Quod Me Nutrit Me Destruit: That Which Destroys Me with The Alternate Ending

by Kimber S. Dawn

  I shower and dress before leaving. On my way out, I see Wes still standing in the kitchen, completely unmoved from where he was when I turned around after screaming ‘Rust.’

  Chapter 25

  The Desecration of Beauty

  I conditioned myself at a very young age to function on as little sleep as possible. Even at four, I recall thinking that sleep was an unnecessary excuse to be lazy. At first, I attempted to go completely without it. After the seventh day, lucidness evaded me and simple conscious decisions blurred. It was the eighth day that I physically lost all control. Control of my bowels, my stomach contents, my mind—Everything. The last thing I lost control of was my eyelids. I fought those to the very end. And then I fell asleep.

  Through trial and error over a period of several months, I mastered sleep. From that moment on, I only allowed myself two hours of sleep in a twenty four hour period.

  This long practiced sleep pattern is what blessed me every night as I lay beneath Beauty’s bed and listened to her terror.

  She and I are so much alike. Except she is so much more destroyed than I ever have or ever will be. I liked to think her destruction was caused by her fighting the demons within, instead of welcoming them with open arms as I did.

  My eyes literally starve when I am unable to watch her. Even after no more than thirty minutes, the physical effects begin crippling me. The longest stretch of time I’ve had to endure consisted of twenty-one hours, she’d gone several towns over to meet with a specialist and spent the night before returning.

  By the time my eyes finally soaked in the sight of her, my vision was blurred from tears of agony and torment.

  The last six hours of physical torture I was forced to endure because of her, all because she hadn’t had the ability to cope with the demons; all because she had to fight rather than simply give in. I lay those last hours upon her bed and constructed her death at my hands in over a thousand different and beautiful ways.

  But when I see her walking up the walkway through my swollen, teary eyes, all I feel is home and love in its purest, simple form.

  The powerful emotion is so incredible that a giggle bubbles from my mouth before I can stifle it with my hands covering my lips. Her eyes of every color clash with my red swollen ones, halting her in place. Her brow furrows and she frowns. When she steps towards my direction, I run the other away and hide; but not for long, just long enough to be forgotten, then I’m back in the shadows watching my Beauty once again.

  Later that night, I lay beneath her bed and listen to her breath as she sleeps ever so peacefully. After six hours of listening to her sleep, I allow myself to be lulled into REM sleep.

  I’m jarred awake before the sun has risen, confused by sleep. My hand grips the frame under her bed and I move to slide out from beneath it, only to be stopped by her whimpering. Excitement surges through me. This is a wonderful turn of events. Beauty’s nightmares usually happen an hour after she falls asleep. Never more than an hour. I’m euphoric and giddy with joy. A smile spreads across my face from ear to ear as I settle in and patiently wait for the orchestrated melody of Beauty’s horror.

  Her whimper causes my ears to perk up. The grunt that follows causes my smile to fade.

  “Shh…If you be good, and keep quiet, I’ll make sure to not hurt you too bad. I love you. Did you know that? Do you have any idea how long I’ve wanted you, baby girl?” The mattress above me groans, bowing from excessive weight. Movement in my periphery causes my eyes to dart to the other side of the bed where I see a pair of ugly feet, men’s feet, with his gnarled, yellowed toenails curling around the tip of each toe, peeking out of the toe of his navy house slippers.

  A grunt cuts through the room followed by Beauty’s yelp before the mattress begins squeaking. The sounds, him grunting, her yelps and cries, and the mattress squeaking all interlace and sync into a morbid rhythm punctuated by a male’s grunted words of love and praise. As I lay there listening to him praise her for her tight cunt, madness consumes me. Fierce hate for Beauty swells and unfolds, blanketing and snuffing out any love I ever possessed for her. Choking and killing any goodness I ever associated with my Beauty.

  She is nothing more than a weak desecration.

  And Beauty will pay for her abhorrent actions, she’ll pay in the only currency I accept; blood - her blood.

  Chapter 26

  No Explanation

  Why couldn’t she just answer the question correctly? She not only answered it wrong, she fucking safe worded out. And for what? So she could explain? She took a very simple question and contorted it completely out of its intended context.

  “Shit!” I turn from the counter and am forced to look over the mess strewn across my floor. “Thank God Myrta’s coming tomorrow.” I say to the empty room as I storm out of the kitchen.

  As soon as I’m behind my desk I sit back down and read over the files again; chasing the same damn ghost. After reading and rereading the files, I snatch the phone up and dial Derrick. “Speak.”

  “I need more than what’s in these files, man. Something is missing, something fucking huge. I feel it in my bones. Is this all you could get?”

  “Ah…it was with the information you’d given me. But I can take apart each one and look for a lead. You originally wanted a timeline, or I assumed that was what you wanted from our conversation. You want me to break apart the timeline and extensively research it from every angle? Then yeah - whatever’s missing, I’ll find it. Gonna take a lot longer than days though, Wes. We’re talking weeks. Month and a half tops. Her vagabond upbringing has her shit scattered across the state of Louisiana.”

  “Yes. Do that. And the quicker you get me the info the more your fee doubles. I don’t want that shit wrapped up it a pretty bow either, send it to me in chunks. We’ll both look over it. You got anything for me on this morning’s job?”

  “Oh yeah. I emailed it to you earlier, fax should be coming through.”

  “Thanks, D. I’ll wire the payment immediately.”

  “Sounds good. Got anything else for me, boss?”

  “Yeah. Fucking hurry up.”

  After the event that occurred Sunday morning. I honestly saw no other way to protect Stell than from a distance; at least until I can get this shit ironed out and I can pinpoint for absolute certainty what it is I’m missing.

  The case studies that Derrick faxed over were all the conclusive evidence I needed. The key to curing Stella’s nightmares is her ability to accept her submissiveness. That was where she failed; not me, but herself.

  Instead of reacting to my Dominate actions, she hesitated. That hesitation tipped the domino that tipped the next domino and ended in a cascade of tipped over dominos all ultimately resulting in her denying me as her Dom; the trust that I mistakenly believed I’d already held.

  Instead of using her strength to withstand the consequences of her actions, she did what I thought - what I believed with every fiber of my being - she would never do:

  She gave up. She broke.

  Out of weakness, she gave up on the only thing that could save her.

  I wasn’t hurting her. She’d withstood much more in the way of pain and self-discipline than a few swats to her bottom. So she didn’t safe word out because she couldn’t physically and emotionally take any more. She safe worded out because she panicked and refused to stay calm. In turn, she safe worded out by snipping any and all tethers tying her to submissiveness…to her cure.

  She cut me off at the knees by saying that one syllable word. Rust.

  I can’t help her. She took my ability to help her away. And until she realizes it, until it resonates through her as clear as a bell and she returns to me able to express it without me giving her the words or coaching her into understanding, all I can do is patiently wait… And pray to God to help her see what I could not.

  Stella called in sick every day this week, so when I walk into my office on Friday morning I’m caught off guard by the sight of her in front of my desk.


  “Good morning. I didn’t expect to see you here today.” I set my briefcase down beside my desk before shrugging out of my suit jacket and sitting down.

  “Yeah, I’m sorry about that. I must have a stomach bug or something. I can’t keep anything down. I have an appointment with my doctor today at four o’clock, if it’s alright for me to leave a little early?” Her bottom lip is pulled into her perfect mouth, her white teeth flash before chewing it.

  “Absolutely, far be it for me to keep you from your health. I’m sorry to hear you’ve been sick too. I wish it was the reason I’d believed you called in sick.” I grab the phone and dial my new secretary, Barby.

  “Barby, Good morning. Do you have the schedule? Ms. Reese and I are ready.”

  “Yes, sir. I’m headed in now.”

  “Excellent.” I set the phone in its cradle. Stella’s fidgeting in her seat and I have to bite my tongue to keep from correcting her.

  I could kiss Barby’s face for her timing. Sweet girl. Not a mean bone in her body. Brunette, got a body on her that would normally have me pulling out my signature Wesley Jacobs charm. If the angel sitting in front of me didn’t have me twisted up in emotional knots.

  Barby was the one in the office when Rachel came in expecting her job to… well, still be hers. So she scored her first gold star by printing out the email I received from HR after filing her termination paperwork. Barby said “I printed them out and handed them to her. After she stared at me for five minutes waiting for her glare of death powers to work, she huffed and stomped her foot then spun around and stomped her way towards the elevator, muttering curse words the entire time. When she tripped walking in to the elevator, I was thankfully able to hold my laughter back…Until the elevator doors closed, of course.”

  See, I told you. Not a mean bone in her body.

  “Barby, what’s our day looking like?” I smile at her and lean forward, resting my forearms on my desk.

  “Good morning, Stell. Are you feeling okay?” She looks at Stella with worry knitting her brow.

  Stella smiles at her, but goddamn if it isn’t so sad, it causes my chest to ache.

  “Not really, Barby. I have a doctor appointment this evening though. So, hopefully, they can find out what it is and I’ll feel better soon. Oh! Can you add that to the schedule? It’s at four.”

  Barby nods before marking the schedule then smiles at Stella, “Done! Now, Wes, you have a meeting with Melissa Wilson, the horror romance author you’ve been looking at, she’s from eight to ten. I have conference room B set up for you.” She looks back down at her legal pad. “Stell, Mr. Jude has been trying to reach you. I figured if you wanted him to have your number, you would’ve given it to him, so I didn’t offer. I did, however, promise to book him for your first available meeting slot. He’ll be in at eight, you two are set up in conference room D. I set the file on your desk that has his up to date manuscript and the new cover art he is looking at to give ‘Twisted’ a new facelift. I left two hours open for the meeting. At ten, you’ll meet with Wes and five potential hires for the editor position.” Barby looks over towards me before continuing, “After lunch you have a two o’clock meeting with Silver Marketing, then a four o’clock meeting with—“ Her face scrunches up. “Sorry… Your father and the National Publishing House Society board members. The receptionist of NPHS said this was an annual meeting.”

  I nod feeling my temper rise at the mere mention of my father’s name.

  “Stella, I don’t have anything on the schedule for you after lunch. I’ll leave you and Wes to discuss whether or not he wants you in his two o’clock with Silver.”

  I stare at Stella over my desk before Barby interrupts, “Wes, did I leave anything out?”

  I slightly smile at her before taking the files. “Nope. Excellent as always. Thanks Barby.”

  After she leaves me and Stella alone in my office, neither one of us speaks for a while. Stell’s the first to break the silence.

  She clears her throat before speaking. “Wes, I’d be happy to sit in on your meeting with Silver. I-I mean, if you want me. Err… I meant if you want, if you think I should.” Her head ducks down and she coughs.

  “You’ve sat in on plenty of meetings with our marketing companies. I don’t see how this one would be any different than those. You’re free to leave at lunch.” I smile at her then look back down at Wilson’s files.

  “Oh. Okay. Well, I’ll see you at eleven,” She stands up and gathers her things. “Have a good morning, Wes. And I guess a good weekend too.” She shrugs her shoulders and makes her way from my office. Every click of her heels is a fucking gun shot to my chest.

  I stare blankly at the door she walked out, rubbing my chest and praying for Derrick to hurry up with some damn information.

  Chapter 27

  I’m Sorry…Fucking What?

  Jesus, Mary, and Joseph. It has finally happened. I have wondered almost daily for as long as I could remember, how much longer my sanity would hold out. How much time I had before my cheese finally slipped right the fuck off my cracker.

  And now I know. It wasn’t the constant nightmares that did me in, it wasn’t the horrid memories of being raped and molested by every father figure and a brother figure that cracked my marbles. No. Ugly and hate, perversion and vitiation are not the precipitators of my mental collapse.

  Falling in love with the man I swore to hate, trusting him, being honest with him. Giving him absolutely everything that I could and watching as he walks away from it like it never mattered - in the end, love is what destroyed me.

  I sit behind my desk staring blankly at the wall crying. Crying over a broken heart. I couldn’t be more weak if I tried. I am utterly disgusted with myself. If I wasn’t so afraid of the pain, or botching it and winding up a vegetable, I would put a bullet in my head just to save the world from the pitiful excuse I have become.

  I glance at the clock. Shit! It’s seven fifty two! After grabbing my purse I jog-slash-walk to the ladies room.

  I splash water on my face then pat it dry. I’m digging through my purse, trying to find enough make-up to fix the current state my face is in, when Barby walks into the bathroom.

  “Hey, girl.” When I look up and she catches sight of me in the mirrors reflection, her smile vanishes. “Oh, shit. Oh, shit! I was hoping you were really sick. Oh, shit that sounds terrible. I mean…” She sighs as defeat takes over her features. “I know Wes has been weird all week. And the tension during schedule was thick enough to cut with a knife. I was hoping you were calling in sick because you were sick, not because there was trouble in ‘Wes and Stell paradise’.”

  “Well, I hate to make it any worse. But I was sick, I am sick, and there is no ‘Wes and Stell’ anything anymore.” I smile sadly at her before getting back to fixing my face.

  “Well, shit! I’m so sorry, Stell. If there is anything I can do, please don’t hesitate to ask.”

  “I won’t. And thanks, Barby. You’re cool as hell. You should come out with me and my friends sometime. You’ll fit right in, girl.”

  “Hells yeah! That sounds awesome!” She practically skips into the bathroom stall.

  I’m smearing on my lip gloss when she walks out and walks to the vanity to wash her hands. I toss all my make-up into my purse and sling it over my shoulder before smiling at her. “See ya later, girl.”

  Before I can get to the door, Barby says, “You know the best way to hurt the guy that hurt you is to replace him. Or rather, make him think you’ve replaced him.” I look over my shoulder at her with an eyebrow raised and motion with my hand to keep going. “Just saying… Jude? Is hot as hell. And I know for a fact that he wants him some Stella Reeses cups.”

  “Oh?” I lean my shoulder against the wall and cross my arms. “And how do you know this?”

  “I don’t think I have ever seen an author willing to do the amount of changes or write a manuscript as fast as he does, just for the chance to see his publisher; much less, his publisher’s intern.”
She winks. “Take him for a spin. Or at least make Wes think you are.”

  I nod as I absorb her rationalization behind this. Then I look back and smirk. “Alright, I will. What can it hurt? Right?”

  “Exactly.”

  I shake my nerves out, pull my shoulders back, and hold my head up high as I open the door to conference room D. There sits Jude, leaned back in his seat, arm hooked over the back of the couch, legs spread wide. He’s wearing his signature black on black suit and tie, his long sandy blonde hair is standing up on the top of his head as though a hundred fingers have plowed through his hair. The rest barely brushes the collar of his jacket.

  Yeah, just as hot as I remembered. Can’t say it’ll be hard faking this. “Hey, Jude.” I smile brightly on my way to him. Trying not to act so obvious, I hold my hand out for a handshake I know he’s going to slap away. He always does.

  His steel colored eyes snap to mine and instantly, his face lights up and he leaps from the couch before walking to meet me halfway. As soon as I’m in reach, he picks me up and hugs me tight, chest to chest, nose to nose. “Hey, babe. You look… Wow. Radiant. That’s all I have. I know I suck. I should have more words than that. Your beauty makes me, the ‘word master’, forget how to use them.” His eyes close and he breathes in a deep breath before setting me back down on my feet.

  “Jude, you are such a flirt.” I laugh for the first time in almost a week. “Don’t you dare stop though, I need it. My self confidence needs it more than you know.” I move around the conference table and sit.

  Jude is right on my heels and he sits directly beside me. “So, I looked at the covers for ‘Twisted’. I really liked two of the five, but I need to know which one you liked the best?” I lay each possible cover on the table, side by side, before looking over at him.

  His face is smiling so sweetly at me. I hate that I fell for Wes. Why couldn’t Jude have tried harder. Been more dominant and demanded my attention the way Wes did.