Insufferable: A Dark Erotic Romance

by Alaska Angelini

  My head shook through the anger and violation.

  “I wasn’t sure whether to believe her or not. Most slaves are willing to throw others under the bus just to get the focus off of them, but I wrote down your name. After she got better and left, I looked you up.” There was something behind Jaime’s stare as his eyes met mine. “She was right. I followed you around for a few weeks. I saw your decline. And I knew… That morning you went to the cliff, you didn’t sleep the night before. It was time.”

  Tears stung my eyes and I turned to stare out of the passenger window. That night had been the hardest of my life. The suffocating feeling wouldn’t leave. I’d almost used the razor to finish me off, but I couldn’t breathe within the walls. I needed out, and I had found the perfect place before. I had wanted freedom, but I hadn’t gotten it, and Jaime was the reason why.

  “You were married before. Ugly divorce. Your ex-husband didn’t want it. You even filed a restraining order against him. Why did you leave? What did he do to you?”

  “Stop it.”

  “I have to know everything if you ever want to leave. It’s the only way.”

  “Enough.” I could barely get out the word. I wanted to fight again. Hysteria was a moment away and if I didn’t get control of myself, Jaime might very well pop me with one of those pills. If that happened, it was all over with.

  Chapter 7

  Jaime

  The rest of the drive was in silence. Now that Lydia experienced a small dose of what I needed, she had time to adjust. Her new life wasn’t going to be easy. Even in her most fearful thoughts or scenarios, she wouldn’t come close to touching on her new reality. At least this way, she had the smallest insight into how this was going to play out. It was more than anyone else got. They usually came through the door of their own free will. It was getting out again that was impossible. No one knew… no one was prepared for what was really awaiting them. Suicide wasn’t something I took lightly. I’d been there. I knew how it could control your life. Now I was the one in control, and I was willing to do whatever it took to help people battle their demons. Even if that made me into the biggest monster they’d ever have to face.

  “Oh my God.”

  Anxiety was evident in Lydia’s stare as she watched the black, iron gate open at our arrival. The initial etched on its surface had her stare shooting to me.

  “M?”

  “Master. Best remember that. I’m not Jaime to you anymore, slave. Things will be different from here on out. You have a lot of healing ahead of you. And learning. Your lessons will be hard, but they have to be done. I’ll give you four weeks.” I drove through the gate, parking in front of the large doors, turning to face her as I put the car in park. “If I fail after four weeks, I will grant you your wish. I will monitor your suicide and make sure you succeed.”

  A ragged breath left her as she stared at me in utter disbelief. “You will let me kill myself if you fail to help me?”

  “I will.”

  “That’s …” Her gaze lowered, but still she breathed out, unevenly. “You’re lying. You wouldn’t do that.”

  Rage met me head-on and I twisted my mouth as I unbuckled. “I’m not lying. There’s a cemetery in the back for those who choose to die here. Perhaps you’d like to see for yourself?”

  Disbelief didn’t leave her as I got out of the car. When I opened the passenger side door, I crouched to free her of her restraints. Tears were streaming down her face and she was staring ahead in a daze.

  “Do you think you can be civilized and walk inside on your own or do I need to keep you tied up until I get you into your room?”

  “I can walk.”

  Her voice was more monotone than anything. I knew she was lying, that she’d try to escape, but I wanted to give her the benefit of the doubt anyway. She had to see from the beginning that I was going to give her choices and if she made the wrong ones, consequences would follow.

  “Alright. I’m going to set you free. I’m trusting you. If you run, that’s going to make me angry. You don’t want to upset me, slave.”

  Slowly, her head turned toward me. Challenge was written all over her face and I met it as the side of my mouth pulled back into a grin. I couldn’t help it. The darkness within me wanted to be tapped into. No matter how much I wanted to put Lydia in the place of every other slave, she was different. I wanted her. I wanted her in ways I’d only let myself dream about. It was wrong, but I couldn’t block out the need or attraction I felt toward her.

  The glovebox fell open at my pull and I took out the key, releasing her from the cuffs. When I had her hands untied, she flexed her fists while she waited for me to move back. I did, but very cautiously.

  “You first. Walk to the door. I’ll come back for your stuff later.”

  Lydia stood, scanning the surroundings as she rose. First she glanced toward the garage in the back until her focus transferred to the gates that had us enclosed in. She took two steps forward, moving around the door so I could shut it. I knew the moment her mind flipped the escape switch. Her shoulders drew back and the sound of the door closing triggered her instincts. She pushed from her right leg and threw herself forward to race toward the garage. But I was ready. My arm locked around her waist and I jerked her to me, trapping her to my body as I made my way up the steps. She went wild. Screams poured from her mouth and she kicked and tore into the arm of my suit jacket. Just before I made it to the door, the barrier swung open.

  “Master.”

  Randle was ready, waiting as I gave him a nod and stepped through.

  “Valium, and then that will be all.”

  “No!” Lydia’s strength increased as she fought my hold, harder. Her feet were all over the place. She tried to plant one on the floor, but I didn’t give her a chance to get steady. I swung her into my arms, cradling her with a death grip while I headed for the stairs. The thrashing didn’t stop all the way to the top.

  I stalked through the open door of her new room, ignoring how my shoulder was aching at the tightness from my flexing.

  “Scream and fight all you want, but no one is going to help you.”

  I threw us down on the bed, handcuffing her to the headboard within seconds. Randle rushed through and I kept her waist pinned with my weight as I glanced back. “Give me that and get her feet.”

  The moment the pill was put in my palm, Lydia screamed in a tone so full of fear it gave me pause. The high pitch echoed from the walls and her head thrashed back and forth while she began to break right in front of me.

  “Open your mouth. This will calm you.”

  Even as I said it, I wasn’t so sure I was doing the right thing. Something wasn’t right about her reaction to the medication. I’d seen it before in the car, but now it was worse. She was terrified concerning the pills and I knew there had to be a reason. But I wanted her to tell me.

  “Slave, open your mouth.”

  “No, please. I don’t want it. Pl-ease …”

  I gripped the bottom of her face, holding it tight while she continued to try to dislodge me.

  “Tell me. You tell me right now or I make you take it.”

  The crying got worse and I could barely understand her as she tried to speak.

  “Pills. Addicted. I … don’t … want them.”

  I eased from her waist, lifting enough to make her meet my eyes. “You were addicted to pills?”

  She nodded.

  “What kind? This kind?” I held up the Valium, letting go of her face as she began to calm the smallest degree.

  “No. Ecstasy. Heroin based, speed based. Whatever I could get my hands on. I d-didn’t care.”

  My eyebrows drew in. “How long were you addicted?”

  She hesitated while she tried to catch her breath. “Three years.”

  “When was the last time you took one?”

  The door shut behind us and I knew Randle was leaving, but I hardly noticed. All of my attention was on the woman I’d spent months obsessing over. The new inform
ation soaked into my brain like a sponge and I wanted to know more. I wanted to learn everything there was to know about her.

  Lydia’s swollen eyes closed while she took a deep, ragged breath. “Before my divorce. It was the reason I left. He was feeding them to me like candy. He was the reason I got hooked to begin with.” She lifted her lids, glaring. “Are you happy? Is that what you wanted to know? That I’m a fucking druggie. A junkie who still has withdrawals years later?”

  “You’re not a druggie, you’re a survivor. You did what most people fail to—you chose life.”

  “And what a life this has been. I’m so tired. I can’t … do this anymore. I—”

  The words faltered as a sob replaced them. The new round of cries made my chest constrict. She held so much pain trapped inside and I didn’t know a fraction of who she was.

  I lifted, placing the pill on the bedside table before lowering back down over her waist. I could have easily sat on the edge of the bed and talked to her, but here I was closer, and I wanted to be near. I wanted to comfort her. To hold her and tell her everything was going to be okay—I would save her. But it wasn’t the truth. I could help Lydia, but only she could save herself.

  “What happened after your divorce? What did you do?”

  “I don’t want to talk about this. Can’t you leave me alone? You have me here. Isn’t that enough?”

  “No. I have to know. Might as well get it out of the way now.”

  “You have no right! This is my personal life, not yours to dissect.”

  I nodded through her rising anger. “True, but you’re dead. If you want your life back, if you want the choice of what happens with it, you’ll have to relive it all. I want to know everything.”

  “Then I can leave?”

  “Not quite. You still have four weeks of lessons. But those four weeks won’t begin until you get this out of the way. You can tell me or withhold for as long as you’d like. The choice is yours. It’ll just mean you’re here longer.”

  A deep sound followed Lydia’s jerking. The chains from the cuffs clinked and she yelled out louder at the restraint.

  “I hate this. I hate you for what you’re doing.”

  I brushed back the hair stuck to her cheek. How many times had I heard those words or something similar? It was amazing that it never affected me like it had now. I didn’t want her to hate me, but this had to be done.

  “Start from your earliest memories. Do not leave anything out. I don’t care if this takes all night. Don’t stop until you reach this moment right here.”

  Chapter 8

  Lydia

  Heat burned my cheeks as I tried to control the rage inside of me. This wasn’t fair. Had I not been through enough? And now this?

  I clenched my teeth, tearing my gaze from Jaime’s to look off into the distance of the room. It was nicely set up. The antique furniture gave a comforting feel and I stopped as I reached the white lace curtains. Seeing outside was impossible. I’d noticed the metal shutters covering the windows when we pulled up. I’d probably never see light from my window for as long as I was here … or alive. It gave me a sad feeling as I exhaled through the ache in my heart. I hated this, and I hated what he was doing. I recognized implacable when I saw it. Jaime wouldn’t stop or let me go until I opened up.

  “It was just before sunrise. I had to have been three, not quite four.” I glared back at him, wanting to scream and call him names at the anger I felt for talking at all. But it didn’t last as the memory took hold. “We lived behind my grandma at the time. I can remember the grass was wet against my bare feet. I was running and scared. It wasn’t bright enough to make me comfortable traveling between our homes so I remember the air burning my lungs as I pushed myself faster. It was cool out, too. I was cold, but I knew I would be warm soon. I’d crawl in bed with her. I think I used to do that a lot back then.”

  “Where were your parents?”

  I tried to shrug, but the cuffs securing my hands gave a weak impression of it.

  “Asleep, I assume. I don’t remember them ever showing up, although I assume they eventually did. I just remember tiptoeing through her house and easing under the blankets. The … police scanner was going. It was always going. My grandma was always listening. I doubt she ever heard much, though. We lived in a very small town.”

  A few seconds went by and when Jaime didn’t say anything I let more words leave me. The room was disappearing and I was being transported back to a place that used to give me comfort. My grandma’s.

  “I must have fallen asleep because I can remember waking up and she was gone. When I climbed from bed, her and my mother were drinking coffee and watching television. I crawled in between them and … that’s all I remember. Back then it was always my mom and grandma.”

  Memories blinded me and I couldn’t help the grin that wanted to come. “My dad was a trucker. He used to be gone a lot. I actually remember the first time I can ever remember him. My mother and I were sitting on my grandma’s couch, like we did a lot in those days. We were watching some sort of mystery show when my mom suddenly got excited. Only then did I pick up on the deep hum of an engine. She grabbed my hand and we rushed outside. Although, I can recall not wanting to go. I’m not sure why I was so afraid. Even to this day, I don’t know. Maybe it was because it was an introduction to something new and somehow so young, I recognized that. I don’t know, but out walked a man from around the side of this monstrous big rig. My mom let go of me and rushed toward him, throwing herself in his arms.”

  The smile on my face grew, regardless that my young self had been so afraid. “My dad, he had this really big beard. When he smiled and crouched down before me, I noticed he was missing some teeth. So young, I didn’t judge him or think much of it. There was something warming in his happiness to see me. I felt some of my fear fade away. But then he put his arms out toward me. I knew he wanted me to go to him, but I was too scared. I didn’t know who he was. I think I may have even taken a few steps away.”

  “I feel like ice cream. Do you like ice cream?”

  “That’s what he said to me. I don’t remember how they got me in the truck or if I even went willingly, but the next thing I remember is sitting in his big truck eating a chocolate dipped cone, and he was smiling, again. We were talking, but I can’t remember what about.”

  “I somehow knew he was my dad in that moment. And I … loved him. I can feel that, thinking back. Somehow, between the ride and eating the ice cream, my dad made me adore him. And I did from that moment on. Even when things got really bad in my teenage years, nothing that happened ever made my love for him fade. He was a great man.”

  “He passed a few years back.” Jaime’s soft tone had me breaking my focus on the window to look at him. The tears that were burning my eyes escaped and I nodded, sniffling as I tried to push away the pain. The anger was still present, but hard to focus on when guilt over my life was lurking in the background. So many emotions, so many regrets.

  “Cancer. He was a smoker.”

  My lips pressed together and there was no stopping the continuous sobs that kept leaving me at random moments. This was too much. Too hard to relive.

  “I didn’t see him much toward the end. Not because I didn’t want to, but because he didn’t live here. He remarried during my teens and her family was from Oklahoma. They relocated there. I saw him once, a year before he passed. I was so drugged up though that I barely remember it.” Another sob. “God, help me, what he must have thought of me. Of what I’d become.”

  “You don’t know what he thought.” Jaime’s fingers slid against the side of my cheek as he drew me to look at him. “You were his daughter. He loved you.”

  “But he had to have known,” I whispered. “He wanted great things for me and the last thing he would have seen was me … that way.”

  “Like I said, we don’t know. And even if he did suspect, it wouldn’t have changed his love for you. That is what you need to hold to—truths, not assumptions. Spec
ulation gets us nowhere, and half the time we’re wrong. The torture we bring to ourselves over what-if’s is more damaging than reality will ever be.” Jaime’s hand traveled upward and he wiped the tears from the side of my face. “These are little things we can move past. Now tell me more. You mentioned your teenage years were bad. Why? Is that when these feelings of suicide came? Can you remember the first time it crossed your mind?”

  I blinked through the memories. “I was twelve.” I stopped, glancing up at him. “It was the night I started cutting.”

  “Twelve?”

  “Yes.” My eyes lowered and I was gone from the room. “It was raining out. I remember my parents decided we were just going to eat at home because they didn’t want to go out in the storm. We were sitting at the table and I can remember being anxious. I wasn’t sure why, but it was so bad that I can remember having a hard time eating. My hands were trembling and I felt sick. My mother noticed and thought maybe I was getting ill. I … pretended I was. I didn’t want her to worry. I was so scared.”

  The hall of my childhood home was suddenly before me and I could see my old door grow closer as I rushed forward.

  “I excused myself from the table and went to my room. The need to curl into a ball and cry was overwhelming. I had so much sadness and anger. And it was over nothing. Everything had been fine that I can remember. I just crumbled under it all.”

  My reflection in my dresser mirror was blurred, just like all of those years ago. I was already crying, already hating the person who looked back. She was ugly, fat, just like the kids at school constantly said.

  I blinked her away, glancing at Jaime. He was studying me.

  “What did you see?”

  I sniffled, rolling my eyes. “Stupid kid stuff. I was bullied in school. Nothing too extreme. Name calling, that sort of thing. I remembered it when I was looking in the mirror. I can remember the taunting voices in my head feeding the flames of my breakdown. I hated looking at myself. It’s what caused me to grab the CD case and break it. I used the jagged plastic to, well, you know.”