by R. J. Lewis
He glances at me, that blank expression lingering. “No, Miss Montcalm, I’m not feeling sick.”
“Is he here to make sure you’re okay up here?” I tap the pen to my head, and his gaze follows the action.
“Are you suggesting I have a problem with my brain?”
“Well, we talked lightly about your memory complications, I’m just…putting the pieces together. Just…checking out the lay of the land.”
Shut up, Ivy.
This is what happens when I don’t think before I speak.
He begins to pack away his things, his face hardening. “Miss Montcalm, it’s no secret I was in a car wreck, and that I have suffered long lasting damage, but it’s still none of your business.”
Embarrassed, I look away. “I know.”
He gets up, bristling now. I’ve hit a nerve. I shouldn’t have said a word. Damn my mouth. He throws his folders into a drawer and slams it shut hard, making the entire desk rattle.
Then he leaves.
Just like that.
Doesn’t even look back.
I take it we’re done here.
I throw the pen down and run a weary hand through my hair. I feel deflated, like it would be so much easier if I just called it quits but…no, no, I’m not going anywhere.
We have time.
I just need to hang in there.
“All good,” I whisper to myself. “It’s all good, Ivy. We’ll start again tomorrow.”
Aidan
I stare blankly at Dr Brown as he closes his suitcase, peering at me through his glasses with a weary look. He’s eyeing the alcohol, eyeing the empty expression I’m giving him, and he isn’t impressed.
I take a gulp of my whiskey, waiting for him to speak.
Finally, he sighs. “The SPECT scan showed there is no blood flow to your right side of the brain. The temporal lobe, to be precise. That is where your long-term memories are stored. We had hoped your memories would gradually return, as we have noticed this in many patients suffering from a severe concussion. Now, this may still happen. I’m not saying it is entirely unlikely, however…the odds are slipping the more time goes by, and there is nothing we can do to reverse this.” He pauses, licking his lips to add, “I’m sorry I couldn’t be more helpful. These incidents…they happen, and they are case by case, Mr West, every one of them unique in their own hurdles.”
Tell me something I don’t fucking know.
I don’t respond—it would be pointless because there is nothing worth adding—not even when he waits for me to tell him good-bye. I don’t.
“I would urge you to be surrounded by as much support as possible,” he continues, striving to be helpful. “Don’t prod for information about your past, but…allow your support network to guide you. Try to come into your own organically, and lean on them in the process, Mr West.”
He is under the assumption I have multiple people to lean on.
I have no one.
They’re there, but not there.
I feel despair at the realization. I glare at the man, for invoking this response in me; for reminding me how utterly alone I am.
He leaves, and the room falls silent.
I take another gulp.
I need something harder. Something that won’t make my brain just swim, but a poison that’ll close my senses off entirely.
My memories will never return. He didn’t outright say it, the coward, but I can read between the lines. I fist a hand, teeth clenching as rage bubbles within me. I can do with losing my fucking mind—my memories along with them, be damned— but I can’t stand the fucking pity—so much pity—in every face, every mouth that dares to part their lips to utter, “I’ve heard about your accident, and I am deeply sorry…”
It’s no wonder I’ve crawled to this corner of the earth; it’s no wonder I’m hiding.
Still.
I tell myself it is what it is. I’m fucking fine with it all, and yet…
There is a deep feeling of loss I can’t describe. As though I have lost something profound and rare.
As though I should be wallowing in the dark, mourning it.
I clench the tumbler harder, tempted to throw it across the room. To hear it shatter. Instead, I shakily set it down on the side table and run my hands over my hair.
The room darkens, and it’s just me, sitting in the void.
I’m longing for the buzz. To feel lighter on my feet. To feel enough fire in me that I can finally wander this estate, converse, and feel alive.
If it comes to me, I might chase that infuriating woman down. Inspect her unit again, if only to listen to more of her scathing responses.
But the fire doesn’t come.
I think of the chasm in my chest, all the emptier from Dr Brown’s visit.
And when I do get up, I gravitate to my bedroom balcony and stand in the darkness, watching the stream of people as the music bellows below me.
*
“I’m sorry.”
“I know you are. Which is why this is so fucking difficult.”
These fragments are razor sharp. My brain surges with emptiness, grasping tightly those words, trying desperately to fill the void…
It’s not working.
“I miss you.”
I’m in a lull, that state between sleep and consciousness when a hand runs down my chest, unbuttoning my shirt slowly.
A lithe body settles over me, grinding against my lap.
I open my eyes, my hands instinctively grasping naked flesh. I blink up, for a fleeting moment expecting to see black-and-red hair. For a second, I want to whisper the word temptress.
My body tingles, my cock hardens as I envision that blue-eyed-devil grinding her naked body in my lap. My hands slip up her thighs. I drop my face to her chest, grazing my lips along her collarbone. I shiver at the thought of her pulsing around my cock—
“I missed you.”
My body tenses at the voice. My fog of lust clears. My hands instantly drop as I glare up at Nina.
“Get off,” I growl.
But she doesn’t. My shirt is open, her hands are pressed against my chest. She drops her face to mine, running her lips against mine. I jerk away, rejecting her.
“Aidan,” she says softly. “Please. Give us a chance.”
“Get off my fucking lap, Nina.”
She presses her pussy against my cock, and I wince at the warm pleasure that floods me. “You’re hard,” she whispers. “For me. For us. Your body wants me.”
I shake my head, trying to snap awake, but my brain is still cloudy. I’ve had too much to drink. Again. But this time I feel heavier than usual. There’s a surge of energy in my veins. My heart is hammering, my cock stiffening. I know this feeling—I’ve felt it many times before.
This is familiar…
“Think of how good it used to feel.” Her voice takes on that seductive tone I know so well. “Don’t you miss the wild rides we were on?”
I say nothing as I try to wrestle with my thoughts. Pulses of pleasure course through me. I feel…high.
“What did you do to me?” I say, confused. “Did you drug me?”
Nina licks a path down my neck, grinding against my hard cock. “Doesn’t it feel so good? Just let go.”
My head falls back against the chair, and I blink up at the night sky. I’m vaguely aware of my surroundings. Still on the balcony, in the darkness. I hear quiet chatter below. Not active like it was right before I passed out. Hours have passed by…
Nina continues to move, and I shut my eyes, my hands grabbing at her thighs again.
Just let go.
It would feel good to. I could do that. I could go back to that. Fuck, it’s an exciting thought. Nina has always been good for that—for driving away the dark thoughts. She’s a rush. Not her body, or her kisses, or her touch—but her mere presence puts me on a tailspin. She allows me to misbehave. She’d allow me to do anything when I’m like this. The thrill it gives me is a rush and it’s urging me to let go. To ac
t out and let the wrath out of me instead of contained within.
Her hand drops to my zipper, and she pulls it down slowly, her tongue still lapping along my throat.
“Fuck me, sir.”
My eyes whip open, and my body stills at that voice in my head growing louder.
“Please, sir.”
I let go of Nina, feeling cold.
This isn’t right.
This feels wrong.
“Get off,” I say again, this time harder. “Get the fuck off me, Nina.”
“Aidan, stop.”
“Get off!”
She doesn’t.
When her tongue laps at me again, rage sparks through me and I shove her off. She falls to the ground, her breaths coming out in a sharp hiss. Then she stands up, cursing, and before I look at her, I feel a sharp sting across my face. I jolt, wide-eyed as Nina stands over me, her hand still raised like she wants to strike me again.
Her hand rips into the air again, but this time I catch it in an iron grip and stand up, towering over her. Her chest is moving rapidly, like she’s excited. And then she presses her body to mine, her hand grabbing at my cock again.
“We can play,” she tells me, eyeing my mouth. “Push me around—”
“I’m not playing around,” I tell her. “You’re fucked up.”
“You like it.”
“I don’t.”
I drag her out of the balcony and across the room. She tries to pull away, resisting me. My movements are slow, and I let her go to run my hands down my face.
“What the fuck did you give me?” I demand as the room continues to spin.
“You should be thanking me. This was your favorite drug. Doesn’t it feel good?”
Fury tears through me. I drop my hands to look at her. “I want you gone. Now. Pack your shit and leave.”
She stays rooted in place. “What the hell happened to you? You’re not supposed to be like this.”
“Like what?”
“This way. Still a fucking pussy. I thought you were back to your normal self—”
“I’m sick of people telling me what I used to be like—”
“Don’t you miss the excitement? The parties and the fucking and the high—”
“No,” I cut in, feeling surprised at my admission. Because it’s not what I remembered it would be. “I don’t, Nina. That’s why I’m up here.”
“Then why the parties? Why all the people?”
I don’t answer. Because I don’t know why. It’s like…I’m latching onto whatever behaviors I knew I had.
But I could never tell her that.
I could never open up to her.
“It’s none of your fucking business why I do anything,” I finally say.
She’s quiet for several moments, studying me. Her pained face slowly ebbs away, and another expression fills it. One I’m entirely familiar with. She spins away and gathers her outfit off the bed. She slips into it, her movements brisk.
For a fleeting moment—so fleeting, it vanishes within a second—I feel unnerved to see her leave. Like letting her—this—go will physically hurt me. But it’s gone before I think it, and I stand there, waiting for her to leave.
When she’s finally dressed, she stops in front of me, and the coldest smile spreads along her lips. She’s dropped the act completely.
“This feels familiar,” she says icily. “Tossing me out again. The last time was in your office. You didn’t look hesitant about it like you are now. But I’m going to say the same thing I said to you then.
“You’re going to wind up alone, Aidan. You’re weak. Behind that arrogance and anger is a little boy in a man’s body.” She lets out a cold laugh, and all of it sounds so badly rehearsed. “All that money and you can’t find someone to help sort out your sordid issues. I was the only one that got the closest to figuring you out. You can pretend all you want that you didn’t need the hit, that you don’t enjoy it running through your veins right this very second. Go ahead and blame me for it, but you took that shit like your next breath and you unloaded everything on your doped up highs. I got you so close to it again. So close to falling back. You would have been hell of a lot more fun to be around. Your cock might have gotten harder too because there’s obviously something wrong with it now.”
She takes a step closer to me, looking up at me with those unfeeling eyes. “If there’s one thing your father should have done, Aidan, he should have beat you a little harder on the head. You’d have been more useful as a dimmed down fuck—”
“That’s nice, Nina,” I cut in, flatly. I whip open the bedroom door. “You can call yourself a cab. I want you out of here within the hour.”
She’s shocked, and then angry. “I’ll go tomorrow—”
“I will throw you out of my fucking house if you don’t pack your shit within the hour,” I say calmly, but there’s nothing calm in my expression. I’m colder than I’ve ever felt before, and I welcome it. Anything to get rid of this poisonous cunt.
She knows when not to fuck with me. She walks out of the bedroom in a huff and turns to look at me. She opens her mouth to speak, but I beat her to it.
“Most of what you said is true,” I tell her, emotionless. “I am fucked up. I do have issues, but there’s one thing you got dead wrong.” I move a little closer, so that I’m towering over her. “There’s nothing wrong with my cock, Nina. It just didn’t get hard for you, and I think I know why.” I drop my head to her level, growling, “You’re a disease. A sweet and slow venom. By the time a person wakes up to realizing what you are, it’s too late. You get into their system and you latch hard, but you must not have gotten into mine all the way because I take great pleasure watching you stand outside my door, looking every bit of the rat cunt you are. It seems, Nina, even amnesia can’t erase my fucking disdain of you.”
I slam the door shut on her face and stand there.
My confidence slips from my body as I rest my hands against the door and drop my head to it. I’m breathing hard, distraught. Her words flood through me, and I’m latching onto them, trying to find recognition behind her words.
She’d come to my office, and I’d tossed her out before.
I had purged her from my soul—from my life.
Now that’s a memory I would give anything to reclaim.
Adrenaline zips through my body. The pill is in full swing, and I’m entirely under its spell. I tingle everywhere—my mind is mute, but my body is soaring. I shut my eyes, feeling that rush run through me.
It feels good.
It feels fucking good to be back here again.
Eleven
Ivy
“Everything is shit,” I tell Ana on my way down the hill. I’ve spent the last hour in my suite, thinking, and now I just need to unload everything, but it’s getting dark and the mosquitoes are out.
“It is,” Ana agrees, sounding sad. “But I can’t believe you went back to his bedroom and told him about that bitch. You could have blown your cover.”
“Aidan’s no fool, Ana, and I…I’m the worst actress in the world.”
“Not true,” she sings. “You got the lead role in the third-grade school play, remember? Mrs Alders chose you because you blew her socks off. Your smackdown on the wolf should have won awards, it was so convincing.”
“Ana, I told him not to blow my house down.”
“And?”
“And it wasn’t Three Little Pigs. I was Red Riding Hood.”
“So? I was so transported into your acting, I didn’t even know.”
I let out a laugh. “Shut up.”
She laughs, too. “Is it weird being around him?”
“You have no idea.”
“He honestly doesn’t remember a single thing?”
“Well, he feels like he hates me, so there’s that.”
“Doesn’t mean he hated you before he forgot everything. You have a bitch face, Ivy. Honestly, it’s hard not to hate you at first,” she jokes.
“You’re suppo
sed to be making me feel better.”
“Look, he wouldn’t show up at your door in the dead of night with a boner if he hated you, right?”
I feel my face heat up. “You know, I was hoping he couldn’t get it up.”
“What?” she shouts. “Why?”
“Because then Steven would have been right. He said he couldn’t have been intimate with Nina because he was dead down there.”
Ana doesn’t respond for a few moments, which confirms what we’re all thinking: he obviously got it up. For her.
Her voice is sympathetic when she says, “You had mad balls going back to that room and telling him what she is, but even Aidan saw through her shit, and…he doesn’t remember, right? It’s not his fault, not that it makes it better, but…he doesn’t know you meant everything to him, which…sort of makes me feel like you should just tell him.”
“I feel that way, too,” I agree. “I have this urge to just let him know everything that went down, but that doesn’t mean he will suddenly love me, and to be totally honest, Ana, he is nothing like the guy I fell in love with.”
“Are you still in love with him?”
I take a moment to answer before I truthfully admit, “I don’t know how I feel, like I know I’m absolutely mad in love with him but he’s nothing like the Aidan I know. I’m confused.”
She makes a soft sad. “That’s understandable, Ivy. He grew into the guy you fell in love with. What a fucked-up situation.”
“Yeah…” my voice trails off as I make out a figure in the river. I immediately come to a stop, my heart hiccupping in my chest. I duck behind the trunk of the nearest tree, going completely still, processing what I just saw.
Alex.
In just his fucking briefs, wading through the water—water that has made those cursed briefs plaster to the round globes of his ass.
I don’t want to confront him. Not this soon.
“Ivy?” Ana’s voice breaks through my thoughts.
“I’m here,” I whisper, taking a quick peek at him again.
“Do I want to know why you’re talking in a whisper?”
“It’s his brother.”