No, it isn’t happening. I am not returning to my home without complete control over myself and the dire need inside of me.
I haven’t even begun to chip away at the shell that encases the beast, let alone face it head on. I am afraid of what will happen when the steely resolve crumbles to the floor and leaves me beneath the rubble, whilst every person I love and care for try their hardest to pull me from under.
“Calm yourself kid, think. Control, precision, you will fall on your arse if you let this beat you, I can assure you of that little fact.” The fucker has been pissing me off all week with his words of wisdom. How the fuck does he know what I’m going through? Sure he thinks like me, as does every other psychotic prick on this shitty earth, but it isn’t like he does anything about the crap he is living with.
“Yeah, because you're so in control of your own fucking life Marcus, how about take a leaf from your own fucking book and sort your own shit out before you start criticising every move I fucking well make.” Wrong move Leigh, wrong fucking move.
“Think you’re tough mate; think you’ve been through half of what I have? You would crumble, you would fucking break into a thousand tiny pieces if you had endured even an ounce of what I have. So you ask, why I don’t take a leaf from my own book. I’ll tell you why, because of Him, because of that old fucking cunt who controls every aspect of my shitty existence. You think it’s easy to just walk away? I’m not like you Leighton, I can’t just run away every time something happens that isn’t under my control. You need to face your problems Leighton, all this anger, hurt and self-hatred, it will keep building, manifesting inside of you and drowning you, to an extent you won’t be able to wake in the morning without the scent of blood around you. You really want that? You want to be waking up next to your wife, son and baby and the first thing you crave, instead of her warm tight cunt, is the warmth and scent of blood. You live and breathe it, it controls everything you are and you would do anything to just taste a few drops of the adrenaline and the erection it fucking gives you.” He starts pushing me, his hands firmly on my chest. “You fucking want that do you? You want to lose everything you fucking have? Because if that’s what you want Leighton Fucking Lock, then go, go kill people, go ruin everyone’s fucking life like you’re doing your own because right here and now I couldn’t care for your pussy-hole bullshit any longer, I have my own crap to deal with.” He breathes out harsh, his face mere centimetres from my own. His darkened eyes glare at me, making me cower. I think of everything he has said, about waking and not even caring for my wife, that is not what I want. I need to be there for her, Joseph and for Melissa at the very least.
“Sorry.” I apologise instinctively as though he has some strange power over me. It is fucking strange, I don’t apologise to anyone, well other than Abbi, but she has a firm fucking grip on my nuts that I know she won’t let go of until I do as she asks. Funny thing, being the Dominant one out of us, and in the bedroom she succumbs to my every need and desire, but outside I am like a fucking lapdog to her, at her beck and call, wanting to please her.
“Good, now, where do you want to go from here? You going to pull your head out of your arse and do as you’re goddamn told or am I dropping you off home where you will continue to ruin the best thing that ever happened to you?” I look at him intently, is he stupid? Of course I want to change, otherwise I would never have left my wife in such a vital time of her life.
I don’t need to answer; he sees it spread plainly across my face. “Good choice. Now we need to get to the route of your obsession. Mine's simple, I grew up with violence, saw enough bloodshed for it to be normal. I had so much hate for the world that feeling that fading of a life brought the greatest pleasure to me, it brings me power to make me feel like I am the boss in this world. I suppose my sexually dominant behaviour also stems from there too,” he admits to me and I relate to him, because from as early as I can remember, my father taught me there is no good on this earth, only hate, greed and violence.
I breathe heavily and then sigh, flopping to the floor and leaning my back against the plastered walls of the shed we’ve acquired for the past week.
“Kid, you have to let go of the past to even have a glimpse of a future. You will never truly rid yourself of this feeling, these demons, they’ll always be there just as any addiction is, but you can learn to control it and only, and I mean ONLY EVER KILL THE ONES WHO DESERVE TO DIE. Because believe me, there are plenty of them in this world. Aim for them, go for all those fuckers. Your job gives you enough opportunity to fulfil the need.” I nod and rest my head back against the wall.
I wipe my hands over my face, ridding myself of the sweat that has built up from fighting.
“It’s hard, you know. Trying to live as everyone else expects me to. Being told to calm myself when I’m on a job, to stop with the punches or to not cut someone so much. But, no one understands it, they don’t understand that I need to do that, to be able to go home sated and in control, I need to end somebody that way. It’s still there, after all the exercises you’ve taught me this week the need is still as strong and potent, I fear it will never leave me, that I am doomed and cursed to be alone, without the love of my family.” It is hard not to cry at that thought; losing Abbi will be the hardest thing yet. I have to use her as my muse, use her as my inspiration to better myself, because if I lose her, I might as well lose every drop of my humanity entirely.
“I know kid, trust me I get it. It still gets me, every now and then I let lose, let the beast out, but I reel him back in and get him in the cage before he stays out. It’s okay to fall back, we just have to know when to grasp the tethers of our real lives and pull ourselves back to solid ground. To be in control,” he advises me and I look to him like he is a guru or some shit.
“What if I don’t want to, what if I don’t want to be in control anymore? The pressure is too much. I can’t handle being the one everyone needs all the time, but no one ever being there to pick me up when I’m crumbling before them.” It has always been that way. I have always been the stupid naive kid who looks after everyone, even my siblings. I took beating after beating to save their arses, but no one, not even my own family were there for me when I lost everything. I was exiled like a piece of shit to grieve by myself.
“Leighton, it’s okay to drop the barriers. You don’t always have to be the one in control; there are others there to be strong for you. Let yourself go, let it out, and let yourself feel a little freedom.” He stands to his feet, dusting his trousers off as he does. “I’ve got an idea, but you’ll have to trust me okay? I think this might help. It always has done for the people I witness using it.” How many people has he helped to rehabilitate from their psycho lives?
I look at him once again with that questioning look on my face. “Trust me Leighton, I’ll make you forget, I’ll make it go away, even if just for a little while.” I take his outstretched palm, his strong body pulling me from the cold concrete floor.
Here goes nothing I tell myself as I follow his body through the building to his car.
“In you get,” he instructs me, as he points to his car.
“Where we going?” I ask him as I shuffle my big frame into the seat.
“You’ll see, but you have to trust me okay?” I am becoming concerned with all the talk of trusting him, what is he planning to do?
I soon catch on to his plan as he pulls into the car park of the club, turning the ignition off and shutting the lights off.
“I think it’s time you played the way you need to,” he tells me bluntly, and the thought of being in there excites me, well that is before the menacing darkened look to his eyes.
Abigail
Everyday has been the same, the same sadness, the same dreary outlook on my life, and the same questions from my beautiful son. “Where’s dad? When’s dad coming back?” There is only so many times I can say 'he will be back', 'he is away for work'. I hate lying to him and seeing the disappointment on his f
ace as he continues to stare aimlessly out of the windows, awaiting the arrival of his father. He has been gone for two weeks, fourteen horrible nights since Leighton has walked away, his eyes showing the hurt he felt but his face blanking everything.
My heart is shattered and my resolve worse. I want him, however he comes. He doesn’t seem to understand I know the man he is, I knew it all and accepted it all when I married him. I understand the hunger and thirst he has, it is evident for anyone to see, but I accept it and cherish him for his strength and perseverance to be a better man.
“You can't continue like this Abbi,” my best friend tells me, rubbing her almost bursting stomach. I feel sorry for her, knowing the discomfort she is experiencing right now. Even at this very same time in my pregnancy, I was hot and achy, but with two babies inside of her, she has to feel like hell. She is only a month and a bit away from her due date and I am assured that she deserves a medal of bravery after carrying them and putting up with the twins’ childlike behaviour in addition.
“Like what?” I ask sadly, leaning on my hands as I stare at the bottle of his whisky on the counter. I so badly want to open it up and smell it, maybe to just feel the comfort of my husband and his usual alluring scent around me. Whisky has always reminded me of him, remembering him the very first time we went for dinner.
He had taken me to his restaurant, mere hours after rescuing me. I watched in awe as he sipped at his scotch, so elegant yet masculine. I knew, even then, I was hooked on him, I had to have him and prove I could once again love something.
“You look drained. I can't make you laugh, you haven’t smiled since your wedding, Abbi. What can I do to help you?” she pleads. I can see the pain it is causing her to have to witness the depression I am suffering with Leighton’s absence. No one can understand the heartbreak I’m suffering and I wouldn’t want them ever to have to suffer like this.
“Bring him back. I think, no matter what others say, he is the only way I will be ok. He is me, Maria. He is what runs me and keeps me afloat. I feel sunken right now. If I didn’t have Mel or Joe here, I don't think I would be surviving this at all.”
“We are all trying to find him, sweetheart. No matter how pissed I am with him, I want him back too. I can see how dead you are without him. Plus, the kids are missing their dad.”
I smile at her, weakly, my every thought evident in it. I am at my wits end, waiting day in day out for him to come back to me. I have so much going on, with my arm still not working or even attempting to move. I have been attending my Physio appointments, but with no progress so far it is bringing me further down into the uncontrollable spiral of depression. The very thought of never having the use of my arm again, takes me from just under the surface that is drowning me, to the very bottom of the sea, no visible light at the once shimmering surface.
“Go to bed, Abbi. It’s late and you need your energy. I’ll keep an ear out for the little-uns. I'm going to get the boys to look after the kids tomorrow and Georgia and I are going to take you out. You need some time for yourself. Plus, what better way to lure your man back than a makeover. He’ll never know what hit him.
“That could be nice.” I frown a little, running my fingers through my dry hair. Weeks of not taking care of myself has been harsh on my once silky blonde locks. It is beginning to once again resemble the mess it had been on the streets, before I met Leighton. It makes me sad to know he is gone, after everything he has done for me.
“No could be, it will be. I'm dying for some relaxation. I never get any of it at the moment. The twins are mad, both sets. Brad and Luke are running havoc trying to find Leighton and these two,” she points to her belly, “are trying their best to kill me.”
I finally laugh, just a little, at her comment. I miss being pregnant almost as much as I miss my husband. The feeling is unlike anything I have experienced. I want more than anything for Leighton to be home beside me, for us to continue our lives the way we were. I want to have another baby and to be the best damn mother I can be, even if my arm continues to be paralysed, I will give one hundred fifty percent into being a parent. Just knowing Leighton could have fathered another child, with Debbie, gives me something to look forward to. I am a good mum to Joe and plan on being one to his new child if it is his. If not, then I will be an awesome auntie to it.
“That’s a nice thing to hear, Abigail Lock. Continue with it. Your life will get better, I’ll make sure it does. Now, get off to bed, have a bath if you like. We are going shopping tomorrow and making you feel better.” I nod simply, reaching my arms around Maria to give her a cuddle.
I leave the room, heading up the large staircase to our room. I haven’t stayed in it since he left, I’ve been sleeping in Melissa’s nursery or Joe’s room, holding him in bed just to feel closer to my husband, but I feel a little more confident that I will one day see his beautiful face again.
I skip a bath, feeling tiredness hit me. I crash against my pillow for the first time in weeks. The comfort of it is mesmerising, swallowing me whole and spitting me out in a world of relaxation.
Blackness. It consumes me. I scream for him, trying to find my way to him, but he’s gone. He’s been dragged under the pitch black depths, a gloomy abyss that is drowning him in his own thoughts.
I am there. I assure him I'm there and I’ll help, but he doesn’t hear. He clings to the edge, trying his hardest to stay above the surface but it’s no use, he’s slipping and I can't stop him. “Leighton,” I shout, on my knees to grab him. My hand pushes through the invisible force field, trying to cling to his slipping hand. “You have to stay, don't leave me,” I scream again, my head diving beneath the black endlessness, trying to find his hand.
“Just let me go, I'm a lost cause, Abigail. I’ll only end up hurting you,” he tells me, smiling sadly before he lets go of the edge.
“LEIGHTON!” I scream, terrified, he’s lost and I can't get him.
I watch as his large body is consumed by the dark waters, slowly sinking to a void I cannot see the end of. He is gone, he is lost, his soul is dead.
A maniacal laugh sounds around me, my head turning left and right to find it. It makes my entire body shake in anxiety and fright. I know the noise, I hear it in my dreams. It consumes me, takes over any happiness I have in my life. The memories, the dark hellish surrounding are caving in around me. The walls are collapsing onto me, weighing me down. He’s near, I can feel him, I can smell him, my body is in tune to every sound of his shoes, of his voice.
“You are always mine, Abigail.” He cackles as I back up, pulling into myself like a baby in a womb.
“Go away, please, leave me alone. You’re dead, he killed you. He fucking killed you, you bastard.” I scream, kicking out viscously as his shadow covers me.
“I’ll never be dead, not here.” I feel myself fall underneath a blackened thickness that drowns me in its toxicity. His laugh, it suffocates me until I can longer function or breathe. He’s killing me again, I’m dying and without my soul mate and reason to breathe my body will falter to do so.
“LEIGHTON! HELP!!!” I scream as I diminish.
“Abbi, Abbi wake up. Please, you have to open your eyes, babe.” The voice, it's soothing, it's kind and warm. I force my lids to open, looking around the brightness. I'm in my bedroom, in my bed. The covers are thrown haphazardly across the floor, the sheets rustled under me.
“He was here. He got me.” I cry, bringing my knees into myself. I no longer feel safe, he is wherever I go, always clinging onto my subconscious and slowly killing me.
“Who was?” Maria asks worried, holding her stomach.
“My father. He was here, I could feel him and smell him. Leighton, he’s gone and my father, he got to me. His darkness, it’s here, it’s everywhere.” I toss and turn on the bed, looking in every crevice I can see, searching for any sign of the blackness that follows him.
“Abbi,” Maria says, but I ignore her pleading and jump from my bed. I open the curtains,
the doors, even the one to the bathroom. I search everywhere frantically, looking for him. “ABIGIAL! Listen to me.” Maria shouts and I turn to face her. Tears trail her cheeks as she rapidly wipes them away. “He’s not here, babe. He’s never going to hurt you again. Ant and Leighton made sure of it sweetie. He isn’t in this world anymore. He will never come near you again.”
“You’re wrong, everyone is wrong. He’ll always be here, here in my fucking head.” I stab myself in the head with my finger, prodding hard at where my father remains, his memory haunting me. I open my fist, slapping myself hard by my temple. “Here, he still fucking hurts me, still rapes and abuses me, he still fucking kills me.” I shout, slamming my hand and head into the walls harshly, the pain radiating through my skull doing little to flush the memories away.
“Abbi you’re scaring me, stop!” Maria shouts, pulling at me. “STOP, ABBI, PLEASE, STOP. YOU’RE BLEEDING. STOP!” I can't stop, nothing can stop me. I want to end it all, I don't want to see him or remember him anymore. I need Leighton, I need my Leighton.
“ABBI!” I hear her shout once more before blackness consumes me.
Why? Why oh fucking why does this noise have to be a reoccurring thing for me? “BEEP, BEEP, FUCKING BEEP.” It sounds through my aching skull and stabs at my core.
“FUCK OFF!” I shout aloud, banging my hand into something beside me. I can't see much, my eyes fighting to open.
“Miss Lock, please lay still,” someone speaks, holding my arms beside me. “You need to remain still, or you will cause further damage.” Again, why does my life consist of me getting hurt? Whether it’s physically or my heart being shattered in two by the man who is meant to be my protector. I need him, I need my husband to rescue me from my own self. My nightmares and memories are haunting me worse than ever before and I can't stop them.
Durability (The LockDown Series Book 3) Page 14