by K. Webster
The heat is my salvation.
I will burn away the blood.
Stepping into the shower, I wince as the water scorches my flesh. I cry out and slam my fists into the tile. Pain explodes all over my knuckles and I gape in horror to see blood streaming from them.
Her blood.
Her blood.
Her motherfucking blood!
Snatching up a rag, I start scrubbing at my knuckles. I must wash every trace of her from my flesh. It stings and the blood only seems to run heavier.
I scrub and scrub and scrub.
Until…
A crash startles me.
“Warren.” A deep voice.
I blink and shiver. The scalding water has somehow turned to ice. I’m confused and disoriented. I could swear it was just hot.
“Time to get out, son.”
My dad.
I turn to the voice and shudder. My body aches and my heart feels empty. I’m missing a part of it. I start to claw at my chest in an effort to piece it back together when Dad grabs hold of my jaw. I’ve barely had time to process that he’s touching me and to fight him off when he shoves something down my throat.
“D-D-Dad,” I choke out, gagging on the acrid taste of the pill. “What’s happening to me?”
“You’re just having a panic attack. I gave you something to calm down. Get back into bed and sleep.” His voice is calm and soothes my pounding heart as he wraps a towel around my shoulders.
But the ache in my chest…
It’s unbearable.
“Dad, it hurts,” I tell him, a sob hanging in my throat. “Something’s gone.”
His eyes search mine and he nods. “Baylee’s safe. Go to sleep and I’ll have her visit you when you’re feeling better.”
Baylee. Blue eyes. Blonde hair. Breathtaking smile. An angel.
Nodding, I stumble over to my bed and climb in under the covers. It’s warm and smells good. Like her. Like the missing piece of my heart.
She’s safe, he’d said.
I let out a sigh of relief and with it hope to push the confusion out, too. Three long breaths later and I’m losing my hold on consciousness.
The pounding in my head is intense. And the sun shining in on me is practically blinding me. I squint and try to recall the night before.
Why the fuck do I feel like death warmed over?
Why do my muscles ache as if I ran a fucking marathon?
And why in the hell do I feel like I could sleep for a week?
I sit up and take in my surroundings. The bathroom door is wide open with the light on. A towel is on the floor halfway between here and the bed. And voices.
A rich, deep, loving one.
A sweet, soft, beautiful one.
I love these voices and want to hear more of them. As if on cue, I hear heavy footsteps thundering my way. When they stop, Dad stands in the doorway. He’s dressed casual today in a pair of jeans and T-shirt. His hair is messy and he has dark circles under his eyes.
“Hey, Dad. What’re you doing here?”
He frowns and casts a glance over his shoulder before stepping over to the bed. “You had another delusional episode. I’m here to make sure you don’t hurt yourself and…”
I squint at him, not understanding his words.
“Baylee. I don’t want you to hurt Baylee either.”
My heart flutters to life and begins galloping out the door past him. “I need to see her.” I’m already stumbling out of bed and heading my naked ass to my closet. He starts making my bed knowing I won’t leave this room until it’s done.
“Warren, do you remember much from last night?”
I remember dinner. I remember the dress. Baylee’s amazing fucking body. I remember making love to her and holding her tight. It was heaven.
“We made love,” I admit as I dress.
He remains silent until I come out. I button my shirt and regard him with a raised brow.
“What, Dad? You said to wait until she was eighteen. She’s eighteen now. And,” I say almost shyly, “I think I love her.”
His gaze falls to the floor and he clenches his jaw. “Do you remember hurting her?”
I gape at him. “What?”
“Last night,” he reveals, “you became severely paranoid and delusional. You struck her, Warren. And then you shoved her.”
The blood drains from my head and dizziness washes over me. “N-No. You’re mistaken. I would never hurt her.”
He walks over to me and frowns. “Son, she’s bruised on her arm and winces when she walks. She’s trying to play it off but she’s hurt. Whatever you did to her, hurt her.”
I struck my Baylee.
The woman I made love to not once but three times.
This can’t be.
“I need to see her,” I snap and storm barefoot down the hallway. When I reach the living room, she’s curled up on the couch sipping coffee. Her eyes are red and she looks like she’s been crying. The devastated look she regards me with crushes my soul.
“Baylee.” I stalk over to her but stop just before I reach her. I want to touch her and hold her and kiss her. But as I reach my hand toward her, I know I won’t be able to. “I’m so sorry. What have I done?”
Tears well in her eyes and she looks past me to my dad. “Are you hungry?”
Her weak attempt to change the subject unnerves me. Of course I’m not fucking hungry. I’m worried sick that I abused the only woman who heals me.
“No. Jesus, Bay. What happened? Whatever it is, I am so sorry.”
A tear trickles down her cheek and she nods. “I know. I’m not upset with you, War. You weren’t really yourself.”
Running my fingers through my hair, I suppress a rage-filled scream. “Are you afraid of me?” If she is, I’ll pack her bag now and send her back home to the safety of her parents.
She shakes her head and the tears continue to spill. “I’m afraid for you. Things were perfect and then…” she trails off and lets out a ragged sigh, “you were gone.”
I clamp my eyes closed and try to remember what happened.
Flashbacks of my dream of Mom and Constance.
Flashbacks of the scalding shower.
Of Baylee trying to help me. I did hit her. I did push her away from me. I’m worse than Gabe. I’m the rotten filth of the earth. I am sick and undeserving of someone as perfect as her.
All it would take was one bullet.
That’s all it took for Mom.
No pain of having miscarried. No depression and grief at having lost a child. Nothing.
Click and boom.
Her life ended and she was nothing but sticky blood painted on my shirt.
I shudder. Could I do that to my father again? Spray my brain all over the walls and leave him to clean it up. What would that do to Baylee? Somehow, I don’t think it would make her happy. In fact, I think, perhaps she’d be crushed and ruined. The thought of ruining her steals my breath.
She’s a perfect, pure, sweet smelling gardenia.
And all I do is crush her in my fist.
“Warren, I’m hungry.”
Her voice snaps me from my dark thoughts and I stare at her. She’s standing now and the sun surrounds her from the windows giving her an angelic aura. Such a vision.
“I’m hungry for pizza,” she says in a firm tone. “And either you can make me some of your vegan crap or I’ll call Pizza Palace. Since it’s my birthday, I think you owe me.” Her lips curve up into a sweet smile and I can’t help but reciprocate.
Of course I’ll cook her something.
I’ll give her anything she wants.
I LIFT MY hand from the warm water and sigh. Today started off terribly but it ended well. When War woke up in the wee hours of the morning flipping out, I hadn’t known what to do. His eyes were crazed and he spoke like a madman. All I wanted was to calm him.
But he was far from calm.
He’d hit me when I tried to turn the water cooler but it didn’t deter me, despite t
he strength with which he’d struck. Now I’m sporting a big purple bruise. When he shoved me though, I was frightened. I’d landed hard on my butt and my breath was knocked from me. All I could think was to call Land and get his help. Turns out, he lives less than five minutes away, and was here before I could formulate what to do next. I was thankful when he’d gone in there, forced War to take a Xanax, and then put him to bed.
Land makes me feel safe. Not that I’m afraid of War. I’m afraid of that monster that lives inside of War’s head. A monster that I don’t really know or understand but would be glad to murder any day of the week. War is a victim of that beast which only managed to stay away for a little while before he came raging back with claws bared and a thirst for blood.
This is normal.
This is who he is.
This is War.
Land’s words keep replaying over and over in my head. I selfishly wish I could fix my War. Help him heal and become human again.
This afternoon, he’d returned mostly to his normal self. He obsessed over the homemade pizza and even threw a conniption when Edison showed up with a store-bought chocolate cake. But, to make me happy, he suffered through and watched with a frown as I ate it up. It wasn’t until I licked my lips and flashed him a seductive grin that he seemed to relax about the cake.
I’d actually enjoyed spending my birthday with War, Land, and Edison. It made me miss Mom and Dad more but Dad still won’t respond to my e-mails. To say I’m hurt is an understatement.
The alarm sounds as it activates and I sigh. Land and Edison must have gone for the evening. That leaves me alone with War and I’m not sure how things are with us. I’d like to think that we could forget about his episode last night but I can’t be certain. All I know is that I miss him.
I hear a timid knock followed by the sound of his voice. “Baylee? Can I come in?”
I shiver and turn to see his powerful presence standing in the doorway. His gaze falls to the water where my naked body is hidden beneath a sea of foamy bubbles and I can’t help but smile. I like that he’s distracted by thoughts of my body.
“Yeah.”
He awkwardly makes his way into the small bathroom and sits on the edge of the tub. His jaw clenches as his eyes drag along my wet flesh. “I’m so sorry.”
I lift my hand from the water and draw hearts in the suds. “What happened?”
A loud sigh escapes him and he pinches the bridge of his nose. “I have a delusional disorder. When my OCD gets severely out of control on occasion, I’m more prone to episodes sparked by paranoia and fear and my haunting past. The crash from the pill and the wine coupled with memories of my mom were too much. I spiraled out of control,” he huffs out and meets me with a serious stare. “If I’d done something to you…”
I shake my head. “Don’t even think about it. Yes, you hurt me. Will I heal? Quickly. But for me to be with you, I need to understand you. I want to help you, War. You have to open up to me.”
His lips press into a firm line. “I know and I’m working on it. I hate not being in control of myself. It’s embarrassing for you to know all the broken, wrong parts of me. I fucking hate the way this shit rules my life.”
I scrunch my brows together and recall some of the things I’d learned while researching his conditions. “You know there are psychotherapies you could try. A therapist could help.”
He grumbles but nods. “I think with time—with you—I could try them again. I want to get better for you, Baylee.”
Sitting up in the water, I watch him as his gaze falls to my breasts. “We’ll get through this. You know that right? I know we’ll find a way to be together.”
A breathtaking smile spreads across his face. The man is handsome and when he smiles, the world tilts on its axis.
“You’re beautiful. And I’m lucky you haven’t run for the hills.”
I laugh and splash at him, loving the now boyish grin I’m met with. “Who says I’m not planning to run tomorrow?” I tease but then regard him seriously. “I’m not going anywhere. I was actually hoping you could make love to me again.” I’m not sure if he’ll take my bait but am thankful when his eyes darken.
“You still want me? Even after…” he trails off, shame morphing his features into a frown.
“I can’t help but want you. I mean look at you,” I tell him playfully, “you’re hot.”
He flashes me a wicked smile that makes its way straight to my core. “You’re an amazing woman, Baylee. Don’t ever think for one second that you’re anything less,” he says softly. “When you get out, I have something for you.”
As soon as he’s gone, I’m already standing in the tub, eager to find out what he wants to give me. His gifts always make me happy. I dress in my robe sans underwear and smile to see him stretched out on my bed.
“That was quick,” he says with a smirk. “You and your love for presents.”
I laugh and bounce on the bed beside him, careful not to touch him. Once I’m settled, he opens his palm up to me. Inside are two rose gold earrings in the shape of a heart with a B inside.
“These are pretty,” I say softly and open my palm to him so he can drop them into my hand.
He flashes me a shy smile as he gives them to me. “That first day when you longingly stared out at the ocean and wrote your initial with a heart around it on the foggy glass, I’d been a little fucked in the head about you marring my clean glass. But then…”
“I don’t even remember doing that. It used to drive Dad crazy when I’d write on the windows of his car but Mom always said they were little Baylee notes left all over, and that he should appreciate them.” My voice wobbles and I choke down the emotion of thinking about her.
“Well, I did appreciate it. For once, I didn’t strive for perfection,” he says, “I wanted something better than perfection. I wanted you.”
“This is so thoughtful. Thank you, War.”
He shrugs. “I took a picture of it so the jeweler would get it exact. It may seem obsessive but I really wanted it—”
“They’re beautiful, War.”
I take my time putting them in each ear and then beam at him.
“Listen, Baylee,” he says slowly and brings his gaze from my ears to my eyes. “I’m not going to take that medicine anymore. The side effects always seem to be worse than the actual problem.”
He’d confessed earlier today to taking Klonopin before the wine, hence the unusual reactions. My heart sinks and I wonder if that night would be the only night we’d ever spend together.
“But, that being said, I can’t stop thinking about you. I can’t stop thinking about the way it felt to be inside of you. To kiss you. To make love to you. Medicine or not. Wine or not. I want to try to be with you again.” He sighs and scrubs his face with his palm. “I can’t promise I’ll never have another episode again, but as long as my mind is clear from the drugs, I vow to never hurt you again. I may not be able to touch you, but I won’t ever put my hands on you in anger for as long as you live.”
“You know, those pills are meant to be taken each day and not sporadically. Most have a two week or more loading dose before noticeable changes. I’ve been reading up on ways to help you. You’re not giving your body enough time to adjust to them I’m afraid,” I tell him firmly.
His jaw clenches but he nods. “Maybe we can research it together. I’m willing to try if that’s what you want.”
I nod and will the tears away. I miss the man from last night but I also want the man in this bed with me. “So what now?”
He leans forward and tugs at the rope on my robe. It falls open and reveals my breasts. “We see what happens.”
“See what happens,” I murmur as I slip out of the robe and toss it away.
He climbs off the bed and undresses. I’m in awe of his sheer, masculine beauty. All contours and curves. Beautiful. He strides off and returns with a towel. “I’d feel more comfortable with this underneath us.”
I smile and nod. My eyes neve
r leaving his, I climb onto the bed and lie on his newly situated towel. His entire body trembles as he watches me with both fear and anticipation. The eagerness squashes his apprehension because he slowly slides between my spread legs.
“Focus on me, War. Focus on how good I make you feel. Kiss me. Don’t think, just do.”
He launches himself on me and our lips smash together. I let out a moan that has his erect cock pressing against my belly. Running my fingers up his ribs, I then rake them through his hair.
I need this man. Desperately so.
“Make love to me.”
“God, Bay,” he groans as he positions his cock against my entrance. “I can’t think when I’m with you.”
I cry out when he pushes into me. “Good. Don’t think. Just be with me.”
Our mouths tangle again and he bucks into me over and over again. The slapping of our flesh echoes in my room and with each pound into me, I grow closer to orgasm. My body thrums with desire for him to touch me all over, but right now, I’ll take what I can get. His mouth on mine, his body connected inside of me—it’s enough.
“So perfect,” he chants over and over again.
My body writhes beneath his, growing closer with each breath to an incredible orgasm only he can give me. “I’m close.”
He grunts and his finger finds my throat. His strong hand cradles my neck and he holds me as he loses himself to a body shuddering climax. My name is on his lips—a violent whisper as he releases more of his inner hell by means of pleasure.
The heat that pours into me stings but it signals my own climax. I cry out and give in to the bliss he saturates me with.
This has to be love.
Thirty minutes later, we’re sufficiently cleansed—after an almost too hot shower—and are curled up in his bed this time.
“You’re the sun on the horizon. I ache for you,” he says in a soft, pained voice, his eyes falling to my lips. “I don’t get it, Bay. If I think hard enough about it, I start obsessing over something crazy; tainted meat or airborne bacteria. It consumes me. But all it takes is looking at you and the storms that rage inside of me suddenly dissipate.”
