Mend the Seams (Buried Secrets Book 3)

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Mend the Seams (Buried Secrets Book 3) Page 3

by Silla Webb


  Since rediscovering my love for reading I’ve realized my taste in genres have changed dramatically. I used to enjoy the Classics as well as sweet happily-ever-after romance novels. But I learned the hard way that the concept of a happily-ever-after is absolute bullshit. There’s no knight in shining armor to protect the Queen. No Prince Charming who searches throughout the kingdom for his Princess based on a shoe she left behind at their happenstance tryst. No, that’s all fairy tale bullshit, twisted to make young girls believe in such happiness when it doesn’t even exist. So I’ve taken a more realistic interest in novels, reading dark romance. You see it’s not that I don’t believe in love, because I do, so very much. I just don’t believe that there is such thing as an ever-lasting happiness. Love is real. Love is raw, love is painful. Love can make you feel like the most beautiful flower under the bright morning sun, then strip you of your delicate petals and leaving you to wilt in the cold dark rain. Love can deplete you of every part of who you are, leaving you to be a weak and terrified stranger. Well, love can kiss my ass.

  Okay so back to case in point. You see I have a habit of ramblin’ a bit when I’m nervous, so these days it seems my mouth is never shut. I’m slightly surprised my jaw isn’t sore from my constant chatter. Last night.

  Last night was a very long night. After reading Brailee and Braden a bedtime story, I curled into the ten inch section of mattress they so sweetly decided to share with me in my king size bed and opened a book on my Kindle. I was hoping after a few chapters sleep would carry me away to a peaceful dream. I finished one book, then after reading half way through another I finally fell asleep. I woke up at five am to the annoying sound of a house fly buzzing through the hallway and my Kindle pressed firmly against my cheek. Yeah, by no means should the buzzing of a tiny little fly be loud enough to wake up one person, but I don’t exactly have normal sleep habits. I wake with a start if one of the kids rolls over and the mattress creaks.

  I was really hoping the transition of moving from our family home to my childhood home wouldn’t be so difficult, but so far it has been. Brailee is adjusting just fine, kid acts like she ain’t got a care in the world. I swear she’s so much like Carly Jo, some days it makes me jealous that I don’t have the incredible strength they both share. Braden…well Braden is clinging to me as if it’s his first day of Kindergarten all over again. His sleep is almost as elusive as mine and the nightmares my baby experiences are gut wrenching. He misses Josh terribly and constantly asks to see him and his Uncle Drew. Neither of the kids understand the circumstances that turned their lives upside down, but I’m always honest with them which is the hardest part. They’re still young, and trying to understand that Josh is at fault for the mess our lives have become is hard for them to process.

  I try my very best to smile, to hide the mass of emotions that I battle with each breath. Some days are easier than others, and some…some bring to me my knees and leave me in a heaping pile of heartache.

  After searching out that damn house fly, I check the doors and windows then start a pot of very strong coffee. Being completely honest, I’m exhausted. My brain feels fuzzy and confused, but each time I beg it to shut down and rest, it laughs at me. So here I am up before the chickens with a big ol’ cup of coffee and my Kindle in hand. Now I could have taken this time to work out, clean the bathroom or wash some laundry, but that would have required me to move about the house and that is not happenin’ when it’s dark outside. This house is huge and too spread out for me. Each noise I hear throws me into a state of panic, so during the pitch black hours of night I require utter silence. When the sun peeks through my windows, that’s when the world as I know it awakes – and not a moment sooner.

  I feel like a prisoner in the night, terrified to move about my home. Also worried that I’ll not hear an intruder, although I highly doubt anyone would try to break in. But with the life Josh led, it’s hard to tell the sort of enemies he’s made. So when the bright glistening rays break through the slits of the blinds I grab a throw blanket, a warm cup of coffee, stuff my kindle down in the crook of my arm and set out to the porch to enjoy the beautiful fall morning.

  Opening the front door, I clasp my hand over my mouth to suppress my laughter, but honestly it’s too much. I make my way over to the swing, sitting softly but giggles slip free waking up a sleepy headed Luke.

  We sit on the swing for a short while enjoying the beautiful fall morning together. Luke is obviously concerned about me, and although I’ve asked him for some space while I learn to stand on my own two feet, something draws him to me. I won’t lie and say that finding Luke on my porch swing more often than not is an inconvenience, because let’s face it he’s HOT. But each time I sit down on the swing and he tucks me to his side I get confused. I like to think it’s the lack of sleep that’s causing my brain to be a jumbled up mess, but even with a well-rested mind that man can muddle my thoughts.

  Luke is a difficult man to understand, but there is conviction deeply engrained in his eyes. He’s mysterious and doesn’t ever talk about himself or what pains him. I want to pry, to offer him the strength he continually offers me, but I have no strength to share. So I just thank God that I have a friend to comfort me while I’m dealing with the mess my life has become.

  Chapter Three

  Therapy Session #3

  “Good afternoon, Josh.” Dr. Hampton smiles entering the small, stale office. She takes a seat in the chipped wooden chair positioned by the window, before pulling a legal pad into her lap. Fisting my cuffed hands together, I can feel my jaw tic with impatience. Today is my third session and I’m not too confident in regards to the therapy plan Dr. Hampton has in mind.

  “Today I’d like to discuss your relationship with Savannah. Are you comfortable discussing that?”

  “Do I have a choice?” I deadpan, frustration already crawling along my skin. I’ve always been the strong silent type, preferring to express myself with actions.

  “You always have a choice with what you divulge, Josh. But the more open you are with me, the better I can help you. Shall we begin?” I nod and she clicks her pen open, ready to take notes on whatever statements I make.

  She begins with the basics. How long have Savannah and I been together, where did we meet, what characteristics Savannah had that drew me to her. She wasn’t too happy with where all this was going. Once she realized that I was a pawn in a scheme to embezzle the Simon Empire from Savannah’s family, Dr. Hampton grew very uncomfortable. She scooted closer to the edge of the chair, her eyes intently gazed on me as she listened to the vile details of our plot that fell apart at the seams as soon as I’d realized I’d fallen in love with my target.

  “I realize this is a sensitive subject for you Josh. I’d like for you to elaborate on the abusive nature of your relationship, please.”

  “Elaborate?” My brow quirks up and I can feel the vein that runs along my temple throb with tension.

  “Yes, tell me what prompted you to abuse Savannah. If you loved her, what events took place to cause you to want to do her harm? It’s crucial that you make me understand your feelings towards the abuse.”

  “Love.”

  “Excuse me?” She asks, confusion teasing at her eyes.

  “You said if I loved her. Past tense. I still love Savannah very much so.”

  “I apologize, Josh. It wasn’t intended to upset you. Just a general way of speaking considering the nature of your relationship with Savannah.”

  “Because I hit her.” I state.

  “Well, yes.” She shrugs.

  I think about her question for several seconds before answering. The truth is, some days when I look back over the hell I put Savannah through, the only remorse I feel is for not making good on my promise of leaving her to rot in an abandoned mines. She should have been smart enough not to fall in love with me. Other days the remorse is real and I feel hatred for myself for becoming the monster Drew shaped me to be. How the hell do I explain this to my psychologist? How the
hell do I even put these fucked up emotions to words?

  “Josh, are you alright?” I look up to Dr. Hampton, reading the concerned look on her face.

  “I’m fine. Just lost in thought.”

  “Back to the abuse, Josh. Please, tell me your reasoning.”

  Blowing out a long, frustrated breath I open my mouth to spew verbal vomit. “This is all pretty fucked up, so try to follow closely.” Dr. Hampton nods her head, urging me to begin. “Drew’s plan was simple. Make her fall in love with me and marry her. I was never intended to feel anything for her whatsoever. I fucked up. I was torn between loving her and repaying the debt I owed to my best friend. I’d known Drew much longer, and it only seemed like the right thing to stay loyal to him above all. With all the stress and tension swirlin’ the air with Drew I let the situation get the best of me, and I took my aggressions out on Savannah. Some days, I’d stay out well past midnight only because I’d be so frustrated that I knew if I went home, I’d beat the hell outta her. Other days I just let the anger go, and I didn’t seem to care if she was hurt or worse.”

  “Josh, what do you mean the debt you owed to Drew?”

  My brows scrunch together as my eyes scowl over the small doctor. “Excuse me?”

  “You mentioned being in debt to Drew. Was this debt monetarily, repayment for his loyalty to you?”

  Fuck! This is why I hate talkin’ about this shit. Once the thoughts start to dance about in my head they release on their own volition as my mouth begins to move.

  “Doc, you wanted to know about Savannah. I ain’t in the fuckin’ mood to talk about either one of ‘em, so pick your battles with me. If we’re talkin’ Savannah since that’s the path you started down, fine. If you wanna discuss Drew, fuck off.”

  “Duly noted, Josh. However, you need to understand while we can agree not to discuss Drew at this time, you need to get comfortable with that topic because we will be discussing him in the future.” Her tone is demanding. “Now, please continue.”

  “That’s basically it. Tensions raised, our plan eventually crumbled and before I’d realized it I nearly took her life. Now I’m here in this shit hole.”

  “The day of the accident, what event led you to attack her and Carly so violently?”

  “I had just made bail on the Malicious Criminal Intent charges. When I got home she and Carly were packing hers and the kids’ clothes. I lost it. I refuse to let her go. She’s mine. I promised her attempting to leave me wouldn’t be wise. She’s lucky I stopped when I did.”

  She glares at me curiously and the memory of crashin’ my lips against Savannah’s in a rush of fury filters to mind, and I smirk with complacency. I loved the taste of her fear. It always sent jolts of gratifying electricity through me and before long I realized it wasn’t just a craving to taste her fear, but an addiction. Like crack to a junkie, hearing Savannah plead for mercy, the taste of her warm tears trailing down her soft jaw was the food source to my fury.

  Just as my cock begins to strain against the thin cotton pants, growing hard from the memory of evoking fear in my wife for kicks, Dr. Hampton speaks again interrupting my nearly wet dream. “If you were so intent on doing Savannah harm, what happened in that instance to pause your actions?”

  I scrub my hand roughly down the back of my neck trying to release the sudden tension in my tight muscles. Brailee and Braden are my only constants, the only reason seein’ the broad of daylight again matters. I miss my kids. Their laughs, smiles, and silly morning songs they would sing as they eat their cereal – I miss it all. It’s all a distant memory that I carry with me. I’m sure by now Savannah has filled their heads with lies about the monster that their daddy has become, tryin’ her best to protect them from my evil. But she should know in the depths of her heart that I’d never cause any direct harm to my kids.

  “Josh, are you in there? Josh?” Dr. Hampton calls and my eyes scan up from the floor meeting hers slowly on their ascend.

  I pinch the bridge of my nose while shaking my head to clear the cluster of memories that haunt me. “Yeah, I’m fine.” I mutter quietly. This is why I don’t talk about fuckin’ emotions. Too much shit in the past that can’t be changed, but will haunt me forever.

  “Tell me about the memory that you were lost in, please.”

  “Brailee and Braden – my twins. They’re eight. When I was attacking Savannah I saw their picture on the bookshelf and that was what stopped me in my assault. They’re innocent, just babies and they need their momma to lead them through this ugly world. I knew I wouldn’t be there to raise them, it wouldn’t be fair to them to strip Savannah from their lives as well.”

  She nods, keeping her head cast down as she writes notes on the legal pad in her lap. “You love your children. That much I can see. But your love for Savannah concerns me. When you talk about Savannah it’s as if you are confused by your own thoughts and feelings. Almost as though you want one thing but you know it’s wrong, or you aren’t deserving enough of it. Does any of that make sense?”

  I nod boringly, growing frustrated by discussing this useless shit that will get me nowhere. It’s all in the past. James has already told me the outlook on my case is dim. I didn’t expect anything less.

  “Josh, you’re well aware of the fact that Savannah has filed a Petition for Dissolution of Marriage. That’s what caused our paths to cross. I understand that you are reluctant to let her go in a sense, but I’d like for you to explain why? You know the prison time you are facing. Do you love Savannah so much, or hate her so bad that you want her to endure the same suffering you must endure?”

  “Yes.” I answer calmly, and the fact that I didn’t distinguish which question I was answering wasn’t lost on her. She just sees no need in arguing with my madness apparently.

  Dr. Hampton clicks the pen closed then places the pen and legal pad on the table beside her. “You made good progress today, Josh.” She rolls her eyes up towards me, giving me a cautious glance before continuing, “But I need you to prepare yourself for the next session. I’m very interested in knowing more about Drew Varney and the loyalty behind your friendship. I know Drew is a sensitive subject for you, but that’s why I’m forewarning you now, so you’ll know what to expect when you walk in this room next week.”

  The fluorescent lights overhead flicker and the buzzing of electricity that sings from the fixture grates my nerves. Resting my arms beneath my head, I stare up at the brown stained ceiling, losing myself in thought of my past.

  “Oooh, Joshua,” Mrs. Hager singsongs as she draws the Marlboro Light to her plump red lips, inhaling deeply as her eyes drift closed lustfully. “You were supposed to be here over an hour ago.” She states in a caustic tone, crossing one arm over her ample chest.

  “I’m sorry, Mrs. Hager. Football practice, ya know.” I shrug, motioning to my sweat laden clothes.

  “Hmmm, filthy….just the way I like ‘em. Too bad we don’t have much time to play before Mr. Hager gets home from work.” She coos, smashing the tip of the cigarette into the glass tray on the night stand. She crawls seductively down the length of the bed, then sits back on her haunches and crooks her finger, motioning me toward her.

  My throat bobs with a nervous tension, but I reluctantly take a step forward, then another until I’m standing by the foot of the bed. She hooks her slender fingers into the waist band of my shorts, slipping them down my muscular thighs. She grins in delight when my raging hard on springs free, then immediately takes my cock into her mouth to taste.

  Fisting my fingers into her hair, I pull her closer to me enjoying the sensation having my cock sucked off. It doesn’t take long before my balls tighten and my dick pulsates as I spray hot cum down Mrs. Hager’s throat. She sucks the length of my dick one final time, trailing her shaped nails over my sensitive balls before releasing me from her grasp.

  She grins up at me proudly, wiping the corner of her mouth with the pad of her thumb. She sucks it clean then hops off the bed and struts into the bathroom. I steady
my breath momentarily before pulling my shorts back up over my ass. Sitting down on the edge of the bed I rake my fingers through my hair in frustration. This is fuckin’ sick as hell, yet I’m too weak, too scared to put an end to it all.

  Mrs. Hager trots back into the bedroom and straddles her long, slender legs over my lap, grinding her hot pussy against me. “Elliott will be out of town Saturday. I expect you to be here at six pm sharp. Do you understand?”

  I shake my head on a sigh, and she sits back on my knees, taking in the unsure expression on my face. “What’s that look?” She singsongs again as she tickles her fingers up my chest and I swear I hate the fuckin’ sound of her mousy little voice more and more. Hell, I’m beginning to fuckin’ hate everything about her in general.

  “You’re too demanding.” I mutter, trying my damnedest to hide the break in my voice.

  She jumps off my lap as if flames have crawled up her legs and looks at me offensively. “Demanding?” She questions. “Too demanding?” THWACK. The backside of her left hand crashes against my face and my head whips around with a snap. “You fuckin’ ungrateful little prick. I suck your dick dry, and you seriously have the balls to tell me I’m too demanding? A little high on our horse, now are we, Joshua?” She stares at me with dark, evil eyes as I rub my hand against my cheek. “Let me explain to you how this works. I’m your master. You will do whatever I wish, and when I feel as if you’re deserving of it, I’ll treat you just as I did today. But since you’re unappreciative to my overly generous affection, I can promise you it will be a very long while before I treat you again.

  “Evelyn, it’s fuckin’ wrong. I’m fifteen. I swear to God if my mom found out the shit I was into with you, her best friend, she’d kill us both.” I huff out, trying to welcome the anger that’s boiling up in my stomach, but this woman has some sick twisted hold over me that I can’t quite explain.

 

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