Through Glass (The Glass Series Book 1)

by Fisher, Kari

  “Are you okay?” he asks, pushing her bangs out of her eyes.

  “I’m fine.”

  This time, she initiates the kiss, pushing him back so that he has no choice but to sit down on the bed. They’re at eye level now, staring at each other. He slides his hands up the back of her thighs and stops just short of where she wants him to go. Tara grabs his hands and slides them further up her skirt and forces his hands onto her round ass. She hooks his thumbs onto the top of her skirt and he pulls it down to her ankles.

  Oliver lets out a breathy moan. He hasn’t seen this side of her in so long. He knows now that she’s ready for him. She has that animalistic look in her eyes. Now he knows that he is what she’s having for dinner tonight.

  Without pulling his eyes away from hers, Oliver finishes unbuttoning her shirt and slips it down her arms. It falls to the floor and will probably wrinkle but he doubts she’ll even care. She climbs on top of him and he falls back so that he’s lying on the bed. She’s holding his arms down to his sides and their mouths are still pressed together. Letting go of his arms for just a second, Tara slides downwards and pulls Oliver’s boxers off his legs using only her teeth.

  “Mmm, supper.” She giggles, and then crawls up onto his lap.

  She gently kisses the insides of Oliver’s ankles, and makes her way up to his knee, leaving a trail of soft kisses. She stops and returns to his lips, staring into his deep, brown sensual eyes.

  Oliver tangles his hands into her long hair and kisses her so deeply that she can feel it in her innermost parts. He pulls away, leaving her breathless. With one swift movement he throws her on her back. Now he is above her. He is in control, just the way he likes it. She lets out a moan, begging him to take her. With one strong finger, he hooks the middle of her panties and pulls them down without even giving her a chance to protest. Not that she would anyway—she is ready for him and doesn’t want to waste any more time. She grabs the collar of his shirt and pulls him to her. She kisses him hard, her tongue invading his mouth. He returns the kiss longingly, so full of need. He runs his hand from her chin to her breast, then down to her stomach and to her legs, gently but firmly pulling them apart. Groaning loudly, he flexes his hips towards her.

  Oliver gazes into Tara’s eyes and with a hoarse voice, whispers, “Tara, I need you.”

  “I need you too,” she moans.

  He slides his hands up her thighs. With parted lips, she sharply inhales and winds her fingers through Oliver’s unruly mane. She pulls his head back, exposing his neck and begins to suck and kiss him in such a way she didn’t even know she could.

  She can feel his length against her and she cannot wait until she can feel him in the deepest of ways. With her hand still in his hair, she kisses him passionately as he matches her kiss and his tongue explores the inner parts of her mouth. She arches her back, making her large supple breasts more accessible to him. He takes one gently into his mouth and she lets out a cry of pure ecstasy.

  Oliver continues his assault on Tara’s breast and her need is becoming more and more apparent. She is already so close to letting go. Her breathing is becoming rapid and sparse. Oliver knows he could send her over the edge right now. He abruptly stops, leaving her gasping for air.

  “Let’s see just how ready you are, my dear.” He again begins to run his hand up the inside of Tara’s thigh. Tara moans at his every touch. She needs to feel him there. She needs him to touch her in a way only he can.

  In one movement, Oliver buries himself inside her. Tara cries out, but not with pain—with passion. She doesn’t understand where this sudden fiery desire is coming from but she doesn’t care. She needs this more with each thrust.

  Oliver is gripping onto Tara’s wrist so hard that with each movement, she’s almost scared he’s going to break it. She’s scared he’s going to break her—but this is the last thing on her mind.

  Tara’s toes curl and she throws her head as far back into the pillow as it can go. She lets out a cry as she finds release. Oliver’s breathing gets quicker, and his body grows rigid. He’s moving faster and faster, digging his nails into her lower back. Finally, he climaxes, exploding into her violently before becoming limp in her arms.

  Oliver places a sweet kiss on the side of Tara’s mouth. They were tangled in a mess of arms and legs with beads of sweat covering their naked bodies. He lets out a sigh. He has now found his release. Tara turns to face him. She can already sense the distance settling in between them once again. She isn’t ready to lose him yet. She just had the most earth shattering sex with the man she loves more than anything in the world. She gently brushes the drops of sweat off of his face, and whispers “I love you.”

  On his face, she can see that he is in pain. Thoughts of work once again fill his head and he remains silent. Tara props herself up on one arm and kisses Oliver with every ounce of love she possesses. His lips find hers but he cannot kiss her back with the same intensity. He knows that his career is going to destroy this beautiful woman, lying naked in his arms.

  Chapter Thirty

  As I feel my life fade away,

  The pain is unbearable

  It’s morning. Apparently I fell asleep on the couch. I wince, realizing my neck is a bit sore. I glance around the apartment. I can’t remember whether or not Oliver spent the night. My mind is playing tricks on me and lately it feels as though every day is blended together into one big mess. I have no concept of time. I wonder if it’s because I am overworking myself with two jobs and dating Oliver.

  I remember last night—I called the police. No one ever showed up. The man with the tattoo had been following me and I was scared. I look down, and the knife is still in my hand. I drop it to the floor when I notice blood.

  Whose blood is this?

  I stand slowly, checking myself for wounds. My pant leg is also soaked in blood, but it’s not mine. I’m not hurt.

  “Oliver?” I call out. I hear nothing.

  I don’t remember how I got to the couch. The last thing I can recall is sitting on the floor by the door. I was alone in the apartment, I think.

  There are droplets of blood leading to the bathroom. I walk slowly, and call out again. “Oliver? Are you in here?”

  The bathroom door is open an inch, and I slowly slide it open the rest of the way. There’s blood on the side of the bathtub. I pause, taking a breath and trying to calm myself before I slide the shower curtain over.

  It’s a horrible sight. At the bottom of the porcelain tub, my cat lay lifeless and bloody—a pile of limp, black fur. He’s been stabbed, violently. Repeatedly. He’s barely recognizable. Sobbing, I stumble backwards and trip over a laundry basket. My head cracks on the corner of the vanity and everything goes black.

  I’m not out for long. When I come to, Frederick is trying to help me stand, with both of his arms under my armpits. I pull away from him and begin kicking.

  “Did you kill my cat?” I scream. “Did you kill him? Tell me!”

  “No, Lauren, I did not kill your cat,” he says, calmly. “Your cat isn’t dead.”

  “Look at him! He’s dead!” I yell.

  “That’s not your cat, Lauren. Where are we now?” he asks.

  “What?”

  “Which room are we in?”

  “What the hell? My bathroom. What are you doing here? Get away from me. I’ll call the cops. I swear I will.” I push him but he isn’t moving away.

  “We are not in your bathroom, Lauren. This is a hospital.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Don’t you remember? I am Doctor Frederick Christiansen. We met yesterday,” he says, softly.

  “You killed my cat!”

  “You didn’t have a cat, Lauren. You never had a cat.”

  “Seriously, fuck you.” I pull away from him.

  “Lauren, look at me,” he says, calmly.

  “You killed my cat. You killed my cat. You killed my cat. You killed my cat. You killed my cat. You killed my cat. You killed my cat. You kill
ed my cat. You killed my cat.” I am rocking back and forth now on my bed in the white room, with my arms wrapped around myself. The room is spinning.

  I’m sitting on the floor of my entrance, clutching a knife. I stand, feeling wobbly. My legs carry me over to the hallway where I fall to my knees.

  “I’ve been sleeping with Oliver, and I’m pregnant,” I whimper.

  NyQuil walks up to me, rubbing his face on my leg.

  “I’m pregnant,” I cry.

  The cat does nothing but groom himself. I hang my head down and stare at the floor. Then I reach forward and grab the cat by his neck. He lets out a howl as I bury my knife so far into his chest that it comes out through his back. And again. I am pinning him down to the floor and violently piercing his body with the knife. It seems like hours, but only a few minutes later, I collapse to the ground. I lay beside his broken body, breathing heavily. I am exhausted and worn. Reluctantly, I pick him up in my arms, almost cradling him as I carry him to the bath tub. I drop his body into the empty tub from about three feet up. It makes a “thump” noise and blood splatters off of him onto the surrounding white walls.

  I turn off the light and make my way to the couch, where I fall into the soft, beige cushions and breakdown.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  I awake from what seemed like

  A chemical-induced day dream

  “Lauren, it’s time to wake up.”

  I moan and mumble words that even I don’t comprehend, and I roll over towards the wall.

  “Lauren? Wake up.”

  “Go away,” I groan, this time slightly louder and more coherent.

  “It’s moving day, remember?” Such a soft voice. I can tell it’s Shay. “We’re moving you to the other facility today. We talked about this.”

  “No,” I call out, still refusing to look at her.

  “Unfortunately you don’t have a choice, Lauren. You need to get out of bed now, or I’ll have to sedate you again and I really don’t want to do that if I don’t have to. Do you understand?”

  I’m not going anywhere.

  I’m not going.

  I’m not.

  “No.”

  “Okay, let’s get you up,” Shay says. Her hands are on my arm, pulling me in her direction. I pull and fall back onto the bed. I clutch my pillow with all of my strength. She tries again, this time her hands are hooked onto my shoulders and she pulls me back. I begin to thrash. I kick my legs as hard as I can, and she releases her grip. She’s at the other side of the room and I notice she’s talking to him.

  “Oliver,” I whisper.

  “Hi, Lauren. I’m just here to make sure everything goes okay with your transfer? You’re going to be much happier at the new facility, I promise,” he says confidently.

  I’m not so sure.

  “Will you come visit me at my new apartment? We can share a bottle of wine,” I plead. At this point, Shay is holding onto both my arms from behind me, leading me out of the room.

  “I will come visit you in about a week to see how your treatment is coming along, okay? Does that sound fair?” Oliver asks.

  “A whole week? That’s a lot of time. A week is so long. A week? Really? Couldn’t you come see me sooner? Oliver?” My voice trails off as I am whisked by him. I’m feeling light headed.

  Frederick watches curiously from the window on the door across from my room as I am pulled down the hallway.

  We are outside on pavement, and I stop moving my feet. Two workers are dragging me, one at each arm, and my back is arched so that I can look back at the building. Oliver is watching through a window as they help me onto a bus.

  “I’m glad that’s over,” Oliver says, still peering out the window. Frederick nods.

  “I will take good care of her, Oli. You know that. We are going to switch up her medication until we find something that works for her. We’ll do some group therapy sessions, some one on one. We’ll get the new female doctor in if she feels more comfortable opening up to someone of the same gender. You did all you could for her. She’s delusional. Her hallucinations are out of control. We couldn’t keep her here, with her feelings for you. It just wasn’t working. You’ve been trying to do this for years to no avail, Oliver. It just wasn’t going to work. Sometimes you need to let go and understand that they are beyond your help.”

  “I get that. That’s why I called you. Thanks, Frederick. You know I appreciate it,” Oliver says. He glances out the window again and the bus is gone.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  You missed your chance, and now it’s gone

  You’ll miss me when you hear this song

  “She’s gone.” Oliver takes a couple steps into the entrance of his house and then stops to read the mail.

  “That’s a good thing, Oliver. She’s going to get the help she needs. What other cases are you working on? You still seem stressed out,” Tara asks calmly. She walks up to Oliver and puts her arms around his waist from behind, leaning her head onto his back and feeling his warmth. He turns and slides an arm around her shoulders. He pulls her close and holds her, burying his nose in her hair—smelling it.

  “A man named Chase. I’m going to be focusing on him. He needs a lot of work. We don’t even know what his real name is—Chase is just a name we gave him. He hasn’t spoken a word since he’s been at the facility. He was brought in after he beat another man into a coma, and the victim still might not make it, at which point he’ll be charged with murder instead of assault with a deadly weapon. I need to get him to say something, and I don’t know how to,” Oliver sighs. “Maybe I’m just really not cut out for this job. It just doesn’t seem like it’s meant for me anymore, Tar. I don’t know what I’m doing. I feel like I’m pulling shit out of my ass, trying to make things work. I’m bullshitting my way through everything and it just doesn’t seem right anymore.”

  “Don’t say that, Oliver. You’re an excellent psychiatrist. It just gets to be a lot to handle sometimes. I know it does. I knew it would be like this when we first got married. It’s putting stress on our marriage but it’s nothing that we, as a couple, cannot handle. We are much better than this. I just hate when you come home exhausted and angry. I wish I could make you feel better and I really don’t know how to. I want to help you. I want you to come home and spend time with me and our family, instead of hitting a bottle and heading straight to bed. I miss you. We miss you,” Tara pleads. She hugs him again, hiding her face on his chest.

  “I love you, Tara, more than anything else in this world,” Oliver sighs.

  “I love you too.”

  There’s a knock at the door. Oliver turns to open it and recognizes Shay’s outline through the frosted windows.

  “Oliver, I’m sorry to show up here but they’re having a very hard time with Lauren. I’m heading to their facility now, and I figured I’d stop by to see if you wanted to come out with me. Perhaps if she sees someone familiar, it’ll help her settle in. I know you said you’d check up on her next week, but we really need to be out there now,” she explains.

  Oliver glances at Tara, who nods urgently. He kisses her forehead.

  “Thank you for understanding, Tara,” he whispers.

  And with that, he’s gone. They’re in the car, driving fast. The last phone call Shay received was the night shift nurse holding Lauren back from smashing her face against the floor.

  “I knew this would happen, Shay. I knew she’d have a breakdown. She’s going to shut down completely and no one will be able to get through to her,” Oliver mumbles, shaking his head.

  “She just needs a lot of work, Oliver. We are going to do this right. We’ll head over there tonight, spend some time with her initially so she gets used to the transfer. We can find one day shift nurse that she seems to have a connection with, like she did me, and then we can slowly introduce her to the rest of the staff.”

  “I hope you’re right, Shay. The last thing I want to see happen is for us to lose her completely.”

  “We won’t
lose her, Oliver,” Shay assures him.

  They’ are silent for almost an hour before they arrive at the facility. Oliver urgently jogs into the building after Shay.

  “This way,” Shay points down a hallway. They can hear the screams already.

  “Oliver, Oliver, Oliver, Oliver, Oliver!” Lauren is screaming his name at the top of her lungs.

  “Oh god, Shay,” Oliver whispers, stopping dead in his tracks.

  “Are you sure you want to do this? You don’t have to come in if you don’t want to, Oliver. You can just walk away now,” Shay says softly, touching his arm.

  “No, I can’t walk away now. I’m too far into this.” He nods at the guard standing by the door, who lets them into the room. Lauren is being held down on her bed, clawing at her face. She has bloody scratch marks down both cheeks.

  “Frederick, let her go,” Oliver demands. “Why hasn’t she been sedated?”

  “I am trying to have a conversation with her, Doctor Fallon. I can’t adjust her medication if I need to keep her sedated the entire time. I appreciate you coming out. It’s best if we try to get through to her, instead of putting her out again.”

  “I agree, Doctor Christiansen.” Oliver nods. “Lauren, may we talk to you for a couple minutes?”

  Lauren says nothing but she grunts and breathes heavily. Her finger nails are bloody.

  “Lauren, we don’t want you to hurt yourself,” Oliver adds.

  She looks up, making eye contact with Oliver for a second. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

  She’s sitting on the edge of the bed, now, rocking back and forth, feeling her face and looking at the blood on her own hands.

  “Lauren, you’re hurt. We need to get that cleaned up or it’ll get infected,” Shay says. She leaves the room to get a first aid kit.