by Tiana Laveen
Savage slowly lessened his grip for a fourth time, squeezed, then again, and relaxed his grip. He grinned as the fucker’s back arched, his face turning blue. The man coughed violently and gasped for air.
“I can break your spinal cord in three seconds, shoot you in the throat and let you lie here and die, bleed the fuck out. Final time. Where’s Longhorn?” he asked once more.
“Savage… You asshole! YOU FUCKIN’ ASSHOLE!” The guy coughed up blood, which spluttered against his lips and chin.
“Yes, my name is Savage and yes, I am an asshole, but I didn’t ask you to identify me. I asked you to tell me where your puppet master is and the reason he sent you.”
“I’m… I’m not telling you shit!” the man spat.
Savage slid over the prick’s body like a blanket for the newly deceased, pressing his weight against him as he pried his lips apart with a jerk of his hand. His prey made the oddest noises as he toyed with his face, taking steps to ensure that things ended one way or another.
“Well then.” Savage smiled down at him as he turned into an impromptu dentist. “Since you’re not telling me shit,” he sneered, “as you’ve so nicely stated, I’ll make certain that you not tell anyone shit ever again… okay?”
Taking the dagger still stained with another fucker’s blood, he reached into his mouth, grasped his tongue and sliced it off in one fell swoop. The man’s body writhed and rocked beneath him as he groaned in pain, his mouth now looking as if someone had poured a pitcher of Bloody Mary inside it. The man’s eyes bucked and rolled as Savage leisurely got to his feet, leaving him there to bleed to death.
“In about ten minutes,” Savage glanced casually at his watch, “several men you love to hate will be here, and they’re going to collect your dead friends that are lyin’ around here, getting ready to stink up the joint. Then, they’re going to grab you too, the new mute, and bury you alive with them … Damn. Maybe I was too hasty?” He shrugged. “I bet you were going to eventually tell me where Longhorn was, huh?” He chuckled. “I bet the answer was on the tip of your tongue.” He tossed the loose pink muscle onto the ground. “But as they say, silence is golden. Shine bright like glitter, motherfucker. It’s showtime…”
…Several days later
“This is Dr. Zaire Ellington with ‘Confessions of A Better You.’ I want to welcome everyone back to the show this evening.
Sitting in her radio studio built into her home with her engineer and producer close by, Zaire leaned into the microphone. Her long, dusky gray shrug slid down one shoulder, exposing her black bra strap, and a cool breeze from the air-conditioning vents above tickled her flesh.
“Just a little housekeeping before we begin. I am a licensed psychologist in the state of Nevada specializing in marriage and family dynamics.” She clasped her hands together and took a deep breath. “I graduated from Yale University, receiving my PhD in Clinical Psychology, then worked for many years in several local hospitals in the mental health and well-being units. Soon thereafter, I entered the private sector. Now, I run my own show where I talk to you, my wonderful listening audience, addressing your marital, familial and relationship issues.
“Last week, we were speaking with Karen from Las Vegas who was explaining that her husband of three years, had recently joined various online dating services. After months of suspicion that her husband was cheating, she figured out his password and lo and behold, stumbled upon a treasure trove of sites aimed at setting up intimate hookups between consenting married adults. Karen is back on the line with us this evening.” She pushed a button and crossed her ankles. “Hello, Karen, welcome back…”
“Hi… hi, Dr. Ellington.” The woman sniffed, as if she’d been crying.
“I’m so glad we managed to speak again, Karen. I didn’t feel as if we discussed the issue enough before we’d run out of time, and I certainly didn’t want to leave you so abruptly. You know, Karen, what you’ve discovered is not uncommon, unfortunately. You’re not alone. In this virtual age, it is rather easy for people to have discreet sexual liaisons, thus breaking the trust between committed partners. These phone apps create a virtual playground right at our fingertips, a fast food sexual service, if you will, which removed the need to sneak around whispering on a phone, or meeting up for drinks in secret to break the ice. Eliminating all of that saves time and reduces the risk of being discovered. It also aids in the spinning of a false narrative, where people can pretend to be what they are not.”
“He is definitely not the person I thought he was.” The woman laughed dismally.
“Perhaps, but what may be more true, Karen, is that he is not the man you wanted him to be. Now, back to the online thing, particularly these apps… I need to address this because I’ve been getting a lot of calls and emails about this very issue. I believe in the saying that the eyes are the windows to the soul. There are no eyes to look upon when these interactions begin, only photoshopped or filtered photos and whatever notions pop into our head, ones to fill a void and cater to a fantasy. That aside, there is a clear intent—no need to grab coffee before the grand event, right? It’s a meeting of the genitals, not the minds. Your fingers simply do the typing to arrange such a thing. Now, in the interest of privacy, we’ll call your husband ‘Ken’.” Zaire leaned forward, took a sip of her hot green tea, and continued. “Please let’s pick up where we left off. You were in the midst of telling us what occurred, Karen, when you confronted Ken regarding your recent findings about his infidelity.”
“Well, needless to say, I uh, I was devastated! I cried… I still do, everyday… So, after I got myself together, I took several screenshots and sent them to myself as backup, knowing he’d try to get rid of the evidence once I brought it to his attention—make me seem like I’m crazy or misread something. When he got out of the shower, I confronted him. At first he tried to say they were old profiles.” Zaire nodded as the woman relayed the painful details. “Then he told me I had no right to mess with his phone, invade his privacy. He became irate and tried to turn it around.”
“Those are all typical responses when one is caught in such situations… especially if they wish to maintain their marriage, for whatever reasons. In this case, it’s more than likely financial incentives for him to stay in it. Where do you and Ken stand now, Karen?”
“We’re not speaking and he is calling me a nut… saying the accounts are old, when I could clearly see that they weren’t.”
“Playing Devil’s Advocate here… are you certain?”
“Yes I am because several of the photos he posted were of him inside our new house and we’ve only lived here a little over six months.”
“Did you check the websites to see if he still had active profiles?” Zaire jotted down a few notes.
“Yes. I created a fake account for each service and sure enough, his were all gone. I’m sure he has more that I don’t know about though.”
“Okay, so you’re at a stage where Ken is still feigning no knowledge of the incidents and blaming you when he was the one engaging in, at the very least, inappropriate conversation that delved into a sexual nature with women other than his wife. Correct?”
“Yes. All of that is accurate.”
“The first thing you need to do, Karen, is not wait for confirmation from him or expect an apology at this point. There are three typical reactions to such a situation: 1. Admission followed by an apology and request for assistance towards a reconciliation and healing. 2. Denial and blame-gaming… often used by narcissists, sociopaths, or simply people who are unable to deal with their inadequacies and wrongdoing in a mature manner. 3. Admission, but then accusing the significant other of being the prime reason for the infidelity. What you have, Karen, is number two, and boy is it a piping hot pile of dung. So, let’s put Ken aside and focus on you for a change.”
“Okay.”
“Because your wellbeing, with or without Ken’s help, is what’s important here. He has made his choices; now it’s time for you to make yours. I wa
nt you to tell Ken that he’s demonstrated absence of devotion, is missing moral character, and has insulted your intelligence. He has shown, with his actions, a lack of respect for you and he believes he is entitled to do as he wishes. But as for you… if you care one iota about yourself, you will be forming a new life that doesn’t consist of acceptance of this level of disrespect.”
“Are you… are you suggesting I divorce him?”
“A marriage, in my opinion, can survive one instance of infidelity, Karen. What it cannot survive is repeated emotional abuse and manipulation, gaslighting, frequent lying, then more of the same. Karen, I’m going to send you my book, ‘In My Own Arms’, as well as ‘Enough is Enough’, which is my bestselling self-help book. Both discuss self-love and appreciation, and the steps one needs to take in order to navigate what you’re currently enduring. Remember, the reasons why one considers cheating are not always the cheater’s fault. The act of cheating, however, is.”
“Thank you, Dr. Ellington,” Karen said around a nose full of sniffles. “This has been incredibly painful.”
“I understand that you are upset and hurting. The fact of the matter is, however, you do not have children with this man, so you can make a clean break. I tend to avoid telling callers and my clients to divorce. This should always be a last resort and ultimately their own decision, but what you’re experiencing is one of many instances over the course of three years where you’ve been disparaged and treated lesser than by this man. In our first conversation, you stated that in the first year of marriage he cheated with a co-worker.”
“That’s true… it’s been awful. I love him so much though.”
“Do you see how you just glossed over that and went back to how much you love him? Love doesn’t have anything to do with this! Love is nowhere to be found in this equation, not even self-love or you would not keep subjecting yourself to this person who has proven time and again that you mean nothing to him. A one-time affair doesn’t mean that person doesn’t love you—that’s bad enough—but repeating the abuse is a huge issue! Ken does not love you, okay? He does not care. He does not want you, Karen. Do you hear me?! Our actions speak louder than our words.”
“I think he may have a problem.”
Zaire rolled her eyes, fell back in her seat and sighed. She didn’t know if she could go another minute with this call, but she was determined to fight through it.
“After that first indiscretion, Ken didn’t stop there, did he?” She grabbed a pen and twirled it between her fingers like a tiny baton.
“No, he didn’t.”
“Right, because you told us that the second year, after he swore to leave her alone, the co-worker, there was a pregnancy scare in which he had to submit DNA testing and was ruled not to be the father. But the stress that brought upon you and your marriage was traumatic. He then lost his job, or quit I should say, since he felt that position was beneath him; and he allowed you to carry the financial burden all by your damn self while he ran off into the streets with his friends and played video games. That’s of course when he wasn’t passed out drunk.”
I hate this motherfucker and I don’t even know him…
Zaire rolled her eyes as memories of her own ex-boyfriend burst through her mind. A brilliant man who’d turned into a jerk when he drank too much. After three years and two months of that, hoping, wishing and praying, she left him and never looked back.
“Now here we are, Karen, three years in, and he is back at it again. He’s a consistent bastard, that’s for sure! Worse yet, as in most cases such as this, I am certain you don’t even know the half of it.” Zaire tapped her black stiletto shaped fingernail against the work desk. “This is only about what you caught him doing red-handed so trust me, the rabbit hole is deeper, much deeper.”
“I understand! It’s a mess!” The woman sniveled. “How can I get my marriage back on track? I don’t want to divorce, Dr. Ellington. I have too much invested in it. We understand each other.”
“I need everyone to hear me on this next part. If you pay attention to nothing else I say today, listening audience, at least listen to this.” She leaned in closer to the mic, placing one hand on her hip and pointing her finger in the air as she made her point. “What some women seem to not understand is that emotional cruelty, habitual cheating, and mental anguish due to dishonesty and lack of accountability in a relationship, disregard for how one’s actions affect one’s mate are all forms of abuse. Karen here is in denial. She doesn’t see this for what it is. There is no saving a pig from mud—that’s where it wants to be! Just because a man is not slapping you around doesn’t mean this is any less serious. If you are being lied to, cheated on, or made to feel inferior on a continuous basis, I must break it to you: you’re a battered woman. You’re mentally and emotionally tormented. Your bruises and scars are on the inside, not the outside, but they are very much there, just as real and just as important.”
“Dr. Ellington, please! I get what you’re saying, but you’re not in our home. It’s not how you think it is. We have good times, too.”
“So did many serial killers and their victims on occasion. What’s your point?”
“I have faith that he can change. He just needs help!”
“Karen, when will you have enough love and faith in yourself to pull the plug on this entire operation? That’s my question. When will you help your own self? You’re going to do like so many others… call in to shows like this, badger psychics on those 1-800 numbers, bother your friends and family and complain, then go right back to the source of your pain, a glutton for abuse! We’re tired of people like you, okay? People who really don’t want support and assistance. You want a magician to wave a wand and change this piece of man! Because that’s what he is! Real men don’t do this to their wives!
“Then, you’ll be in this same spot, ten years later, after he’s emotionally beaten you to nothing, drained you dry, saddled you with children that he isn’t there for emotionally or financially either, and you’ll be singing the same old sad song. Only this time, you’ll be bitter. Your best years would’ve been wasted and you’ll use the children as an excuse to stay, though you hate his guts and daydream of slitting his throat in his sleep. At that point, it isn’t his fault. It’s yours for not taking your truth serum like a woman, swallowing it down and getting better, because baby, you’re sick! I am not going to pussyfoot around with you. You are playing with fire to even consider staying with someone like this and I am no longer interested in trying to change your mind—because you’re not ready, honey, I get it, but someone out there who’s listening is prepared to make a change! So, this message is for you out there that care about yourself enough, love yourself enough, cherish yourself enough to say, just like my book, ‘ENOUGH IS ENOUGH!’”
The woman was sobbing now, falling apart.
“Karen, I come from a place of love! I am not trying to hurt you, but baby, you better wake the hell up. He talks to you like trash because you keep putting yourself out on the curb! Will he have to produce children outside of the marriage, like so many others, for you to finally rid yourself of this addiction known as Ken?!” The woman sobbed loudly on the other end of the phone. “I understand that you’re in pain, but if you wish to begin healing, you must start from within… And now, we are moving on to other callers… I wish you well.”
Zaire went on with her show, each caller announcing their issues with a loved one, going into detail about how their lives have been turned upside down due to a wayward teenager running amuck, or a mate who found love outside of the home in the arms of a dear family friend.
After the two-hour segment was complete, she lay back in her chair and smiled as her producer, Emanuel, gave her a thumbs up. She looked up at the ceiling then closed her eyes, her mind spinning around and around, falling into a daydream. Some days, the calls were so emotionally draining that it felt like a vigorous gym workout. At times, she too, witnessed bits and pieces of her former self in these people who called in,
declaring their heartbreak caused by someone who didn’t live up to their expectations.
“Great show, Zaire,” her engineer, Robert, stated as he slid his white jacket on, the keys to his truck dangling from his fingertips.
“Thank you! Any plans tonight?” she asked, half listening to the music playing, something she always did at the end of each show. Right now, Taylor Swift’s ‘Everything has Changed’ featuring Ed Sheeran weaved its musical magic spell through the speakers.
“Tiger and I are probably headed out to Hyde for the weekend.” He reached down and grabbed his satchel.
“Hyde Bellagio? You’re going to Vegas today?”
“Yeah. I love the Bellagio. Hyde is amazing. You should go if you’ve never been. It’s nice and upscale, great Italian food. I figured Tiger would want to get away for a bit, visit her sister.”
She and Robert waved goodbye to Emanuel as he slipped out the back door.
“Well that’s a coincidence because I was thinking of having a Vegas weekend with a couple of my girlfriends. I told them earlier in the week we would go tonight, but I haven’t confirmed. I’m known to change my mind at the last minute.” She grinned, though she wasn’t particularly proud of that. “After the week I’ve had, I really could use it.” She laughed dismally and shook her head, finishing off her drink.
“Yeah, it’s been rough. Must be a full moon this week,” he teased. “You told me a few weeks ago you hadn’t been to Vegas in a while. How long has it been?”
“Geesh.” She tapped her chin and thought it over. “I’ve been to Vegas a few times for conventions over the past twelve months but for a pleasure trip?” She grabbed a bottle of water, twisted the top off and took a hard chug. “Over a year. I called Kim and Allison, and they said they’re up to it. I just need to confirm like I said. Yeah… I’m going. I will call them for sure.”
