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My eyes are constantly being pulled toward the relief. I fight it. With everything I have, I fight it.
Until I can fight it no more.
I pick up the bottle and stare at the clear poison inside.Escape. I start to unscrew the bottle, sniffing, blinking back the sting in my eyes.
Drink.
Don’t drink.
Drink.
Don’t drink.
I languidly look over my shoulder when the door opens, finding Sarah dressed to the nines in leather, her whip limp, her face maddeningly interested.
Punishment.
Punishment.
Punishment.
Pay for your wrongs and hope that somehow I’m offered a little mercy, some strength to get through this. I set the bottle down, swallow, and pull my T-shirt up over my head, dropping to my knees. I hear her inhale. Sense the thrill.
Fucking punish me!
Hit me until I can’t take any more.
I look at her. She’s caught in a trance, but I see the exhilaration she’s trying to hide. I know she won’t like seeing me like this. But I also know that her sick mind has wanted to do this to me since the day I killed our daughters. This could be the closure Sarah needs. I can’t consider that I’m succumbing to her. I’m actually succumbing to the booze.
“No,” John gasps, bursting into my office. He finds me on the floor. “Get up, motherfucker,” he seethes, coming to me and manhandling me to my feet. “Put your fucking shirt on and go back to your girl.”
I flip, losing all reason, finding strength in my chaos, anger fueling me. I wrestle him off me, shoving his big body away. “Get the fuck out,” I order.
“No.”
“Get out!” I bellow.
John finds Sarah, yanking off his glasses and pointing them at her. “If you truly love him, you won’t do this.”
She remains silent as John looks between us, and I look at Sarah, my eyes demanding her to whip me until I bleed. She might love me, but she definitely needs this more.
“You’re both as fucked up as each other,” John growls. “I’m fucking done with you.” He leaves, slamming the door with force behind him, and I drop to my knees, drop my head, and close my eyes. I hear her breathing become heavier. I hear her walk around the back of me. I smell her desire.
I close my eyes and watch as every person I’ve ever loved parades through my memory.
“Happy birthday for tomorrow,” Sarah purrs.
Crack.
I grunt, my spine snapping violently. “Again,” I order, rolling my shoulder blades, straightening, the biting sting very fucking real.
Crack.
“Again,” I say.
Crack.
“Again.”
