Girl On the Edge

by CD Reiss

  “I can’t even look at you.”

  “He’s a grown man.”

  “He thinks you can keep him from getting called.”

  “How do you know I can’t?”

  I let out a derisive laugh. He’d always had a high opinion of his position.

  “This war’s messy,” I said. “It’s never going to end. Every week, it’s clearer we’re in a quagmire. You know it because your company is invested in keeping it going. War ends, money dries up.”

  “It doesn’t work like that.”

  “Maybe not for you. For the suits on the top floor? For the lobbyists? That’s how it works. And now my husband is on the army’s radar. If there’s pressure to send him back, you’ll buckle. Your company will buckle. And if he goes back…” I took a deep breath and finally looked at Ronin. “If he goes back and he doesn’t die, he’ll be dead anyway. In his mind, he’ll be someone else. I’m not ready to lose him. I’m not ready for my mind to die.”

  “Okay, let’s do this.” He put his coffee on the seat and pivoted to face me. “I’m going to tell you things you should have seen already.”

  “Don’t try to tell me how much pull you have.”

  “I don’t have the pull to keep your husband safe because he wants it. I have pull because he’s valuable. He has the complete table of criteria for this treatment. He’s educated, verbal, aware. If we nail this, it’s going to treat PTSD on the field in real time.”

  “So you can send them back out.”

  “So we can send them back out. Imagine that though? Healthy men. Stable men. Fighting like they’re trained to do. It would crack the recruitment problem wide open.”

  “How do I know he’s not going to be the first guy you cure and send out?”

  “Because he’s not the only one. We have test subjects from all over who are better suited to going back to the front lines.”

  I sighed and turned back to the street. A plume of smoke wafted up from Sixth Avenue. Jackhammer debris. Was it possible to enjoy living in a city when it pounded your soul into compliance?

  “I don’t trust you,” I said.

  “He does.”

  “He barely knows you.”

  “Do you know him?”

  I snapped back toward him. The years had rubbed away so much of Ronin’s handsomeness, leaving behind a face that was a little more than good-looking, a little less than readable. When Caden stuffed his emotions away, he hid behind a mask of stone. Ronin’s mask was made of intensity and enthusiasm.

  “Maybe not,” I said.

  “You don’t have to trust me, but you should. I’ve told you more than I’m supposed to.”

  “I love him, Ronin. He’s my life, and seeing him like this… it hurts me more than you can imagine. If I could put myself in his place, I would.”

  “My guess is seeing you suffer would hurt him just as much.”

  “I can handle it better.”

  “Don’t sell him short.” He stood and leaned down to pick up his cup. “He can handle more than you think.” When he was straight again, he saluted with his cup-hand, two fingers to his forehead. “Later, Major.”

  “Fuck you, Lieutenant.”

  Chapter Twenty

  CADEN

  The Blackthorne tech was a young Hispanic woman in a white coat, the picture of seriousness and detachment. She flicked the end of the syringe.

  “Right arm,” she said.

  “What are you giving me?” I rolled up my sleeve.

  “B vitamins.” She gave me the shot with painful precision. I felt as if I was in the army again.

  “Ventrogluteal’s safer.”

  “I’ll mention it to management.” She collected her tray and left.

  * * *

  They put me in the same black room I tested in, which was comforting in a way. But the slide choices and the clickers were absent. In its place were a comfortable chair, a table with a soft lamp, and a bottle of water.

  “Caden?” a voice came over the speaker.

  “Good morning, Ronin.”

  “I just came by to say it’s great to have you.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Lee reviewed how you do it, right?”

  “In-out, in-out. Been doing it my whole life.”

  “The pacing is important,” he said. “And the depth of the breath.”

  “This isn’t meditation, is it?”

  “Not quite.”

  “Because I don’t have time for woo-woo bullshit, okay?”

  “This is not woo-woo bullshit.”

  “All right then.” I grasped the arms of the chair and the lamp dimmed.

  Ronin was replaced by a woman’s recorded voice. She repeated the same two syllables over and over.

  Soo-hoo.

  “This is ridiculous,” I grumbled.

  Soo-hoo.

  “She’s like a mating bird.”

  The speaker clicked on, and another voice came over the cooing woman. “Just try to relax.”

  Fine.

  I would relax.

  For Greysen.

  I could do this for Greysen twice a week. I’d given up too much to be in that room, and half a self-conscious effort wouldn’t reward my sacrifice or hers.

  Soo-hoo.

  I breathed in at soo and out at hoo, starting over without holding either inhale or exhale.

  Soo-hoo.

  The voice faded into the hiss of my breath, folding like a map into my consciousness.

  Soo-hoo. Soo-hoo. Soo-hoo.

  Something inside me trembled.

  And shook.

  And tried to break but couldn’t.

  On the fourth session, I came to a terrifying well of despair, but the tape stopped and the light went bright before I touched it.

  It always did.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  GREYSEN

  LATE FEBRUARY, 2007

  “Thank you for meeting me,” Tina said as she sat down behind the shiny conference table.

  Outside, the western sky dimmed into a burning rust color. Dots of headlights crawled along Fifth Avenue, and the green of the park turned gray.

  When we shook hands, my sleeve hiked up. Caden had tied me up three days before, and the bruises had just faded down to yellow.

  Like a teacher who called on you for the one answer you didn’t know, Tina’s eyes fell on the discoloration inside my arm, safely an inch below the wrist. She couldn’t know the pains he’d taken to make sure he didn’t pinch the nerve. Nor could she know the most pleasurable pain didn’t come from the ties.

  “I had a cancellation, so it worked out,” I said, ignoring the question in her eyes.

  “The board’s pretty interested in this.”

  “It’s hot in here.” She took off her jacket. “Do you want some water?”

  “I’m good.” I opened the folder and handed her a copy of the proposal with my inner wrist facing the table. “I put in your revisions. I think it’s ready for the board.”

  She nodded and scanned the pages. “I think so too.”

  * * *

  “Hey.” I had my phone pressed to my ear as I walked down an empty stairway. The walls were bright white with black scuffs. I’d waited at the elevator, but I had too much energy. I didn’t wait for Caden to greet me. “I just met Tina. She loved it. And I mean loved with a capital L and a heart for an O. She wants me to present it to the board and tell her what kind of position I want!”

  Full time? Advisory? Did I want to stay in private practice? Any kind of hybrid? The options were overwhelming and thrilling. So many doors had opened, I couldn’t count them.

  “That’s wonderful,” he replied.

  I slowed my run. He had been his one true self when he’d kissed me good-bye in the morning. But he wasn’t now. It was creeping back. No one would notice but me. He sounded so close to normal, maybe a little tired, but he was in the beginning of Damon’s cycle.

  I stopped on a landing. There was going to be a course correction. “W
here are you?”

  “In my office. I just got out of the OR.”

  “What floor is that on?”

  “Where are you, Major?”

  “Between seven and eight. On the stairs.”

  “Meet me on six.”

  I hung up. My heels clattered and echoed off the metal steps and stark walls.

  The door to the sixth floor slapped open, and he was there. Clean-shaven for cutting day. Collar open to the edges of the hair on his chest. Thick watch setting the boundary for the precision of his hands. Eyes of cold, dark sapphire that would get darker and colder very soon.

  He reached out as I came to the last step and kissed me. Possessed me. Devoured me. I had so much to say, but I was consumed in that kiss.

  “It’s working,” I said when I could breathe. “You’re holding.”

  “I know. I know. We were down to eighteen hours. Now it’s three days.”

  “Three whole days.”

  He squeezed me so hard I left the floor and only let go enough to kiss me again. “I just want a minute to kiss you like this. Taste you before I get taken over.”

  I forgot about the sleeves and the bruises. About the meeting with Tina and what she’d offered at the end.

  He was in there with me, kissing my mouth and my neck like a starving man. Nothing else mattered. Nothing.

  He put hands on both sides of my face and yanked himself away.

  “I love you,” he said through his teeth as if carving it in his mind.

  “Three days.”

  “Then five. Then a week.” I hooked my hands at his elbows and touched his forehead with mine. “I never thought I’d be grateful to Ronin for anything in my life.”

  “It’s changing fast though.”

  “Tonight then.” I couldn’t help but smile.

  “When this is all over—” He kissed my lips, flicking his tongue inside them. “When I’m normal again, I’m not going to stop.”

  “Stop what?”

  He kissed my face between every act. “Tying you down. Spanking you. Hurting you. Pushing you. Owning you. Marking you.”

  “Deal.” I pushed him away, and his face darkened as if the change was coming in with a tide.

  “Be naked when I get home.”

  * * *

  “I’ll be there in five minutes,” he said over the phone as I paced the living room. “Are you naked?”

  “Yes. I’m ready.”

  “I’m going to destroy you whether you’re ready or not.”

  He hung up.

  My plan was to get destroyed, then before he went cold again, we would talk about my options with the hospital and my practice. I couldn’t figure out how to manage the time. Many doctors melded the two; I didn’t know how. The normal Caden would know what to do. The man who was coming home was a trusted keeper of my body and my orgasms, but my career was off-limits.

  Passing the mirror by the front door, I stopped. My hair draped over my shoulders like a veil. I pulled it into a twist and over one shoulder.

  Three days.

  The time between episodes was getting longer. The crescent of light that glowed when the dark eclipsed the light had gotten slimmer and slimmer. Totality never came. The moon was already moving away from the sun.

  There was a knock at the front door, and I froze. Why didn’t he come in?

  Did he want me to open the door naked onto 87th Street?

  The satin lining of my coat was cool on my back. I checked myself in the mirror and let the collar loose so it fell over my shoulders as I clutched the placket together at my breast. I opened the door. Colin stood under the front light.

  “Jesus, Colin!”

  “You invited me for dinner. Where are you g—?” He stopped himself when he saw my bare feet, then he raised an eyebrow at me, a smile curling one side of his mouth.

  “Not tonight.”

  I tried to close the door in his face, but he held it open. “Are you all right?”

  I got the coat up around me. “I double-booked. Sorry. We have to get dinner another time.”

  “Sis. What’s going on?”

  “My husband’s getting home for the first time after days of back-to-back surgery. I’d like to spend my evening doing what married people do, not letting my brother continually ask what’s wrong, okay?”

  The gears in his head turned. Behind him, people walked the street below. I was a woman in a coat talking to a man on my stoop.

  What I wouldn’t have done for a porch and a driveway.

  “Fine, I get it. You two. Jesus.” He shook his head.

  “Tomorrow,” I called when he was halfway down the steps.

  “Sure, sure.”

  He opened the front gate just as Caden approached with a stride and a face stiffened with jealousy. It turned into a charming smile when Colin turned and Caden could see him. They shook hands. I went inside and closed the door but didn’t lock it. When Caden came in, I was on the couch in my coat.

  He locked the door. Looking at me, he tossed his keys onto the table. His beeper. His wallet. The bulge in his pants was distracting me, but not him. He was slow and deliberate, as if nothing could rush a man without feelings.

  He put his jacket on a hook and came to me, rolling up his sleeves.

  I shook off the coat. He undid his buckle, metal clicking on metal.

  I’d never seen him like this. He was as stone cold and far away as he’d ever been. I didn’t know he could be this far inside himself.

  And yet, he was still the guy in the stairway. The man who was afraid he would hurt me.

  He looped the belt, holding the ends in his fist. “Don’t flinch.”

  He tapped the loop of the belt in his palm, looking between my legs. My breath picked up, getting shallower and faster.

  He slapped the inside of my thigh with the leather, and I flinched before it struck, then gritted my teeth from the raw sting, twisting with my knees together.

  “You’re afraid,” he said, “and you’re turned on.”

  “Yes.”

  “You think those two things might be related? “We do this thing every time. I hurt you or I control you, then I lose it for a second, and boom, I’m back to normal until I’m not anymore. Right?”

  “Yes.”

  He kneeled between my legs.

  “What I thought today on the way here was, why do I rush to that middle part?” Then he pressed four fingers flat against his mouth and licked them. “Why? When you like getting hurt so much? What’s a limit if you can’t push it?”

  He hit me with the belt. The pain was extraordinary, exquisite, nearly unbearable, and so was the explosion of pleasure.

  My body expanded, taking up the entire room in electricity and heat, but I didn’t explode. The detonator got warm but didn’t blow.

  “Has it occurred to you I have no significant war trauma because my desire to hurt you is trauma enough?”

  “Correlation,” I said breathlessly. “Not cause.”

  He stood over me like a tower pushing up against the limits of the ceiling. “You’re saying I’m not traumatized by my own needs, but that they just happen to correlate to this disaster of a marriage?”

  Disaster of a marriage?

  That was an ice-cold knife in my gut. Through everything, neither of us had labeled our union as anything but a buoy in a rough sea. The one stable, invariable thing through his ever-changing mental state.

  I put my legs down. “What did you just say?”

  “Don’t worry about it. Really, Greysen. Tomorrow, I’ll wake up in love again. Ready to conquer the world with my woman. Et cetera, et cetera.” He put his hands on my knees and pressed them open slowly. I resisted. “But when you look at it objectively, and really, I’m the objective one here, this is a nightmare.” He jerked my knees apart with more strength than I had to keep them closed. I fell back. “And you’re feeding it.”

  He wedged himself between my open legs and pulled down his zipper.

  “Are you angr
y?” In this state, he usually didn’t feel anything. If he was angry, it was a step in the right direction.

  “No.”

  Seeking leverage in soft cushions, I tried to get up to a sitting position. “There’s a name for this. For you.”

  “I’ve been called an asshole already.”

  “Not asshole. Something clinical.”

  “Really, baby?”

  “Sadist.”

  “No, no. That’s—”

  “Your father. And you.”

  He thrust into me. “I wasn’t like this until you.” He pushed so deep it hurt.

  “You were too weak to see it.” I looked deeply into the firmament behind his eyes. “Sadist.”

  He twisted me, pinning my right arm under my own weight and my left behind my back, fucking me as though he wanted to push through me. “You made this monster. How do you like it?”

  Did I create this? Did he become what I wanted?

  Did it matter?

  “Sadist.” I squeaked it one last time before his hands found my throat.

  He bent me harder, pushing on my windpipe to growl in my ear. “Is this what you wanted?”

  “Yes.” I was choking.

  “You like the monster I’ve become?”

  “I love it.” Barely a breath.

  “I knew it.” His fingers tightened.

  I was handing him my life and my sex and my orgasm with both hands. I’d fantasized about this since I was a girl and finally… I had only a single breath to use to stop him.

  “I love you,” I croaked before he cut my air off completely.

  In my last gasps, the orgasm detonated. Hot shrapnel pinged off the shell of my skin, stinging my armor from the inside, fighting for life, stiffening with pleasure as I looked into two holes punched through a rigid, red face, open to the blue Iraqi sky.

  And black.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  greysEn

  His face, briefly.

  His lips on mine, briefly.

  Then a breath like breathing charcoal.

  Burn.