“We’re clear,” I said. And I regretted agreeing before the words had ever left my mouth. He didn’t know what he was getting himself into. I wasn’t sure of it myself.
---
The next morning I arrived at his home fresh off a good night’s sleep and a balanced breakfast. Both were rare occurrences for me. Bill graciously welcomed me with a fresh pot of coffee and led me back into his office. I made myself at home on his big comfy couch and prepared for the moment I had awaited my entire life. I was finally seeking the professional help I needed. This should have been done years ago. Better late than never.
“I feel ridiculous doing this,” I said. I wasn’t sure how else to begin.
“Well, let’s start with that.”
“Ok,” the self doubt was building a mountain so high I could barely get the words out. My silence weighted the air with heavy tension. I felt like an awkward teen-aged girl. I kept shifting my eyes from his stupid beautiful face to the ridiculously exotic carpet that covered the glistening hard wood floors. I tried to focus on something. I needed some sort of distraction and nothing in the room was doing it for me.
“Jolene, the way this generally works is that you reveal something about yourself or your struggles and a conversation ensues. But you must start somewhere.”
“I know,” I replied. “I’m wondering where to begin. “
“Anywhere,” he said.
“I guess, I guess I should start about twenty years ago, back when I was six years old.” I stopped suddenly. I was just about to continue speaking when I felt a strange weight on my chest and it became increasingly difficult to breathe. I looked up and Bill looked back at me befuddled. The room began to whirl around slowly and then with a sudden quickness and then everything muddled into blackness.
----
When I finally came to I could tell I was still at Bill’s, but I wasn’t sure if it made me feel better or worse. I woke with my head in Bill’s lap as he held a soothing towel around the top of my head. He wore strong musky cologne. The type men wore to entice women. I wished he’d worn something else. He didn’t know the danger he put himself in smelling so damn good. The room was dark, except for a few dim candles and when I finally lifted myself off him, what I thought had been the living room had turned into a bedroom.
I rubbed my eyes. “Is this… is this where you sleep?” I asked.
Bill looked amused. “Yes, this is where I sleep Jolene.”
“You’re room is so…sexy,” I blurted out. The words left my lips before I could stop myself. My cheeks flushed and I looked away from him, shoving my chin into my left shoulder. I couldn’t look at him out of sheer embarrassment. I tried to focus on the scenery.
We sat in an enormously high black four-post bed covered in a red plush duvet. The flames of red-apple scented candles danced atop every piece of black furniture he had in the room. There were more mini tables, night -stands, dressers and wardrobes than any man truly needed. Each held two or three candles releasing that sweet sugary smell that reminded me how hungry I was.
“How do you feel? I was worried you might not wake up,” Bill asked.
“I’m fine. I’m just a little groggy. Did I pass out?”
“Jolene we hadn’t even begun our session and you fainted,” he sat with a bent knee looking at me with strange curiosity. “Whatever it is you need to share, I must say…it must be pretty inter-“
“It is,” I interrupted. “I mean, it’s not good. But it isn’t simple or boring. I’m not the good person you might think I am. It’s complicated and…” I couldn’t go on. I wanted to tell him everything and I would, just not here. Not like this.
Sitting in a bed with a man I very much wanted to have sex with and kill was all too much for me. Self control wasn’t my thing. It was better not to test myself. We could both work on this together but that wouldn’t help me now. I slowly lifted the heavy duvet off myself and shifted over to the edge of the bed.
“Wait,” he said firmly. He made his way over to my side of the bed and slowly assisted me down the two tiny steps that were required to come off the bed. He’d held each of my hands in both of his own until both of my feet touched down onto the shiny wooden floors. “Jolene, you just fainted. Could you be just a little more careful? I don’t want you to hurt yourself.” How sweet, he was genuinely concerned for my well being. All I could think about was how fast or slow to run a knife through his neck and here he was trying to care for me. The thought saddened me.
His hand lingered delicately just over the small of my back as he led me from his bedroom down the long twisted stairwell and into the kitchen. I was fine. I could walk on my own but he insisted. He knew what he was doing. He was dazzling me with his chivalry but it was unnecessary. He’d already dazzled me more than enough and I didn’t believe he could undo the spell-like attraction I felt towards him.
“You must be hungry,” he offered. He opened a large double door stainless-steel refrigerator and started to pull out an assortment of different foods.
I looked outside the kitchen window and noticed the lack of sunlight and was hit with a sudden panic, “How long was I out for?”
“Well it’s just about nine p.m. so you slept almost a good twelve hours. Like I said, I was beginning to worry. What’s wrong?” he continued to gather eggs, and cheese and a bunch of other different foods.
“Where’s my phone? I need my phone,” I demanded.
“It’s right on the couch where you left it. Jesus, what’s wrong with you? Why are you so angry?”
I didn’t answer him. I grabbed my purse off the couch and rummaged through it to find my phone. A few more missed calls from my mother and a couple of missed texts from Eric, Olivia and Ramos. Eric was just checking in and Olivia was trying to figure out if we would ever speak again. I hadn’t the slightest idea as to what Ramos would want but it would have to wait.
I texted Eric then and there and he responded almost immediately that he was watching basketball with a bunch of his buddies. I sighed with relief and threw myself onto one of chairs at the kitchen table. I was grateful that Eric wasn’t wondering about my whereabouts. As long as he kept busy he wouldn’t question much. Which was perfect considering I couldn’t really explain where I was or who I was with all day. I’d never be able to explain and even if I told the truth he wouldn’t believe it. The less he asked the less I had to lie. Funny how our relationship always came down to don’t ask, don’t tell.
“Is everything alright,” Bill asked.
“Yes, everything is fine,” I said. “I just had a momentary freak out. I can’t believe I was out the whole day. What did you do while I slept?”
Bill turned on the stove and started cooking eggs and bacon and the whole nine yards. I really didn’t know much of what he was doing as I hadn’t the slightest idea how to cook anything myself. Coffee and tea cumulatively made up my culinary repertoire. Oh and I could make a mean Margarita. But I was pretty sure that didn’t count as cooking. Coffee counted though. It had to, or else I was completely useless.
“I watched you sleep for a while,” he turned around and flashed a big smile. “You’re adorable when you sleep,” he said returning his attention to the task at hand. “But inevitably, I got bored and read a book and answered a few emails.”
“You watched me sleep? No that’s not creepy at all,” I joked.
“Ha-Ha,” he responded playfully.
I watched him till he was finished and we ate together quietly on the kitchen island. The food was delicious and I told him so. He thanked me graciously for the compliment and I wished so hard that I didn’t have to leave. But I couldn’t stay forever. It just wasn’t right. He had a life and I’d taken more of his day than he had bargained for.
“How do you feel about another session, possibly?” I asked nervously. I hoped he wasn’t having second thoughts about wanting to treat me.
“I think it’s absolutely necessary. Jolene, today I saw that you have some deep underlying issues
that need resolution. These things can’t be addressed in one or two sessions. I thought you understood that this would be a long-term treatment plan. We haven’t yet scraped the first layer.”
I internally sung high praises for my new doctor. He was willing to work with me and it was more than I could ask for.
Chapter 26
The massive workload I had to do this week felt more and more like a blessing in disguise. It served as the perfect distraction as all I wanted was to put that day at the sauna as far from my mind as humanly possible. How far away I could send that memory wasn’t entirely clear but I hoped somewhere along the lines of amnesia was possible. I wanted to forget. I needed to forget.
I found I had a new found understanding and sympathy of alcoholism and those it claimed as its victims. I had more than my fair share of forgettable moments in my lifetime and the passage of time had forced me to understand alcohol’s ability to just make memories fade into a far off abyss. I doubted its ability to make me forget this though. My tried and true method of coping was murder and no amount of vodka, tequila or whiskey would change that. Too much booze would cramp my lifestyle.
Nor would there ever be enough paper work to fill my need of complete and utter avoidance of Olivia, but it would do for now. I’d been dodging her calls for over a week. Not to mention, the calls I avoided from my mother, Derek, Ramos, even a few from Eric. Though, I always called Eric at the end of the day and would talk for a while. He was my rock and I couldn’t face the world without him consoling me like a father to a child. Olivia used to help me see the brighter side of things too. Those days were out the window now. She wouldn’t be able to fill those voids for me anymore.
It pained me deeply to know that I just could no longer look at her the same way as before. In a way, I’d had sex with one of my best friends and there had always been a line that I had chosen not to cross. And for good reason. In one fell swoop we went from the best of friends to not being able to stand the sight of each other. I spoke for myself of course. I couldn’t even begin to speculate as to what that girl was thinking. That day was one to be forgotten as soon as possible and never spoken of again.
I happily recalled the countless men I’d murdered. I shut my eyes and felt the many tiny specs of blood as they slapped onto my face. It was euphoric. I relished the smell of blood as it hit the air and turned it into a coppery odor. I loved the feeling as blood glided through my fingers and through my hair. Those acts enlivened my senses. The surge of power was too much to handle.
But allowing Olivia to do what she had done and what I had forced those innocent boys to do was not only shameful, it was horrendous. It was the exact opposite to my happy murder memories. Even if I felt like they may have deserved a smidgen of what they got, and even if they willingly performed those acts, I was disgusted with myself. I should have known better. In fact, I did know better. I felt more remorse for my actions that day than for any of the days before it. My moral compass must have been a bit off kilter. Twisted, I know. But it was the truth.
I felt so dirty. I couldn’t so much as look in a mirror without an overwhelming revulsion taking over. A thousand showers could not wash the filth that was that day. It would be forever emblazoned in my memory as the worst mistake I had ever made. After the whole debacle, after the dust had cleared and time had turned night to day again, there was only one thing my evil twisted existence wished to do. I wanted to kill Olivia.
The impulse to kill her delivered itself to me the moment after orgasm as I saw her rise from in between my legs with my cum dripping from the bottom of her smiling face. She smiled with pride. Undeservedly so. I could have been wrong. She could have felt something completely different but I wasn’t about to sit and dissect her every expression. I simply didn’t care that much. I felt only brewing anger that she wasn’t expelling copious amounts of blood from her neck.
I had hoped the passing of time would deter me from wanting to kill her. I thought if I just waited one more day. And then another and another, that the feeling to kill her would dissipate into nothingness and all would go back to normal. I’d finally lost all hope and feared the worst.
Those sinister thoughts were setting a faster pace within me than I had hoped for. I feared my own self. I wanted so badly not to hurt her. But my mind and my heart were in two very different places. I never understood that sentiment until now. It had always seemed so childish. I always thought that if you had something you needed to do you would just do it. When you’re a killer though, when you spend your time either killing or thinking about killing, there’s only one real remedy to any issues at hand. Kill. Sorry, there’s just no way around it.
My mind held no warmth or sympathy. It held only selfish pleasure and pain.
On the other hand, my heart desperately sought to fight every cell that wanted to chop her up. If only my heart had the power to alter the ferocity of my instincts. Perhaps if I had a fully-functioning heart it might have had the power to override my mind on my next course of action. Unfortunately for me, I had never received a fully working heart and was thus never capable of feeling much of anything for anyone. Yes of course I could love things just like anyone else, as long as they fit the mold and worked in my favor. Olivia was no longer in favor. Such a tragedy.
My phone rang again. I didn’t have time for a long conversation with my mother. It would have to wait till tomorrow. I sped out the door and headed on over to Olivia’s house.
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I must have changed my mind a half a dozen times on the trip over to Olivia’s place. I played a mental ping pong of sorts on whether or not to go through with it. But I just kept driving. She had been my friend for numerous years and she was a person I would miss if she were gone for a considerable amount of time. There were few people besides family I could truly say that about.
On the other hand, we had crossed some sort of threshold that would never be uncrossed. I knew myself, and the longer I waited and bottled it all up, the bigger the explosion would be later on. I kept driving. Olivia was a pusher. It was in her nature to push and push and just when she thought she’d pushed you to the brink, she’d push you some more. Only this time, we pushed at each other too hard and brought each other too far out. In fact, she had pushed her own self off of my list of people that I couldn’t kill.
I thought about my next moves as I continued the drive towards her home. I didn’t take this mission lightly. She lived about half hour away in the small town of Nutley, New Jersey. It was nice and quiet and bordered the town I had grown up in as a child. Overgrown trees lined most of the streets and small children could always be spotted playing in any of the numerous dead-end streets. There were so many dead-end streets in this town. I had often wondered why.
The main street consisted of more small town bars and liquor stores than a small town of this size really needed. Oh sure, there were plenty of restaurants mixed in with salons alongside one too many cell phone stores. Each of which were all small businesses struggling just to stay open. As the years went on though, they all managed to stay in business. Albeit, just barely.
The sun shone heavily and the hoards of teeny boppers roamed the streets endlessly walking in no particular direction. They moved in masses across the heavily trafficked streets, slowly, making sure to halt traffic as much as possible. I had forgotten that Nutley released its students for lunch and so for one hour, all of Nutley High school and Middle school students were released into the wild to do whatever it was that teenagers did. I loathed teenagers. Even as I grew up to be one, I still abhorred the very essence that was a teenager. I guess for a while, I must have even hated myself.
I managed to maneuver through the slow traffic and finally reached Olivia’s apartment building down at the end of one of those dreaded dead ends. It wasn’t a large apartment building as it held only 8 apartments. It was quiet though. Too quiet for Olivia to be home. I eyed the scenery and noticed I was the only car on the block. Nutley was a quiet little town. E
ven more so, after you removed yourself from the hustle and bustle of the main avenue. Its main inhabitants in the complex and across town were old retired folks living out the long final days of their miserable lives.
Olivia lived in one of the first floor apartments. Good for her. After all those nights partying like it was 1999 I figured it would have been difficult for her to truck up a long flight of stairs. She probably would have killed herself, I thought. Then maybe I wouldn’t be here doing it myself. I smiled. I wanted to laugh but I smiled. A laugh would have been too disrespectful, even if I would be the only one to know about it.
I forced myself through the short walk up to the main entrance of her apartment building and attempted to once again, think of a reason not to do this. I wanted a reason to keep her alive. Something, anything. But I only grew more excited at the thought of killing again. But we’d been friends for such a long time. That was supposed to mean something. It was the type of friendship that starts out strong and never loses steam. Olivia had been at my college graduation, even though she went to the same school and wouldn’t graduate herself. Too many frat houses with copious amounts of booze derailed Olivia’s academic career pretty quickly. She wasn’t upset about it and so I hadn’t been either.
I attended all three of her weddings and was the maid of honor in each one of them. I had given my unwanted opinion just before each and every ceremonial walk down the aisle. But as usual, she was steadfast in her decisions and I, always the dutiful friend, supported her irrational decisions. Olivia loved hard and if after every drunken stupor she wanted to get hitched, I would stand next to her and hold her hair so she wouldn’t throw up all over the cheap off-white gown she’d chosen. It was her life, who was I to judge? I was no model citizen myself.
All of Her Men Page 17