Until I Break

by M. Leighton

  “It didn’t take me long to learn what she liked. At first, I found it kind of strange and off-putting. It never scared me; I guess I just wasn’t into that kind of thing. At first. But then, the more she wanted me to do to her, the more I started to like it. That feeling of power, of domination.

  “Even after she went off to college, we kept seeing each other. By then, we had a…special bond. We shared things that other people wouldn’t understand.

  “One weekend, before I graduated, I went to stay with her at college. I was thinking about going to medical school there with her. We went to a couple of parties, had too much to drink and then went back to her apartment to have sex. On this particular night, she asked me to choke her. Said she wanted to feel it when I came, wanted to feel my fingers tighten then relax. So I did. I did what she wanted. Only I’d had so much to drink, it took me a little longer. I don’t know if I held on too tight. Or too long. Or maybe both. But when it was over, I couldn’t wake her up. I tried for a few minutes then I started CPR. But I just couldn’t get her back.”

  I rub my aching forehead. I rush through the rest, tired of reliving the pain. “I called my father after that. And he worked his magic. Of course, it wasn’t too hard when Alyssa’s family didn’t want the truth known any more than my family did. It would’ve ruined them. Her fetishes, an abusive relative. Nasty stuff. So the bad guy got off and lived to fight another day. The end.”

  The silence is deafening. I don’t bother to look over at Samantha. I don’t want to see the horror, the judgment, the revulsion on her face. Resigned to the damage that my confession has done, I put the Rover in drive and I pull back onto the highway.

  Neither of us speaks the rest of the way to Samantha’s. I’m lost in the past and Samantha is…well, I have no idea what she’s thinking. And at the moment, I can’t manage to care. I’m consumed with remembered guilt. And fear. And pain. And regret.

  As I’m pulling onto the street in front of Samantha’s house, she finally breaks the silence. “Is that why you chose psychiatry?”

  I’m weary. I’m tired of answering questions and revisiting the most horrific time of my life. “No. I chose psychiatry to understand why I became obsessed with that which had caused me so much pain. After Alyssa, I sought out women who liked what she liked. It was all I could think about for years afterward. I chose psychiatry so I could try and help myself. So I could understand it and then stop it.”

  “And did you?”

  “No. I have my theories, and I’m in control, but there’s no fixing me. At least not that I’ve found. All it’s taught me is that there’s a monster inside me. And I can’t let him out.”

  I pull to a stop, leaving the engine idling. I just want Samantha to get out of my vehicle so I can get the hell out of here. Put this whole night, this whole experience behind me. It’s just now that I realize I’m in no position to help anyone else. I’m the most damaged and twisted of all.

  I jerk when I feel the touch of Samantha’s cool, smooth fingers on my cheek. I turn to look at her. Her eyes are full of both love and pity, neither of which I can stand the sight of right now.

  “That’s all I wanted from you. To know you, to know the truth.”

  I look into her liquid smoke eyes as I reach for her wrist. I see the hurt register in them when I fling her hand away. “Congratulations. You got what you wanted. And now you know why you’ll never be enough for me,” I say harshly, wanting to make this as painful as I possibly can so that both of us will move on and never look back. “Now get out.” Her face shows stunned disbelief. “Out!”

  She flinches like I slapped her and it stabs at my gut. I never wanted to hurt her. That’s why I warned her. I warned her because this is who I am. It’s what I do. I hurt people. It’s my curse. And that will never change.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE- Samantha

  Mason stares down into my eyes. There’s a peculiar light in the pale, lime green depths, one I’ve never seen there before. It makes my heart flutter and my chest ache.

  “You know that when I do this, when I make you like me, there’s no turning back. This is not the movies. You can’t kill your maker and become mortal again. You will be like me; you will be linked to me for all the days of eternity.”

  “I know,” I assure him, biting back the words that explain how badly I want that, the words that would let Mason know that he’s all I’ll ever want. No matter how long forever is.

  “What’s mine is mine. I will never let you go. And I will never share you.”

  I know he’s warning me, trying one last time to scare me away, but what he doesn’t realize is that it’s no use. I’ve been his from the first night I saw him. My only hope is that I can make him all mine. No one else’s.

  “And maybe one day, I won’t have to share you either.” It slips out before I can stop it, but not before I can see the sadness come into Mason’s eyes.

  “That’s not the man I am, Daire. I wish I could be that for you, but it’s not my nature. I’ll love you all the days of the world, but I can’t promise to love only you.”

  Tears are coursing down my cheeks. For the first time since I began writing so many years ago, I can’t find the happy ending. I can’t show my characters how to make it work without one of them destroying the other. Despite the hopelessness of my past, I have always nurtured the tiny seed that, one day, there would be a happy ending for me, that one day I would find true love and everything would be all right.

  But here I am in “one day.” I’ve found true love, yes. But everything’s not all right.

  Alec’s feelings for me aren’t the same. He might care about me, deep down in places he won’t even admit to himself, but he doesn’t feel what I feel. If he did, there’s no way he could have walked away.

  And he did.

  Alec Brand simply walked out of my life.

  Well, drove. That night, when he drove me home in his Range Rover and dropped me off, was the last time I saw him. And that was eight weeks ago. Well almost. Fifty-four long days and fifty-five even longer nights. Not that I’m counting.

  You’re totally counting!

  But who could blame him? I was totally out of line, goading him the way I did. If he’d wanted to tell me, he would’ve. And I should’ve respected that. He’s obviously tormented about his past, and forcing him to tell me about it was wrong. Just wrong.

  So am I really surprised that he walked away?

  No. Not really. I’d have done the same thing if he’d pushed me like that. And my past, though terrible, is nothing like his. And he’s carrying it around, all that guilt, like a thousand pound weight.

  Every day.

  The phone rings. My heart still speeds up every time I hear it, but not nearly as much as it used to. After a few weeks of not hearing from Alec, it began to penetrate my stupid head that he’s not coming back, that he won’t be calling. But still, I react a little bit even now. And just like always, I’m filled with disappointment when I see that it’s not him.

  This time, it’s Chris.

  “Hello?” I try not to sound so mopey, but there’s very little I can hide from Chris, no matter how hard I try.

  “Still in a funk, huh?”

  I sigh. But she sees right through me. As I suspected.

  “No.”

  “Liar.”

  “Then why did you ask?”

  “Just being polite.”

  “Asking someone if they’re in a funk is not polite.”

  “Fine. God, when are you gonna get over this? You’re as prickly as a porcupine.”

  “Then why do you still call me?”

  “Because you’re my sister and I love you. I refuse to abandon you in your hour of need. Even if that hour extends into months. But I will warn you that my cut-off is Christmas. You know I can’t have you sulk through the holidays.”

  Christmas always was Chris’s favorite holiday.

  “Oh Lord! I hope I’m feeling better long before then!”

  As s
ad as it is to admit, I doubt I will be. At least not completely. This hole will never be filled, this ache never satisfied. That’s the risk you take when falling in love. If it doesn’t work out, it leaves you devastated forever. And forever is a long time.

  “I know I don’t know all the details, but I still think you need to go see him. Sam, there’s no way the guy can’t be in love with you, too. He’s too smart not to see how amazing you are.”

  “And you’re smart enough to realize how biased you are.”

  “Maybe a little, but I’m still objective enough to see you for who and what you are. I know you’re not perfect. You have a terrible sense of style, you need to take better care of your skin and your morning breath could knock over a fruit stand from ten paces.”

  “Like yours is any better!” I defend indignantly.

  She giggles. “What I’m getting at is that I know your flaws, so I’m not blind. But you’re the catch of a lifetime even in your terrible clothes.”

  “Half the time I wear things you pick out.”

  “I know! Thank God you look nice part of the year.”

  I roll my eyes. There’s just no reasoning with Chris.

  “Did you call just to point out all my shortcomings?”

  “Oh, hell no! There’s no time for that. I called to invite you out for a girl’s night. Let’s go get drunk. You wanna?”

  For the first time since the conversation started, I hear the sad desperation in her voice. That or it’s the first time I’ve had my head out of my butt long enough to perceive someone else’s pain.

  “What’s the matter? Did something happen between you and Greg?”

  There’s absolute silence on the phone. I wonder for a few seconds if we got cut off, but then I hear her sniff.

  “It’s over. Done.”

  “What happened?”

  “We got in an argument and he got pretty mad. I guess I just got spooked. You know, old fears, ghosts from the past, all that shit. I freaked. Threw a vase at him. Hit him in the head.”

  “Ohmigod, Chris! Is he okay?”

  “He’s fine. It only grazed him. But still…”

  “Oh,” I say, deadpan. I do see. He got to see some of Chris’s emotional wounds and he ran. Every broken person’s worst fear—that no one will be able to love us in spite of our scars.

  “I apologized, but it didn’t do any good. So now I get to live the rest of my life knowing that I ruined the best thing to ever happen to me.”

  “Stop it right now, Chris! This is not the end. Greg is a nice guy. He might just need to cool down. And if he can’t ever forgive you then you’ll meet another great guy, one who will love you for exactly who and what you are, past and all.”

  “You sort of lost your credibility when you refused to go give your perfect man another chance.”

  “But you don’t know how it went down. I was such a bitch, Chris. I said awful things to him. My situation is different than yours.”

  “Is it? Is it so different? You showed each other your ugly and then it all fell apart, isn’t that right? Isn’t that what you told me?”

  “Chris, there’s more to it than that. You just…you just had to be there. I can’t go into it. It’s not fair for me to tell you what he trusted me with.”

  “I’m not asking you to tell me. I’m just hoping that you two can show me that there’s hope. If you can find happiness, I know I can, too. But if someone as great as you can’t make it work, what does that say for someone like me?”

  “Chris, you’re amazing. You don’t need me to start counting all your wonderful attributes, do you? Do you really want me to bore you with things you already know?”

  In some ways, Chris is the most confident person you’d ever hope to meet. But in other ways, ways she keeps closely guarded, she’s every bit as screwed up and insecure as I am. She just does a better job of hiding it than I do. According to Alec, I write about the ways I hope to heal, about the life I wish I had rather than experiencing any of it.

  “Fine. I’ll make you a deal. I’ll give the thing with Alec one more shot if you promise to go talk to Greg.”

  Sniff, sniff. “Really?” she asks in a small, childlike voice.

  “Really really.”

  “Okay, but can we still do girl’s night tonight? I need to go have a little fun. Plus, I’ve got this really cute dress I’m dying to wear.”

  I sigh and shake my head. Fashion will always be the thing that drags Chris out of a funk. Just like my writing will always be mine.

  I look at the blinking cursor and the happily ever after I just can’t seem to conjure.

  At least I hope so.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX- Alec

  My internal office line buzzes. Only the most important clients, employees and a few personal friends have this number.

  “Brand,” I say brusquely into the receiver.

  “Alec,” comes the familiar purr.

  “Carla,” I respond. “So nice to hear from you.”

  “I was hoping you’d think so,” she confesses in her feline way. As it turns out, however, I’m not in the mood for her, or any reminders of what I’m trying so hard to forget.

  “What can I do for you?”

  “Ooo, sounds like you need me a lot worse than I need you.”

  “How do you figure?”

  “I can hear that tension all the way through the phone. And I have just the thing for it.”

  “I’m busy, Carla. What’s this about?”

  Her laugh is sultry and grates on my nerves. “I’m having a mixer at the club. We’re adding a couple of new members. Thought I’d invite you. It’s all strictly downstairs. Unless, of course, anyone wants to go upstairs…”

  “I don’t really have—”

  “I really hope you can come. It’s important for members to show their support. You know it keeps everyone honest when we all mingle occasionally.”

  In other words, what she’s saying is that, by mingling at her mixer, we all have something on each other, which means no one tells. Ever. The risk is too high. And she wants to bring the new members right into that. Like a hush party.

  I don’t really approve of what she’s doing, but I do need to stay on the good side of her and her…endeavors. Besides, I have frequented the place for several years. I guess the least I could do is go for a drink or two, especially since the lure of the upstairs won’t be the focus of the night.

  “I’ll try to stop by,” I answer noncommittally.

  “Nine o’clock?”

  “Sounds good.”

  “Until then, Alec.”

  “Carla.”

  I hang up and lean back in my chair. I’ve been spending so much time at home brooding since I got back into South Carolina, it’ll be good to get out. If I hadn’t had to come back for some business things here at ABC Consulting, I’d still be in Oregon. Far away from Samantha Jansen.

  And how much I still want her.

  And how guilty I feel about it.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN- Samantha

  Luckily, I did plenty of research for my books a couple of years ago when I began this vampire series. It was the first time I’d really let go and written about the things I’d seen in childhood. I did lots of investigating, trying to understand not only the mechanics of it all, but the pleasure principles involved. I guess Alec did the same thing in a way, only he was more interested in the psychological aspect of it. In many ways, we are very similar creatures.

  I feel the pinch of the outfit I’m wearing under my loose-fitting, floor-length dress. I have to look presentable on the outside. For a while anyway. I owe that to Carla for her help getting me in. Luckily, she was agreeable to helping me do this for Alec. I think she practically drooled over the thought of Alec getting…back into things.

  My stomach twitches with fear. A healthy dose of fear. I ignore it. What I’ve discovered in the days since talking to Chris is that the fear of losing Alec forever is far greater than any other fear I’ve known, includin
g the ones I experienced as a child. Besides, even if this isn’t effective, I need to work toward putting the past behind me. I can’t move forward as long as I’m shackled to haunting memories, anchored in yesterday. And I must move on. One way or the other.

  I grab my bag and walk toward the bedroom door. I pause in front of the mirror to look myself over one more time.

  The pale skin of my exposed arms and throat glows with a healthy sheen and my hair falls in a rich crimson wave almost to my waist. My lips are stained a color near that of my hair and my eyes are lined in charcoal. The makeup is heavy, but it can’t conceal the uncertainty lurking in the gray depths of my eyes, nor can it conceal the tremble of anticipation that works at my lower lip. I bite it as if to remind it to keep still. I’m doing this tonight. No backing out.

  Carefully, I walk to the car in my stilettoes. I pitch the bag in the back and ignore the nervous tremor of my hand as I slide the key into the ignition.

  This will all be over soon.

  With the help of navigation, I make my way back to the renovated house. The club. It’s dark outside when I pull into the lot and park. Warm light pours into the night from every window on the lower level. The upper levels are pitch black.

  My heart trips over itself in my chest.

  I get out and walk around to the back, going through the back door as instructed. I walk up the back staircase, also as instructed, and find the right room. I stop just inside the doorway, taking in the clean, crisp sheets and the accoutrements that have terrified me for years.

  Shaking off my trepidation, I close the door and get out all the things I could gather from my house. Anyone who saw inside my bag would think I’m a traveling freak show.

  And I guess, to some extent, they’d be right.

  When I’m finished, I go back out to the hall, close the door and head downstairs, slipping my domino on as I go.