Tortured Whispers

by Danielle James

  Fuck.

  I caught the slip up immediately.

  “Your brother had a daughter, right?” Ronnie quizzed.

  “Yeah, Brooklyn,” I answered.

  “Is that the eighteen-year-old you’re living with?”

  “Yeah. I didn’t realize the session started already.” I cleared my throat and shifted in my seat.

  “Easy, Cease. You know I’m here to help,” he reminded me.

  “I know, I know.” I calmed down a bit and exhaled to settle my frayed nerves.

  “You already know what I’m going to ask you, so let’s hear the answer.” Ronnie laced his fingers together and looked at me.

  “You want to know why I didn’t refer to Brook as my niece especially during a time of grieving.” I shut my eyes and tried to force images of Brook’s naked body writhing and moaning beneath me, from my mind.

  “Exactly, so…why didn’t you? Was it a simple slip up? Do you resent having her in your home?”

  “No, not at all. Quite the opposite. I love having her there.” My heart knocked faster and harder in my chest.

  “Okay then…maybe it was a slip-up. Now, tell me how you’ve been feeling since Anthony’s death,” he said.

  “Guilty…empty,” I shrugged and looked at the floor.

  “Where’s the guilt coming from?” Ronnie asked, scribbling down more things on his pad of paper.

  “The night before Ant died, we got into an argument. I never got to apologize. I never got to make it right.” Regret colored my tone. I rubbed my forehead with the heel of my hand and sighed. “To have someone I loved so much jerked away from me in the middle of a frivolous argument…It fucking hurts. It’s the most bitter pain I’ve ever experienced. I didn’t even get to say goodbye.” Pain struck my chest. I hated everything about the way Ant died.

  “Why don’t you tell me what the argument was about?” Ronnie said in a hushed tone.

  “It was about him keeping things from me and his daughter. He’d been taking heart medication for…I don’t know how long. He kept it from me. He kept it from Brook. He knew I’d worry but that’s not enough reason to keep something so huge given how our father died.” Heat rushed the back of my neck and I rubbed it, willing the heat away.

  “How did your father die?” Ronnie’s fingers moved nimbly across the pad of paper as he took notes. I forced my stare away from his words and focused on my hands. I hated reliving how my father died.

  “He had a heart attack,” I began slowly. “I-I found him in his room, in bed.” I didn’t want to go too deep into the memory. It hurt too much. It hurt twice as much after Ant died.

  “So your father and brother both died in similar ways?”

  “Yeah,” I nodded.

  “How old were you and Anthony when your father died?” Ronnie probed.

  “I was sixteen and Ant was twenty-one,” I answered.

  “How old were you when your mother died?”

  “I was eleven and Ant was sixteen.” I pushed images of my parents out of my head because if I conjured them up then I’d conjure the pain that came with their absences.

  “So, Anthony became kind of like your father after you two lost your dad. I assume you stayed with him, correct?” He quizzed.

  “Yeah, I did. He was like my second father. I should have never picked that fight with him,” I said.

  “Cease, your argument with Anthony was a trauma response to you finding out he was keeping his heart condition a secret. You felt betrayed, right?”

  “Yeah, exactly. Still, I knew he had a heart condition and I fought with him. It was stupid,” I frowned.

  “It wasn’t based on logical thoughts. It was a direct response to past trauma.” I let his words sink in then I replayed them. He was right.

  I lashed out like an angry teenager when I found out Ant was sick. I could have been more compassionate but I wasn’t reacting like a rational adult. I looked at my watch and stood to my feet. It was time for me to get to work.

  “Ronnie, thanks, man. I can’t believe I overlooked the fact that I was responding to past trauma,” I sighed.

  “When things are right on top of us, we don’t see them. That’s what a neutral party is for.” We slapped hands and I told him I’d stop by again once my day was done. I wanted to brief him on Brook before she had her first session.

  **

  The end of my day came up quicker than I’d anticipated. My time got eaten up with new patients and the endless mountains of paperwork I had to review and fill out. I was so anxious to get home to Brook that I nearly forgot I was supposed to stop by and talk to Ronnie bout her.

  I found my way to his office and knocked before walking in. He was done with patients for the day as well. He offered me a seat and said, “Okay, Cease, tell me about your niece.”

  I sat on the couch and checked my watch. I had about twenty minutes to get home before I could see Brook. I hoped her second day was better than her first. I wanted to see her smile.

  “Brooklyn…” I fought the smile trying to find its way to my face. “She’s a beautiful girl. She’s eclectic and funny. She’s also brilliant. She’s troubled though. She has anxiety and depression.”

  “How bad are we talking?” Ronnie frowned.

  “Moderate to severe with self-harm and possible suicidal tendencies. She needs patience, Ronnie. She needs to be heard.” Even though I was nervous letting anyone else talk to Brook, she needed it. She needed it more than I needed to protect her.

  He nodded in response and wrote down some notes. “I’ll see her tomorrow. She’s in good hands, Cease. I believed him. Ronnie was an amazing psychologist and he bucked the norms of our field. If anyone would know how to handle Brook in a gentle manner, it would be him.

  Before I went home, I decided to pick up something for Brook in case she had a shitty day at school. I wanted to get her something that would let her know she was beautiful no matter what her brain told her to think. I knew she was fighting some serious demons and I wanted to help.

  I was determined to help.

  **

  Brooklyn…

  The end of the school day crept up slower than a goddamn sloth. I wanted out of San Marino High School. I wanted to get away from the scratchy way everyone’s presence made me feel. I wanted to cover my ears and shut out the constant drum of noise created by useless conversations.

  I wanted to be back at home with Cease.

  He was my safe haven.

  He was my protector.

  He was like a lion and loving him was just as dangerous.

  I moved through the hallway toward the main doors when I heard someone shouting. “Hey! Wait up!” I slowed my pace and glanced over my shoulder. Surely nobody could be calling out to me. I was invisible. A nobody amongst somebodies. I didn’t even fit in enough to stand out. I just disappeared.

  I froze when I saw Ashley jogging toward me. I paused in the middle of a rush of students making their way out of the school and I got knocked around.

  “Move! Stop being so fucking retarded!” A deep voice grunted at me and I cringed. I hated that word. Fucking loathed it. My skin crawled whenever it was hurled at me. I shrank my shoulders in and tucked my chin.

  “Fuck you, asshole!” Ashley shouted at the guy then she flipped him off and put her hand on my shoulder, moving me off to the side. “Sorry about that. Sometimes these motherfuckers are rude.” She adjusted her bright pink book bag on her shoulders and smiled at me.

  Why wasn’t I pretty like her?

  “So, um…Brooklyn, right?” She asked.

  “Yeah,” I whispered. My eyes darted around then landed on the shiny tiled floor beneath my feet.

  “Listen, I wanted to apologize for what happened in ninth grade. I was being such a bitch. We graduate this year so I wanna make it up to you. Friends?” She held out her hand and I studied the smooth skin on her forearm and wrist. Not one cut. Not one tortured whisper leaving a scar on her pale skin.

  My throat constricted
and my cheeks flushed with heat. I was such a fuck up. Why did I scar up my arms? They used to look normal Ashley’s once upon a time.

  “Hey, Brookie. Friends? Let me get your number so I can text you. We can hang out.” She grinned at me and held out her hand again. I looked at it still mesmerized.

  Did she say she wanted to be friends?

  All I ever fucking wanted were friends. I nodded my head and shook her hand. I was immediately self-conscious of my long sleeves and thumb holes. What if she felt that the bottom of my sleeve was damp? She’d think I was gross. I should have given her my other hand.

  So fucking stupid, Brooklyn.

  I reached in my pocket and grabbed my phone. It nearly slipped between my fingers because my hands were slick with worry. With shaky fingers, I put Ashley’s number in my phone.

  Hers was only the fourth phone number in my contacts. I put my phone to sleep quickly and shoved it back in my pocket, avoiding Ashley’s gaze. “Cool, I’ll text you later, okay?” She smiled again and it was so bright and cheery.

  “O-Okay,” I stammered. “Bye.” My feet steered me toward my car and once I was inside, I let out a rush of air. The silence all around me started to push the water into my head and down my throat.

  I sputtered with a cough and gripped the steering wheel for something tangible to hold on to. If I were holding on to something, I wouldn’t drown or float away.

  Why couldn’t I breathe?

  I’d wanted friends ever since I could remember and being Ashley’s friend was the ultimate. Yet I still felt plagued. My shoulders slumped with invisible weight and my neck ached, making it difficult to turn my head.

  I drove home with the windows down even though a storm was rolling in and rain started to fall from the dense clouds. I needed the air. I needed the air to force itself into my lungs because they were filling up with water instead.

  A cry of relief wobbled from my tight throat when I pulled up at home and saw Caesar’s car in the driveway and lights on in the house.

  He was home.

  He would save me.

  I stumbled up to the house and tried to unlock the door but my keys clattered to the front porch. My breathing was so shallow I was starting to work up a sweat trying to inhale. I was practically kneeling on the porch.

  When the front doors swung open, I scrambled up Caesar’s long legs and fused myself with him in a tight hug. “Hey, what’s wrong, Brook?” His strong arms held me tight, just like I needed. They forced the water out of my lungs. When he guided me inside the house, my knees loosened far too much to hold my weight and I crumpled against him.

  “Brook, talk to me. Are you drowning?” He knew. He fucking knew. My heart thumped to life.

  “Yes,” I cried. Cease took me into the bedroom and we sat on the floor. His hands were smooth and cool against my cheeks as he cupped them. His lips were gentle and feathery on my hot forehead.

  I missed him when he moved across the room, but when I saw him pull out the boombox and tapes, a pained laugh fell from my lips. I loved that man more than words would ever be able to express. He played Hall and Oates and sat on the floor, holding me, kissing my temple and drawing invisible hearts on my scarred arms.

  “I love you,” I whispered.

  “I love you too. You ready to talk about it?” He met my lips with his and I slid my tongue into his mouth, hungry for the sensation he injected into my bloodstream. I was clearheaded, the water was gone and pleasure started to creep in on me.

  It curled around me like dense cords, coiling and tightening until I was wrapped completely in its grasp. My body tingled as I climbed on top of him. I wanted him inside of me immediately.

  He wanted it too.

  His dick stiffened beneath me and I turned ravenous. I pulled my shirt off and Cease unsnapped my bra tossing it to the side. His tongue and teeth found my nipples and drew moans from the pit of me. I loved when he bit me.

  I loved every flash of pain…every jolt that pushed through my body. The pain Caesar gave me didn’t burn like my cuts. It burned deeper. It sank into my marrow and smoldered.

  When I felt his dick slide between my pussy lips, I shuddered against him. I’d never been on top before but nerves didn’t rule me for once. For once, I was pushed by the desperate need to connect to him.

  “I can be on top, Brook,” he said.

  “No, I want to ride you,” I said, panting through dry lips that were parched from my rapid breathing. Cease’s slick hands slid over my skin and I tipped my head back as he pushed against me again.

  I lifted up and eased him inside of me with a slow groan. Once he was deep inside, fire rained down around us. I had no fucking idea what I was doing. It felt so good though. I rocked my hips until the need to go faster took over making me bounce on top of him.

  “Like that?” I asked, looking down at his beautiful eyes.

  “Just like that, Brook. Fuck.” His strong fingertips dug into my hips, then my ass as he held on for dear life. I wanted the pressure from his grip to bruise me. I didn’t give a fuck.

  I rode Caesar like I’d been doing it my entire life. Like I was made for him. Sweat rolled down my spine, it dotted his brow, and it covered us as the heat passed back and forth. I leaned down to kiss him so I could slow down.

  “You feel so fucking good riding my dick, Brook,” he muttered against my mouth.

  “Do I?” I asked, needing to hear how I made him feel.

  “Yes, baby. You’re perfect.” He took my arm in his hand and kissed my scars. I trembled from the sentiment. The way he loved me was unmatched. He accepted every fucked up part of me and turned it into something beautiful.

  Cease dragged his tongue along my collarbones then up to my neck while he clutched my body close to him. His manly scent filled my nostrils and I moaned from the smell of him and the way his mouth felt on my hot skin.

  “Dammit, Brook. I’m about to cum. I can’t keep coming inside of you.” Our foreheads pressed together and I stared into his eyes, begging for him to empty into me. I loved the way it felt. So warm and full. So complete.

  “Please, Cease. I love when you cum inside of me.” Even saying those words had me buzzing with the need to climax. I slid my cunt up and down his shaft and he groaned. It mixed with my eager moans to create an erotic symphony.

  “Fuck, don’t say shit like that,” he pled with me. His dick jerked between my tight walls and I whimpered, moving my ass faster. “I gotta pull out,” he told me. I lifted up so he could slide out. His seed splashed across my flat stomach immediately. I watched his load slip down my skin with my bottom lip tucked between my teeth.

  The sight was so amazingly sexy.

  Caesar’s thick cock was still stiff and pulsing. The last bead of cum sat right on the tip of his dick. So I cleaned it for him. I slid my slippery pussy back down on his throbbing erection and he let out a barrage of colorful curse words. His hands turned to fists while I rode him painfully slow.

  My core ached and squeezed while we both moaned with immeasurable pleasure. Fuck. I never knew sex could feel so good.

  I wasn’t sure what happened but in the next second, Cease had my hair in his brutal grip as he pinned me to the floor. He was a madman. A wicked thrill sliced through my middle when I felt him penetrate me from behind.

  He fucked me so good. So deep. Every bone in my body sang with pleasure. His dick owned me from the inside out. Every thrust told me who I belonged to.

  My orgasm was quiet that time. It rolled over me like slow waves at the shore. My body tensed while I moaned Cease’s name against the carpet. He couldn’t escape coming inside of me that time and I’d be lying if I said a smirk didn’t dimple the corners of my mouth when I felt it.

  “You did that on purpose,” he grunted.

  “Did what?” I sat up, batting my lashes at him.

  “You knew riding my dick after I came was going to drive me insane.”

  “I didn’t know that but I’m glad it did,” I laughed then headed to
the bathroom to start the shower.

  I giggled when I felt his hands on my waist and his lips on my neck. I fucking giggled. Only happy people did shit like that. The thought tingled down to the soles of my feet.

  I was happy.

  **

  “I got you something,” Cease said. I couldn’t pry my eyes off his sculpted chest or the way remnants of shower water trickled down his abs. I didn’t even realize how hard I was biting my lip until I felt the sting. I blinked a few times and focused on the bag he was holding in front of my face.

  “What’s this?” I asked, scrambling toward it like a little kid at Christmas. I plucked it from his hand and dug in. I pulled out tank top after tank top. They were so pretty and soft. All different colors and patterns. I couldn’t stop running my hands over the fabric.

  “I got you some tank tops. I know it seems stupid but I wanted you to start feeling comfortable enough with yourself to wear them around the house at least. I want to see your arms. I want you to see your arms,” he said, pinning me with his gaze.

  “My arms are howwible,” I frowned, looking down at my marred skin.

  “They’re a part of your struggle. A struggle that has helped to create you.”

  “Yeah, maybe if I was over it but I’m not, Cease. I’m still a cutter.” I ran my fingers over the scars and tears welled in my eyes.

  “So what? You’re trying.” He touched my hand, then my scars. They twinged beneath his fingers.

  “I cut so bad the other night that I think I fucked something up in my arm, Cease. The night we first made love. I could barely make a fist. I was so scared.” My voice was a whisper. I avoided Caesar’s eyes because I knew what I would see.

  Pain.

  “What? Why didn’t you tell me? We can go to the doctor and get you checked out, Brooklyn,” he frowned.

  “Why? So they can see that I’m a cutter and give me pills to make me happy?”

  “No! So they can check your arm for nerve damage.” He forced my face to his and kissed away each sob that wracked me. “Baby, you have to come to me when you’re drowning. Don’t drown alone. Ever.”