“No…not him…never him,” I say in a daze. I can’t get my hopes up, because I’ll never be free of him. Hasn’t he assured me of that repeatedly? Lucian comes closer until my legs are wedged between his. He takes my face between his big hands, forcing me to look at him. “He’s never letting me go,” I say to him as Debra chokes on what sounds like a sob beside us.
“Baby, listen to me. Jim Dawson is dead. They found him earlier this morning in the French Broad River. He’s gone…for good.”
I give Lucian a dejected look as I say, “He knows how to swim. He was on his high school swim team so he would never have drowned.” I know my words must sound crazy to him. Most people would assume that my refusal to accept that my stepfather is dead stems from not wanting to lose him. It’s not that at all…I just can’t let myself believe it because I’ll break completely apart when we find out he is alive, well, and coming after me. It’s been literally beat into me over and over all my life to never wish for anything. There may be a fine line between love and hate, but the line between dreams and nightmares is even thinner, almost transparent at times.
When his lips suddenly lock on mine, all thoughts are driven from my head. The daze of a few moments ago is gone, and I feel nothing but him. His familiar smell and taste surround me as I lose myself to the stroke of his tongue. When he refuses to deepen the kiss, I raise my hands and dig them into his hair, trying to pull him closer. When Debra drawls, “Whew, have mercy,” it’s like a bucket of cold water over my head.
I was seconds away from crawling into Lucian’s lap and wrapping myself around him. Just one touch from him and I’d completely forgotten her presence and…his words. “He’s really dead?” I gasp out, finally allowing it to penetrate the protective shell I had been in. The reason for Lucian’s sudden kiss is clear to me now. He was attempting to break down my walls and get me to really hear him.
“He is,” Lucian agrees gently, rubbing my arms.
“Do the police know what happened?” Debra asks as she begins to visibly relax.
Once again, Lucian hesitates before saying, “It was a gunshot wound. He was probably dumped in the river after the fact.” My hands start to shake as everything sinks in. “He’s gone, baby…he is really gone,” Lucian adds before pulling me into his arms.
Lucian and I both startle as Debra jumps from the couch and starts throwing her arms in the air. “Hell, yes! Ding dong, the devil is dead!” Then she does something that looks suspiciously like an attempt at moonwalking mixed with some sort of break dancing. I know both of our mouths are hanging open as she continues to act as if she just won the lottery. “Hey, I’m happy as a pig in shit! If that makes me a bad person, then so fucking be it. My baby girl is finally free.”
Unbelievably, as Debra celebrates, I cry…and I mean ugly cry. I know Lucian and Debra must think I’ve gone insane. How can I possibly be crying right now? The odd thing is that my tears have nothing to do with sadness and everything to do with a twisted kind of loss. Like someone suffering from a type of reverse Stockholm syndrome, I don’t know how to react now that the evil which has defined me for years is gone.
For as long as I can remember, my life has been about survival. First with my mother, then with the monster she brought into our lives, and finally trying to make it on my own. Who am I now that I’m no longer that girl? Can I even adjust to being a person with the normal hopes and fears of a woman my age? With him gone, I comprehend that I’ve been his puppet on a string even when I thought I had won my freedom the day I left home. I was only ever as free as he allowed me to be. His very existence still controlled every aspect of my world.
The realization snaps something inside me. I wrench myself from Lucian’s arms and completely lose it. My anger bubbles like molten lava flowing through my veins as I begin throwing everything in my path. I’m like a whirlwind of destruction as I smash a glass vase against the wall. The lack of clutter in Lucian’s apartment means there isn’t much readily available on tabletops, so I move on to the bar area and start grabbing the crystal glasses and decanters there. I see Debra, out of the corner of my eye, starting to approach me before Lucian pulls her back. “She needs this; just let her go.”
You’re fucking right I need it, I think to myself as I continue to destroy the bar area. I’m vaguely aware of Debra leaving before I lose all meaning of time and place. My throat begins to throb and I wonder idly why when I realize I’m screaming and my voice has gone unusually husky. Have I been doing that this entire time? My movements slow almost as if having to think about something so mundane has brought me back to the present. I look down in surprise at the bottle of whiskey I’m holding. As I move to sit it on the bar behind me, something crunches beneath my feet. I glance down in disbelief to see broken glass everywhere. The room looks like it has been ransacked. A wave of relief washes over me when I notice Lucian standing off to the side, almost as if waiting for my next move. “Luc?” I ask uncertainly. “I…oh, my God, I did this!” The words tumble from my lips as I stare at him in horror.
He reaches me just as I would have fallen to my knees in the jagged glass graveyard below my feet. He doesn’t say anything as he effortlessly swings me into his arms and leaves the carnage behind. He carries me straight to the bathroom before setting me on my feet. His eyes move over my face as if searching for something as he strips my clothing from my body. I stand, waiting obediently as he makes quick work of his own before dropping his hands to my hips. He leads me into the steaming shower and under the hot spray of water.
He washes me thoroughly and then himself. When I turn to step out, he pulls me back, enfolding me in his arms. He joins our lips in a kiss that is devoid of anything other than comfort. He is connecting with me in the fastest way he knows. This kiss is all about helping me find my center, grounding me with him in the moment, and I need it. I put my arms tightly around his neck, and he hoists me up so I can wrap my legs around his waist. He rocks from side to side, comforting me like a child. “Are you okay?” he asks against my lips as he rains soft kisses across my exposed skin.
“I’m sorry about what I did,” I say, ashamed to have lost control and wrecked his beautiful apartment. “I’ll clean it all up right now.” I begin unwrapping my legs from around him, but he stops my downward descent by refusing to release my ass. He carries me from the shower before putting me back on my feet.