Until I Break
Page 23

“It matters to me.”
Why those four words should penetrate the turmoil roiling in my gut is beyond me. But they do. I lift my head and look over at Samantha—this woman who I thought might give me some insight; this woman who I thought, in the deepest, darkest, most secret parts of my soul, might be able to help me—and I see someone desperate to believe the best in me. Even after all I just told her, she’s ready to believe something positive. All I have to do is throw it her way.
“Yes, it was an accident.”
“What happened?”
I feel drained all of a sudden. Tired of fighting. Tired of hiding. Tired of lying and pretending that I’m something I’m not. I’m a monster. Plain and simple. There’s something wrong with me. I’m messed up. Profoundly messed up. Maybe hiding it was never the answer.
“Alyssa and I started dating when I was a junior and she was a senior. She was from a well-to-do family, much like mine. Her father was in politics. And, just like most families, hers had its fair share of secrets. One was a dirty uncle that had a fondness for blondes.
“It didn’t take me long to learn what she liked. At first, I found it kind of strange and off-putting. It never scared me; I guess I just wasn’t into that kind of thing. At first. But then, the more she wanted me to do to her, the more I started to like it. That feeling of power, of domination.
“Even after she went off to college, we kept seeing each other. By then, we had a…special bond. We shared things that other people wouldn’t understand.
“One weekend, before I graduated, I went to stay with her at college. I was thinking about going to medical school there with her. We went to a couple of parties, had too much to drink and then went back to her apartment to have sex. On this particular night, she asked me to choke her. Said she wanted to feel it when I came, wanted to feel my fingers tighten then relax. So I did. I did what she wanted. Only I’d had so much to drink, it took me a little longer. I don’t know if I held on too tight. Or too long. Or maybe both. But when it was over, I couldn’t wake her up. I tried for a few minutes then I started CPR. But I just couldn’t get her back.”
I rub my aching forehead. I rush through the rest, tired of reliving the pain. “I called my father after that. And he worked his magic. Of course, it wasn’t too hard when Alyssa’s family didn’t want the truth known any more than my family did. It would’ve ruined them. Her fetishes, an abusive relative. Nasty stuff. So the bad guy got off and lived to fight another day. The end.”
The silence is deafening. I don’t bother to look over at Samantha. I don’t want to see the horror, the judgment, the revulsion on her face. Resigned to the damage that my confession has done, I put the Rover in drive and I pull back onto the highway.
Neither of us speaks the rest of the way to Samantha’s. I’m lost in the past and Samantha is…well, I have no idea what she’s thinking. And at the moment, I can’t manage to care. I’m consumed with remembered guilt. And fear. And pain. And regret.
As I’m pulling onto the street in front of Samantha’s house, she finally breaks the silence. “Is that why you chose psychiatry?”
I’m weary. I’m tired of answering questions and revisiting the most horrific time of my life. “No. I chose psychiatry to understand why I became obsessed with that which had caused me so much pain. After Alyssa, I sought out women who liked what she liked. It was all I could think about for years afterward. I chose psychiatry so I could try and help myself. So I could understand it and then stop it.”
“And did you?”
“No. I have my theories, and I’m in control, but there’s no fixing me. At least not that I’ve found. All it’s taught me is that there’s a monster inside me. And I can’t let him out.”
I pull to a stop, leaving the engine idling. I just want Samantha to get out of my vehicle so I can get the hell out of here. Put this whole night, this whole experience behind me. It’s just now that I realize I’m in no position to help anyone else. I’m the most damaged and twisted of all.
I jerk when I feel the touch of Samantha’s cool, smooth fingers on my cheek. I turn to look at her. Her eyes are full of both love and pity, neither of which I can stand the sight of right now.
“That’s all I wanted from you. To know you, to know the truth.”
I look into her liquid smoke eyes as I reach for her wrist. I see the hurt register in them when I fling her hand away. “Congratulations. You got what you wanted. And now you know why you’ll never be enough for me,” I say harshly, wanting to make this as painful as I possibly can so that both of us will move on and never look back. “Now get out.” Her face shows stunned disbelief. “Out!”
She flinches like I slapped her and it stabs at my gut. I never wanted to hurt her. That’s why I warned her. I warned her because this is who I am. It’s what I do. I hurt people. It’s my curse. And that will never change.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE - Samantha
Mason stares down into my eyes. There’s a peculiar light in the pale, lime green depths, one I’ve never seen there before. It makes my heart flutter and my chest ache.
“You know that when I do this, when I make you like me, there’s no turning back. This is not the movies. You can’t kill your maker and become mortal again. You will be like me; you will be linked to me for all the days of eternity.”
“I know,” I assure him, biting back the words that explain how badly I want that, the words that would let Mason know that he’s all I’ll ever want. No matter how long forever is.
“What’s mine is mine. I will never let you go. And I will never share you.”
I know he’s warning me, trying one last time to scare me away, but what he doesn’t realize is that it’s no use. I’ve been his from the first night I saw him. My only hope is that I can make him all mine. No one else’s.
“And maybe one day, I won’t have to share you either.” It slips out before I can stop it, but not before I can see the sadness come into Mason’s eyes.
“That’s not the man I am, Daire. I wish I could be that for you, but it’s not my nature. I’ll love you all the days of the world, but I can’t promise to love only you.”
Tears are coursing down my cheeks. For the first time since I began writing so many years ago, I can’t find the happy ending. I can’t show my characters how to make it work without one of them destroying the other. Despite the hopelessness of my past, I have always nurtured the tiny seed that, one day, there would be a happy ending for me, that one day I would find true love and everything would be all right.
But here I am in “one day.” I’ve found true love, yes. But everything’s not all right.
Alec’s feelings for me aren’t the same. He might care about me, deep down in places he won’t even admit to himself, but he doesn’t feel what I feel. If he did, there’s no way he could have walked away.
And he did.
Alec Brand simply walked out of my life.
Well, drove. That night, when he drove me home in his Range Rover and dropped me off, was the last time I saw him. And that was eight weeks ago. Well almost. Fifty-four long days and fifty-five even longer nights. Not that I’m counting.
You’re totally counting!
But who could blame him? I was totally out of line, goading him the way I did. If he’d wanted to tell me, he would’ve. And I should’ve respected that. He’s obviously tormented about his past, and forcing him to tell me about it was wrong. Just wrong.
So am I really surprised that he walked away?
No. Not really. I’d have done the same thing if he’d pushed me like that. And my past, though terrible, is nothing like his. And he’s carrying it around, all that guilt, like a thousand pound weight.
Every day.
The phone rings. My heart still speeds up every time I hear it, but not nearly as much as it used to. After a few weeks of not hearing from Alec, it began to penetrate my stupid head that he’s not coming back, that he won’t be calling. But still, I react a little bit even now. And just like always, I’m filled with disappointment when I see that it’s not him.
This time, it’s Chris.
“Hello?” I try not to sound so mopey, but there’s very little I can hide from Chris, no matter how hard I try.
“Still in a funk, huh?”
I sigh. But she sees right through me. As I suspected.
“No.”
“Liar.”
“Then why did you ask?”
“Just being polite.”
“Asking someone if they’re in a funk is not polite.”
“Fine. God, when are you gonna get over this? You’re as prickly as a porcupine.”
“Then why do you still call me?”
“Because you’re my sister and I love you. I refuse to abandon you in your hour of need. Even if that hour extends into months. But I will warn you that my cut-off is Christmas. You know I can’t have you sulk through the holidays.”
Christmas always was Chris’s favorite holiday.
“Oh Lord! I hope I’m feeling better long before then!”
As sad as it is to admit, I doubt I will be. At least not completely. This hole will never be filled, this ache never satisfied. That’s the risk you take when falling in love. If it doesn’t work out, it leaves you devastated forever. And forever is a long time.
“I know I don’t know all the details, but I still think you need to go see him. Sam, there’s no way the guy can’t be in love with you, too. He’s too smart not to see how amazing you are.”
“And you’re smart enough to realize how biased you are.”
“Maybe a little, but I’m still objective enough to see you for who and what you are. I know you’re not perfect. You have a terrible sense of style, you need to take better care of your skin and your morning breath could knock over a fruit stand from ten paces.”
“Like yours is any better!” I defend indignantly.
She giggles. “What I’m getting at is that I know your flaws, so I’m not blind. But you’re the catch of a lifetime even in your terrible clothes.”
“Half the time I wear things you pick out.”
“I know! Thank God you look nice part of the year.”
I roll my eyes. There’s just no reasoning with Chris.
“Did you call just to point out all my shortcomings?”
“Oh, hell no! There’s no time for that. I called to invite you out for a girl’s night. Let’s go get drunk. You wanna?”
For the first time since the conversation started, I hear the sad desperation in her voice. That or it’s the first time I’ve had my head out of my butt long enough to perceive someone else’s pain.
“What’s the matter? Did something happen between you and Greg?”
There’s absolute silence on the phone. I wonder for a few seconds if we got cut off, but then I hear her sniff.
“It’s over. Done.”
“What happened?”
“We got in an argument and he got pretty mad. I guess I just got spooked. You know, old fears, ghosts from the past, all that shit. I freaked. Threw a vase at him. Hit him in the head.”
“Ohmigod, Chris! Is he okay?”
“He’s fine. It only grazed him. But still…”
“Oh,” I say, deadpan. I do see. He got to see some of Chris’s emotional wounds and he ran. Every broken person’s worst fear—that no one will be able to love us in spite of our scars.
“I apologized, but it didn’t do any good. So now I get to live the rest of my life knowing that I ruined the best thing to ever happen to me.”
“Stop it right now, Chris! This is not the end. Greg is a nice guy. He might just need to cool down. And if he can’t ever forgive you then you’ll meet another great guy, one who will love you for exactly who and what you are, past and all.”
“You sort of lost your credibility when you refused to go give your perfect man another chance.”
“But you don’t know how it went down. I was such a bitch, Chris. I said awful things to him. My situation is different than yours.”
“Is it? Is it so different? You showed each other your ugly and then it all fell apart, isn’t that right? Isn’t that what you told me?”
“Chris, there’s more to it than that. You just…you just had to be there. I can’t go into it. It’s not fair for me to tell you what he trusted me with.”
“I’m not asking you to tell me. I’m just hoping that you two can show me that there’s hope. If you can find happiness, I know I can, too. But if someone as great as you can’t make it work, what does that say for someone like me?”
“Chris, you’re amazing. You don’t need me to start counting all your wonderful attributes, do you? Do you really want me to bore you with things you already know?”
In some ways, Chris is the most confident person you’d ever hope to meet. But in other ways, ways she keeps closely guarded, she’s every bit as screwed up and insecure as I am. She just does a better job of hiding it than I do. According to Alec, I write about the ways I hope to heal, about the life I wish I had rather than experiencing any of it.
“Fine. I’ll make you a deal. I’ll give the thing with Alec one more shot if you promise to go talk to Greg.”
Sniff, sniff. “Really?” she asks in a small, childlike voice.
“Really really.”
“Okay, but can we still do girl’s night tonight? I need to go have a little fun. Plus, I’ve got this really cute dress I’m dying to wear.”