Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 72233 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 361(@200wpm)___ 289(@250wpm)___ 241(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72233 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 361(@200wpm)___ 289(@250wpm)___ 241(@300wpm)
“Shut up.” I held her against me and rubbed her back, and traced the welts on her ass. “I love you, which you already fucking know. But Chere...” I brushed the tears from her trembling cheeks. “I can only endure one kind of love. I can only have all of you. I can’t share you with anyone else, do you fucking understand that? Especially not him.”
“I wouldn’t. I wasn’t...”
I put a finger over her lips. I didn’t want another argument, not now.
“I’m sorry,” she said instead. “I’m trying. I want to give you all of me.” Her voice sounded strained. “But not all of me is...perfect.”
Fuck, I thought to myself. Fuck, fuck, fuck. I was the most imperfect person in the universe, and somehow I had this slave who wanted to be perfect for me, and I fucking wanted to fling myself from a window because I obviously wasn’t enough for her.
“You’re fine,” I said. “You fucked up, you were punished, it’s time to move on. You need to calm down now. You need to sleep.”
“Please don’t leave me,” she said again.
“Don’t fucking tell me what to do.”
“I’m not telling. I’m pleading.”
I sighed. “I’ll stay here until you calm down.”
But I stayed longer than that. I stayed until she finally fell asleep in a twitching, shuddering heap of exhaustion. Even after that, I stayed to watch her sleep, and tried to convince myself that it was okay to love her even if I hurt her. Did all my love for her cancel out the control, the sadism, the pain? Her apartment across the street haunted me. Someone else was renting it now, but should she have been there instead? Would she be happier there? Should I have stuck to my binoculars and let her find her own way?
What if she’d ended up with Cantor? Or back with Simon, or some other asshole who didn’t take care of her? At least I cared. I told myself that in the silence, repeated it like a mantra as a nighttime of minutes ticked by.
Then it was breakfast, and Vera was there, and Chere was dressed for work so none of her marks or bruises showed. In some way, the housekeeper was a chaperone, preventing things from getting any worse between us. I hoped things would get better. I slid a paper across the table.
You’re so beautiful, I’d written. It was shorthand for a longer phrase, a poem, a piece of our past. Look at what you do for me, I’d told her once, as she regarded her wrecked reflection in the mirror. You’re so beautiful. Now it stood for all the sacrifices she made in our relationship, and my acknowledgement of them. She gave a soft sigh and placed it beside her plate. I imagined her collar around her neck, and then my hand instead, choking her, stealing her breath. Stealing everything from her. But I would always, always try to give things back.
Her phone buzzed on the table next to her.
She looked down at the message, then at me. She handed it across the table before I even reached out my hand. There was no name at the top of the screen, just a number. Another message came before I could read the first one.
I know you said not to call, but it’s been almost a day now.
Chere, please. I’m searching for peace.
I let out my breath in a huff. “He’s searching for peace,” I said. “Asshole.”
A moment went by before she spoke. “I guess sobriety’s hard, especially when you have demons.”
“He’s a fucking demon.” I pushed a few buttons and blocked his number, then put the phone down beside me. “I’m going to keep this for a while.”
I could tell she wanted to argue, but the memory of last night was still brutally present between us. She bit her lip and looked down at her plate. “For how long?”
“Until I’m sure he’s moved on.” And until I’m sure you’ve moved on, you and your kind, codependent heart. Did I really think she wanted to get back together with Simon? No. I might worry about it every once in a while, but I knew it wasn’t realistic.
Did I think he might fuck her up again, while fighting his demons? Yes, I absolutely did. I think he wanted nothing more on earth than to get in some parting shots now that Chere was happy and successful without him.
“What if someone else tries to call me?” she asked.
“I’ll give you your messages.”
“I think Simon needs me.”
“Like he needed you before?” I frowned at her. “Like he needed you when he sucked the life out of you and used you for his own fucking weakness? No, Chere. Not again. I’m taking this phone for your own protection, and I’m warning you...” I waited until she met my gaze, because this warning was serious as shit. “Do not dare let him draw you in again. No contact. Zero contact. Do you understand?”