“Oh, I’ve heard that threat before,” she spat up at me. Anger was boiling in her eyes, venom lacing her tone.
My eyes grew wide as I remembered the last time I’d given her a similar threat. My chest ached, longing for the time when things were different between us. Times where my possessiveness was allowed to get the better of me, and my c**k ruled.
Her anger was new, confusing, and I didn’t know what to do. Something that scared me, but made me proud at the same time. I hated that she was going against me, but at the same time happy she was fighting back.
I’d taken to drinking at night, which was not good for anything that got in my path. The alcohol reduced my inhibitions, and the beast was let out. All my anger and pain unleashed upon my surroundings.
I wondered if I was like a drug addict going through withdrawal. I had all the symptoms, my physical dependence on Lila showing its ugly self.
My depression and anxiety spiked, and I craved her more than I ever had before. I needed her.
My condo was a mess, the drywall still laid on the floor in the entryway, various pieces of furniture were knocked over, and the closet in the master bedroom was ransacked. Clothes, shoes, belts were strewn all over the floor. Casualties of my search for something, anything, that was hers.
I emptied the hamper and found a shirt of mine she had thrown on one night and found it still smelled of her. I sighed, having enough of a fix to calm me somewhat.
I was a mess and it was my own fault. We could have been together, there were ways.
But there was no thinking on that day, only pain. It was for the best…for her.
We can give her what is best, what she deserves. We used to be that man, we can be him again.
Seeing her in the hospital, unresponsive, had been unbearable, but she was awake and she would get over me and move on. Get married and have a family.
Our family. We could have been a family; we could have made a family with her.
I shuddered at the thought, my eyes turning toward the small wooden chest lying exposed in the closet after my search. My mind moved back to another “made” family. My hand caressing the bump that lay between her hips, the ultrasound showing the life we had created.
Gone. All gone.
My wife.
My little boy.
“Happy birthday, Daddy!” she said with an excited smile while I opened the box she handed to me.
We were spending the weekend at her parents’ place for a combination belated birthday-Father’s Day party.
Within the box laid a black picture frame. Behind the glass an ultrasound picture with an arrow pointing between what appeared to be legs with the words “I’m a boy!” printed on it.
I smiled as I looked from my wife to the picture containing our child. Miscarriage after miscarriage, finally we were going to have our family. I leaned forward and captured her lips, conveying my love for her and for our child.
“I wish I hadn’t missed that appointment.”
“It was the first one you haven’t been able to make. I think that’s pretty good, especially with your schedule,” she said, her hands running through my hair.
“But, I missed this.” My fingers traced the form of our child.
“But what a great birthday slash Father’s Day gift! Besides, you won’t miss anymore.”
I was pulled back by the frightening reality her statement held.
No, I didn’t miss any more because there were no more to miss. She didn’t know, none of us did, that just a few short hours later I would lose them both.
They said he wouldn’t have survived outside the womb, even if he’d survived the crash and they’d gotten to him in time.
I saw the evidence photos; he didn’t survive the crash.
I pulled the shirt back up to my face and inhaled, breathing in Lila’s lingering scent. It was amazing how even that tiny bit that remained could calm me. What was I going to do when there was no more scent?
Her soft, warm body haunted me. I wanted to feel her in my arms. Just…feel her. Lila, my Lila.
My hand unconsciously rubbed at my chest to try and soothe the ache that lay beneath.
You can still fix this. Get her back! The beast spoke. Lay claim to her, make her ours! Marry her!
“No.”
Why?
“And give Vincent Marconi someone else he can take from me?”
We can protect her!
I couldn’t protect them; how was I supposed to protect Lila?
I looked up at the clock; fifteen minutes past eight. She was running late, past her normal seven-thirty. I tried to ignore the thought that sprung forth about the last time she was late, but it caught me nonetheless.
The phone on my desk rang and, in my daze, I answered it without looking at the caller ID.
“Nathan Thorne,” I said in greeting. There was a whimpering on the line before Lila’s voice broke through.
“N-Nathan, i-it’s Lila.”
There was something wrong, off in her voice, and I found myself on edge—my body leaned forward, bracing for the impact of her words.
“I-I’m n-not going to-to make it… Oh, God!” she cried out, and I heard the pain and fear. Mine was rising to meet hers. Her speech faltered, and I was unable to make out what she was saying. “Won’t…be in…”
“Lila? Lila, are you okay?” My anxiety was skyrocketing faster than my heart rate. Her pain coming out in whimpers and gasps. She was having a difficult time breathing.
“So…ung…so much b-blood,” she whispered more to herself than to me. “I d-don’t know where…w-where it’s com-coming from.”
Her voice grew in pitch near the end. My stomach dropped and the blood fled from my face.
“Lila, what happened? Where are you?”
“C-crash. N-not far… St-t-star-b-bucks,” she struggled to say.
I jumped up from my chair. Voices of the rescue crew were in the background, asking her questions, gaining vitals. What sounded like a chainsaw started, and I feared they had to cut her out of the wreckage.
Crumpled metal and mangled flesh flashed before my eyes and a vice formed around my chest then began to tighten.
“Lila! I’ll be right there. Do you hear me? Lila!”
There was no response before the line went dead. I slammed the phone down on the receiver and ran out of our office. I rushed to the elevator bay and pushed the down button at a frantic pace in a fruitless effort for it to arrive faster. The doors sprung open, and I barely registered anyone was coming out as I pushed through and entered into the cab.
My eyes grew wide as I remembered the last time I’d given her a similar threat. My chest ached, longing for the time when things were different between us. Times where my possessiveness was allowed to get the better of me, and my c**k ruled.
Her anger was new, confusing, and I didn’t know what to do. Something that scared me, but made me proud at the same time. I hated that she was going against me, but at the same time happy she was fighting back.
I’d taken to drinking at night, which was not good for anything that got in my path. The alcohol reduced my inhibitions, and the beast was let out. All my anger and pain unleashed upon my surroundings.
I wondered if I was like a drug addict going through withdrawal. I had all the symptoms, my physical dependence on Lila showing its ugly self.
My depression and anxiety spiked, and I craved her more than I ever had before. I needed her.
My condo was a mess, the drywall still laid on the floor in the entryway, various pieces of furniture were knocked over, and the closet in the master bedroom was ransacked. Clothes, shoes, belts were strewn all over the floor. Casualties of my search for something, anything, that was hers.
I emptied the hamper and found a shirt of mine she had thrown on one night and found it still smelled of her. I sighed, having enough of a fix to calm me somewhat.
I was a mess and it was my own fault. We could have been together, there were ways.
But there was no thinking on that day, only pain. It was for the best…for her.
We can give her what is best, what she deserves. We used to be that man, we can be him again.
Seeing her in the hospital, unresponsive, had been unbearable, but she was awake and she would get over me and move on. Get married and have a family.
Our family. We could have been a family; we could have made a family with her.
I shuddered at the thought, my eyes turning toward the small wooden chest lying exposed in the closet after my search. My mind moved back to another “made” family. My hand caressing the bump that lay between her hips, the ultrasound showing the life we had created.
Gone. All gone.
My wife.
My little boy.
“Happy birthday, Daddy!” she said with an excited smile while I opened the box she handed to me.
We were spending the weekend at her parents’ place for a combination belated birthday-Father’s Day party.
Within the box laid a black picture frame. Behind the glass an ultrasound picture with an arrow pointing between what appeared to be legs with the words “I’m a boy!” printed on it.
I smiled as I looked from my wife to the picture containing our child. Miscarriage after miscarriage, finally we were going to have our family. I leaned forward and captured her lips, conveying my love for her and for our child.
“I wish I hadn’t missed that appointment.”
“It was the first one you haven’t been able to make. I think that’s pretty good, especially with your schedule,” she said, her hands running through my hair.
“But, I missed this.” My fingers traced the form of our child.
“But what a great birthday slash Father’s Day gift! Besides, you won’t miss anymore.”
I was pulled back by the frightening reality her statement held.
No, I didn’t miss any more because there were no more to miss. She didn’t know, none of us did, that just a few short hours later I would lose them both.
They said he wouldn’t have survived outside the womb, even if he’d survived the crash and they’d gotten to him in time.
I saw the evidence photos; he didn’t survive the crash.
I pulled the shirt back up to my face and inhaled, breathing in Lila’s lingering scent. It was amazing how even that tiny bit that remained could calm me. What was I going to do when there was no more scent?
Her soft, warm body haunted me. I wanted to feel her in my arms. Just…feel her. Lila, my Lila.
My hand unconsciously rubbed at my chest to try and soothe the ache that lay beneath.
You can still fix this. Get her back! The beast spoke. Lay claim to her, make her ours! Marry her!
“No.”
Why?
“And give Vincent Marconi someone else he can take from me?”
We can protect her!
I couldn’t protect them; how was I supposed to protect Lila?
I looked up at the clock; fifteen minutes past eight. She was running late, past her normal seven-thirty. I tried to ignore the thought that sprung forth about the last time she was late, but it caught me nonetheless.
The phone on my desk rang and, in my daze, I answered it without looking at the caller ID.
“Nathan Thorne,” I said in greeting. There was a whimpering on the line before Lila’s voice broke through.
“N-Nathan, i-it’s Lila.”
There was something wrong, off in her voice, and I found myself on edge—my body leaned forward, bracing for the impact of her words.
“I-I’m n-not going to-to make it… Oh, God!” she cried out, and I heard the pain and fear. Mine was rising to meet hers. Her speech faltered, and I was unable to make out what she was saying. “Won’t…be in…”
“Lila? Lila, are you okay?” My anxiety was skyrocketing faster than my heart rate. Her pain coming out in whimpers and gasps. She was having a difficult time breathing.
“So…ung…so much b-blood,” she whispered more to herself than to me. “I d-don’t know where…w-where it’s com-coming from.”
Her voice grew in pitch near the end. My stomach dropped and the blood fled from my face.
“Lila, what happened? Where are you?”
“C-crash. N-not far… St-t-star-b-bucks,” she struggled to say.
I jumped up from my chair. Voices of the rescue crew were in the background, asking her questions, gaining vitals. What sounded like a chainsaw started, and I feared they had to cut her out of the wreckage.
Crumpled metal and mangled flesh flashed before my eyes and a vice formed around my chest then began to tighten.
“Lila! I’ll be right there. Do you hear me? Lila!”
There was no response before the line went dead. I slammed the phone down on the receiver and ran out of our office. I rushed to the elevator bay and pushed the down button at a frantic pace in a fruitless effort for it to arrive faster. The doors sprung open, and I barely registered anyone was coming out as I pushed through and entered into the cab.
