The public had found one to keep, one to never let go, one to adore.
Then, seemingly out of nowhere, Hannah exploded. The litany of curses was enough to make a sailor blush. Sam thought to himself, Well, there went that career. It was nice while it lasted. But strangely enough, her fame skyrocketed. As best as he could figure, the general consensus was if they couldn’t love her then they could damn sure hate her. Overnight, Hannah became everyone favorite person to love to hate.
Later, after they returned to her apartment, Sam asked what had set her off and Hannah had said that one of the photographers had said something nasty. Normally, she didn’t mind their crude commentary, but it pissed her off because he was in the audience.
Considering she had discovered him countless times in various states of undress with numerous women, Sam didn’t understand why one little proposition would make her go insane. There was a lot about Hannah that he didn’t understand, but back then, he was too damn selfish to care.
At the end of the summer, they had their first major fight. Over the years, they had had spats and squabbles but nothing compared to that night when Sam told her he wasn’t going home. Hannah had been furious. She screamed and raged that he had no direction, no aim, and was throwing his life away.
When the plane landed in Austin, Sam had a broken nose, two black eyes, and Hannah by his side. She even had to re-enroll and finish her senior year in high school because he refused to go if she didn’t. Back then, pretty much everyone assumed they were a couple, but nothing could have been further from the truth. The truth was that Sam did not intend to give up the cocaine—nor was he suicidal. He needed Hannah to keep him alive. She was the only one he would listen to, the only one who would tell him when enough was enough, the only one who kept him from falling over the edge. The problem was that the drugs hadn’t just stunted his emotion
al growth; he had actually reverted and had the mentality of a four-year-old.
He did eventually stop using coke when his father became ill. Sam spent the last few months of his father’s life taking care of him, and while Sam took care of him, Hannah was right by his side taking care of him. When Sam expressed an interest in photography, Hannah had been the one who had found his studio and helped build his clientele.
By the time Sam met Kate, he had only gained a few points on the emotional I.Q. scale. Although chronologically he was four years old than she, they met more at a seventh-grade boy and senior prom queen level. He had had such an intense crush on her those first few months. He couldn’t remember exactly when he realized it wasn’t just a crush and that he had fallen in love with her, but it was early in their relationship. Probably because she saw him differently than anyone else ever had.
Sam had always preferred the shallow end of the pool. Whenever anything got too deep, he was the first one to get out of the water. He was a good-time friend. He was the kind of guy that people asked about the right shade of mascara, the best designer for their body type, but deep, meaningful conversations about the mysteries of life and love, not so much. Except, someone forgot to tell Kate. Once he was certain it was love, Sam realized that it was time to put on his big-girl panties and get his shit together. He couldn’t let Kate know that he still ran to Hannah with every little issue. How pathetic would that be?
Still being new to this grown-up business, he felt horribly inadequate, and was sure he was the least-qualified person for the task at hand. He was torn between two women—one was his future and the other was his past, the woman who had always taken care of him. All of this was caused by another woman, Willow Mallory.
He despised that bitch. Time might have been his curse, but it certainly played in her favor. If he had all the time in world, he wouldn’t just ruin her—he would destroy her until she cowered down on her hands and knees and crawled her despicable way out of the state. Unfortunately, there was no time for revenge, but before he left with Kate on their honeymoon, he had to be certain they would never hear from her again. That was why he asked her to meet him for lunch, although he knew neither of them would be eating anything.
Crazy Bitch (Bitches and Queens) Page 13
