by Alisha Cole
“I know. It’s okay. I believe you. I will keep myself busy. I’m good. You seem like you’re more worried than I am.” Smiling, she grips my hand.
When we arrive at her house, I walk her in. She is no longer moping around, which is good. I give her a kiss, reassuring her I’ll be back, and leave.
My drive home is nothing but nagging remembrance of the past and of the abuse I have inflicted on others throughout the years. All of them leading up to my main target: Laney. The truth hurts, but sometimes it’s more than pain. Sometimes you’re born with a broken soul—pain is easy when that’s all you know. That is all I know. I watched my family die right in front of me when I was ten. I watched the life get choked out of my mother, my father’s brains splatter across the living room wall, and my ten-month-old baby sister being drowned in the kitchen sink. There was a serial killer on the loose, Dad said not to worry, that it was going on up in the city. We all believed him. I mean, he was our dad, our protector. An hour later my life was changed with the ring of the doorbell. A masked man walked through the door first. Following behind him were three more hooded ones. It all happened extremely fast. Each man-handled one of us. I was held and forced to watch them take the life of each person I loved. From there on out, I have been another person. Well… only sometimes.
I went to foster care, was moved from home to home repeatedly for messing with girls who wanted nothing to do with me. I grew fond of certain things. Losing my virginity to my last foster mother was one of them. She was younger, early thirties. She was one of those mom types who fostered for the check every month, taking in the older bunch that would soon turn eighteen and be off into the real world. I was seventeen going on eighteen and getting ready to graduate high school. I was kind of heavier back then, excellent in school—a nerd is what I was teased with. I was two weeks from getting my diploma and I went into my foster mom’s room. Her name really isn’t important. I walked in just as she walked out of the shower. Her first reaction was to scream, but I hushed her as I moved closer. Her body responded like mine did and it just happened. Do I regret it? No. I went to her room in hopes that I could sway her into doing exactly that. I slept with her every day until I left for college. She didn’t want me to go, she said she was in love with me. I didn’t see her like that. She was really upset about it which led to her cleaning out the bank and leaving all her foster kids behind. She has yet to be found.
In college, I was looking for a fresh start. I tried to find a girl to settle down with, but I was met with nothing but failure. I grew tired of being turned down by every female I talked to. It would take weeks, even months, to work up the courage to talk to one and every single one would shoot me down. Yes, I was different, I was weird and ugly. But that shouldn’t be a reason to treat me like they all did. I grew a complex and started to hate women like them.
My phone rings, thoughts from my past vanishing as I slide the green phone across the screen.
“You can head home for a few; I am coming home. I will text you when I’m done,” I say, hanging it up before I get a response back.
I reach the beginning of my road and pass Jake as he flips me off wearing a devilish smile. Jake Thomas, the rock star, is my childhood best friend. If you haven’t figured it out, I already knew about everything that has happened with Laney. I am part of it, a part of everything. I am the reason she tosses and turns at night. The reason she wakes up with tears streaming down her clammy, pale face and screaming for help. I am her nightmare. It’s quite beautiful to know that you can break someone down to such a point that they don’t realize they’re drawn to the monster who did it. A part of me is in love with her, but the other part wants to destroy her and everything she is just so I can fix it. Coming home saves her from the pain, saves her from living it again. Lindsay is saving her; she was always meant to.
Once I get inside it’s eerily quiet. I hate silence—it gives the voices leeway to speak freely in my head. I turn on the radio, switching it to the highest number on the knob. Opening the basement door, I head down the stairs to do what I came here for.
Lindsay leans against the white beam, hands chained behind her back. With her head down, her black roots peek out of her blush-colored hair. Her clothes have been removed, her ribs piercing through her cadaverous skin. Looking at her should make me feel ashamed. That’s far from what I feel, though. The emotions inside awaken when she lifts her head. Her panic-filled eyes register my presence, stirring my excitement.
“James, please tell me this is a joke. Please tell me you’re here to save me,” she says, breathless as her eyes roll closed then open again. “James! Answer me!”
She doesn’t know what’s going on—she has been locked in my basement for months, injected with enough dope to be considered a dope whore. I never thought it would come to this. I thought once I saved Laney that I would be normal, that I could get the voices to stop. They will never stop. I tell myself that just one time will curb the hunger, stop the urges long enough, and just maybe I can live a normal life. Lindsay is saving me, Laney, and any other woman who has ever crossed my path.
“I wish I could tell you I am a hero. I wish I could be that guy, but I’m not. Not yet. Everything is my fault. Everything Laney and you have been through is because of me. Let me tell you why,” I tell her as I grab a handful of her hair, gently tilting her head back.
“Tell me! Tell me why you’re doing this. What can I do to fix it? I wanna go home!” she cries. The bitterness of her tone shows that she can still feel and she is pissed. Verifying my thoughts, she spits in my face.
“I can’t save you yet, you’re not ready. You know too much, you still feel, you cry and scream,” I speak to her softly. “I won’t hurt you. I’m not like them; I am worse. I will watch as each one of them break you, and when it’s over… I can save you, and set you free from all of it. Then I can be your hero.” Jerking her head from my grip, she lets out a low growl.
“You are psycho! Why won’t you just let me go? This isn’t saving me. You can’t break something that’s already broken! You raped Laney too, didn’t you?” She’s right, I can’t. Talking to her isn’t helping so I try to dig deeper.
“I didn’t rape Laney, I fixed her. I am falling in love with her, and you’re just standing in the way now. I can’t help save you if you won’t cooperate.” She doesn’t understand—I just want to save her from being a victim, save her from living with the regret of not being able to save her parents or herself.
“What are you talking about? You aren’t saving me. You can’t love Laney, either! You just sat back while your disgusting friends took advantage of her! I am not standing in the way of anything. You brought me here and expect me to listen to you when they are trying to kill me. I think you’re taking your job a little too far.”
“You’re here because you’re traumatized.” I am not getting through to her, and I am starting to lose faith that it will happen today.
“I’m here because you wanted to watch people starve me, rape me, and kill me! You’re fucking insane, James! Nothing you say is going to save me from anything! I may be traumatized now, but that’s because of you!” I give up on breaking through her barrier today and call Brad for his turn. I leave her screaming my name in the basement. When she is completely unfixable that’s when I will get through. Just like Laney, she won’t remember me, but she will recover. I will be her hero and she will thank me one day.
I wasn’t in the basement long enough to go back to Laney’s, so I decide to take a shower to relieve my aggravation. Once in the bathroom, I start the shower. Wasting no time, I jump in letting the bitter water hit my bare back. Our conversation replays over and over in flashes. She called me insane. I know something is wrong with me, I know what fixes it, and helping people recover from their gruesome pasts is what works. I hop out of the shower, get dressed, and leave to stop by my real office before heading back.
I arrive at the office, say hello to Eleanor, my secretary, and head back to my of
fice. I have a seat at my desk and start to look through the mile-high stack of papers. I pick up the first document, the file reads Tonya. Tonya is a crazy cat lady that believes all fifty of her cats have souls of humans. To sum it up, she means they all have different personalities and talk to her daily. I shake my head; I don’t have time to deal with her this week. My next file is named Beth—she was the driver of a car that plowed down her best friend. This strikes my interest. Reading a little farther, it seems she was driving drunk. Oh, that explains why she tried to hang herself unsuccessfully. I place her file in the Can-Do pile. I explore through a few more and then turn on my computer. I think with all the stress going on that maybe a vacation is what I need. Better yet, what Laney and I need.
I start looking up different tourist locations that are close to home, while still beautiful and peaceful. When I think beautiful, the first place I think of is the Poconos. Pennsylvania is filled with the most beautiful mountains, lakes, and trails. I don’t think twice before I book it for the holiday coming. This will give us time to reconnect, without all the bullshit nightmares and voices. Shutting down the computer, I grab my cell out of my jacket pocket and shoot Laney a text letting her know I will be home soon, but that I have to stop by the store first.
I grab what I need from the store: a couple of tilapia fillets, broccoli, and an angel hair pasta bag mix. I pull in her driveway, noticing it is really dark inside. Strange, I told her I was on my way. I reach the front door and walk into dim lighting. Laney stands there with the sexiest red lingerie on and heels with a smile on her face. The grocery bags are dismissed automatically. Her transparent stockings show off her sensuous, smooth legs. Rolling my eyes up her body in the slowest motion possible, I take in how her garter belt rests with ease on her full curvy hips. The light creases of her toned stomach make me harder than I ever thought possible. The way her tits are pushed up in her tight-fitted bra has me imagining how her nipples stay put. There is nothing but her on my mind. She makes me feel normal, makes me want for her and her only. When I stalk toward her, her smile only gets bigger.
“You look…edible right now. Dessert before dinner?” I ask as my hands make contact with her waist. Extending her hand up behind her back, her smile turns from sexy sweet to hellish goddess. Her bra falls with ease, her breasts releasing and spilling over. I feel my insides tighten. She doesn’t want it slow and easy. No, tonight she is taking control. She turns around giving me a glimpse of her perfect-in-every-single-way ass. Leading me to the couch, she takes one finger and pushes me into my place. My dick is stirring in my pants. If she doesn’t make a move soon, she’s gonna lose any control I have given her in this moment. As if she reads my mind, she drops to her knees, nonchalantly caressing from my thighs to my knees then back again. Lazily, she reaches to unbutton my pants. I can feel the pre-cum on the tip of my cock when she reaches in, stroking once with a firm grip.
After she achieves a growl from me, she starts to slide my pants off. I lift up to help give her the room she needs to get them to my ankles. Then her mouth is on me, diving in as deep as her throat will allow her before coming back up. Being in her mouth is like a drug, and I’m an addict. Her warm lips wrap around the tip as she slowly comes back up, then down again. I moan once more, nothing turns her on more than my showing her what she does to me. She moans, vibrating my cock, sending chills up my spine—it gets me every time. She moves faster, closing her mouth a little tighter. I feel like I am deep inside her when she does this. I lose it in the back of her throat as she proceeds to pump every last drop until nothing is left. She finishes by licking the tip clean and then her lips.
“Well, that was unexpected but so much appreciated,” I tell her as I shove myself back into my pants. I place my hands under her arms, lifting her up off her knees, and place her on top of me. Grabbing a handful of her hair, I kiss her, making sure to nip her bottom lip to hear her sigh. I stand up with her on my lap and she tightens her legs around me, then toss her on her back on the coffee table. She lies with legs spread and her feet firmly on the floor.
“My turn to appreciate the unexpected,” I say as I rip her panties clean off. I hope she won’t miss those—I know I won’t. I push the table farther away with her on top. I don’t want to get hurt diving in. Dropping to my knees, I go straight for the kill, licking and sucking until I see goosebumps rise throughout her body. She is already thrashing and screaming, gripping my hair roughly. As I continue the assault, I place two fingers in, pushing directly into her sweet spot. Once she grips the edge of the table—leaving scratches from her nails, I move faster. I feel her swell around my fingers and taste her warm essence on my tongue. To finish the job, I slide my dick back out and thrust into her in one quick movement. She cries out my name over and over. We move together until we both hit the peak of ecstasy and collapse. Dinner is forgotten as we both drag ourselves to bed in complete exhaustion.
I wake to the sounds of the shower running and the sunlight streaming through the blinds. I want to go climb in the shower behind her, but my stomach hurts from lack of food. When the water shuts off, I close my eyes and pretend to be asleep. When I hear her walk over to her dresser, I crack one eye open. She stands there, giving me that fuck-me smile and I know I’ve been caught.
“Sleeping, are you? I guess I can always make breakfast and eat without you, I mean if you want...” She flaunts across the room; I don’t have to see her face to know she’s still smiling.
When she makes her way across the bottom of the bed, I leap up, wrapping my arms around her, and fall backward. She falls hard on top of me giggling and squealing.
“I don’t think so. I didn’t get to cook you dinner last night, so I am making your sexy ass breakfast,” I tell her, slipping my fingers under her ribs until she screams. She hates being tickled, but I would give anything to listen to that laugh.
“Okay, okay, you can cook for me!” Kicking and shoving, she pulls away laughing. We go down the stairs heading toward the kitchen but the stench of fish fills the room. I can see her face turn green as if she wants to puke. She rushes across the room to the forgotten groceries, lifts them in one quick swipe, and runs outside to the trash. When she comes back in she grabs cleaners and air sprays, prying the windows open as she goes. The wintery breeze fills the room giving us both a chill, and she tumbles over in laughter. “Guess we should never skip dinner, huh?” she barely breathes out.
We laugh for a few more minutes before we start toward the kitchen for breakfast. I cook her pancakes and bacon, which is the best way to a woman’s heart, at least, that’s what my mom used to tell my dad. Thinking of my parents or my childhood in general always sends memories flooding in. My mind shifts to another place as I place her food on the counter in front of her. She disappears, and I am standing in the kitchen of my childhood home.
Dad walks past me to my mom at the stove. I am a ghost; they can’t see me. But I see me sitting at the table, picking up a spoon full of baby food. I watch as my baby sister, Kimmy, knocks the spoon out of my hand with a bashful smile.
“Don’t you know that bacon and pancakes are the way to a woman’s heart, Gerald? I thought I trained you better.” She giggles as Dad places kisses on her neck.
“No one could train me better than you, Hun. You have been training me for fifteen years, and I still learn something new every day,” he says, reaching over her shoulder for a slice of bacon. She smacks it out of his hand telling him no.
“Looks like you need more training!” she says, they giggle with each other until Kimmy throws her cup, making a loud crash when it hits the floor.
My old life vanishes, and I am met with Laney in front of me with a troubled look on her face. I must have knocked my glass of orange juice off the counter.
“Sorry, I wasn’t paying attention. I’m tired,” I say, bending down to pick up the shards of glass. She nods her head as if it is normal for me to space out. Then I realize she knows what it’s like because she does it too. After I get the mess
cleaned up, she asks if we are still going for our jog.
“Yeah, I just have to eat and grab my joggers and we can go,” I tell her in a slight daze. I hate when flashbacks come out of nowhere—I lose my appetite and seem shaky. I push through breakfast, eating the bacon and half a pancake before going to get dressed.
I throw on my jogger sweats, a white t-shirt, and a grey hoodie, and slide on my sneakers before going downstairs. I reach the bottom of the steps and see that she’s bending over, stretching her legs with her ass on display, and I feel back to normal. Walking up behind her, I place my hands on her ass cheeks. Sliding my hands up and down until I get to the small crease separating her ass from her legs and then I lift. She tumbles forward, but I catch her and spin her around, planting my mouth on hers before a word can escape her lips. When I finally break the kiss, we grab our headphones and water and head out. “I’m Not Afraid” by Eminem blares in my ears as I set off. I glance over to Laney and she smiles turning on her own music, following beside me.
The chilly breeze blows in my face, causing my eyes to tear up. The clouds are dark; the sun is hiding. It looks like it’s going to snow before Thanksgiving gets here, I think to myself, blocking out any other thoughts that might creep in. I set my eyes on Laney jogging in front of me in her pink hoodie and low-riding black yoga pants. She is so lean I can see every muscle working in each stride she takes. We run for a few miles before breaking off the road onto a trail we found a month ago. She slows down until she comes to a complete stop in front of me. I remove my ear buds and hear her talking to herself. Confused, I ask her what she said. She turns around pointing to her phone—she has a call.
“Not a problem at all, Katy, I will be there shortly. Okay… you too. You’re welcome. ‘Bye.”
“Going in?” I ask her as I rub my hands together trying to keep them warm. I really need to get a pair of gloves for jogging; this shit is cold.
