by Molly Wens
"Shortly after I discovered I was pregnant again, he decided to stop taking the medication. Things got bad then. I was in my eighth month with Alicia when he hit me the first time. He knocked me across the room. He was insane at that moment, and I managed to get out of the house to the neighbor's. He was locked up in the psych ward. I gave birth while he was in the hospital, and he didn't even get to see his new daughter until she was two weeks old. When he came home, I told him that if he ever went off his meds again he would be out of my life forever. He cried and promised to take care of the kids and me, and spend the rest of his life making it up to me.
"There were times when he'd just seem to give up. He'd stay in bed for weeks at a time, and have nothing to do with any of us. Then the doctors would change his medication again and everything would get better again. One day I came home from work early to find the house in a shambles with him on the floor in the kitchen ranting about something. He looked insane, clutching a huge knife, and when he saw me, I swear I saw murder in his eyes. I ran out of there fast.
"He was taken back to the hospital and I packed up my kids and moved away. I couldn't take anymore. Every day I'd wonder if that would be the day I would wake up to find my children slaughtered and my own throat cut. When my attorney served him with the papers a few months later, he came to my mother's house and started beating me. Mom tried to stop him but he hit her, too. While his back was turned, attacking Mom, I broke a vase over his head. The worst of it was that my kids saw it happen and Mom got hurt.
"I got full custody of the kids. He wasn't even allowed supervised visits. But before I left on my business trip, he was petitioning the court, saying that he was under a doctor's supervision and his condition had been stabilized. I'm so worried that he will get his hands on them. I'm scared of what he'll do."
Bryce's arms tightened around her little body as if to shield and protect her. He had no words that would offer comfort, only the anger he felt toward the man who had caused so much pain in Carissa's life, and the sadness of knowing she would have to leave him at the end of the winter. He did not want to think of the loneliness or the emptiness of his mountain cabin after she was gone. She had become everything to him, his world and his reason for living.
"Bryce,” she said softly, looking into his eyes. “I told you mine, now it's your turn."
"Drop it, Carissa,” he told her for the hundredth time. How could he tell her what had happened and what he'd done? How could he bear to watch that light of love go out in her fathomless green eyes?
She sat up and pulled slightly away from him. “I won't drop it, Bryce,” she said softly, gravely. “Something is eating you alive. I can feel it and I can see it. I know that something truly horrible happened. If you tell me what it is, maybe I can help you through it."
He lifted her off his lap, standing and depositing her nude form back onto the chair. “Leave it be. Leave me be!” he yelled.
Carissa sat in stunned silence, staring up at his face and the anger that smoldered in his gray eyes. She watched as he turned on his heel, pulling clothing out and dressing in fluid movements. He looked like a predator, quick and graceful and out for blood, his eyes dark and foreboding. As he pulled his boots on, Carissa decided that enough was enough and stood to face him boldly.
"That's enough!” she yelled. “Where the hell are you going in the middle of the night?"
He merely glared up at her from his position on the edge of the bed. My God, he thought, but she's beautiful. He did not stop what he was doing, however, as he stood to walk around her. He had to get away from her before he did something stupid, such as unburden his heavy soul.
She blocked his path, putting all her diminutive weight and strength into shoving him back. “You don't get to walk away from this. Why are you so scared to open up to me? Don't you trust me by now?” Her voice had dropped to a soft plea.
Bryce hated the pain he saw in her eyes and knew that she was feeling betrayed. He grasped her arms, giving her a little shake before drawing her into his embrace. She was shivering, as much from emotion as from the cold, he knew. He hugged her tightly, burying his face in the fragrant locks of her hair and inhaling her essence as if for the last time. She had hit the point dead-on when she had asked if he trusted her. He did not know if he could trust her with this terrible secret, if he could trust her to still care about him, to not fear him as all the others had.
He scooped her body up into his arms, and turning, laid her down on the bed, settling her against the pillows. After retrieving and tucking the quilt around her, he sat on the edge of the bed and turned his face away from her, slumped forward with his elbows on his knees. They sat silently for long moments before Bryce finally spoke.
"I want to trust you, Carissa, but I'm not ... I did something bad, really bad. I have no right to expect anyone to care about me, especially someone as special as you.” His voice trailed off into the torment that was consuming his soul.
Carissa sat up and drew her knees to her body, leaning forward and wanting to touch him. She pulled her hand back, deciding to let him talk in his own time and to listen quietly. Her heart was breaking at the pain she heard in his voice, a pain born of self-loathing and self-recrimination.
He pushed his hand through his hair, the length of it falling about his shoulders in a cloud of black. Keeping his back to her, he searched for the words to tell her what he had done. “I was married,” he said at long last. “I don't think I told you that. She was beautiful and I loved her. She had a way of smiling at me that made everything disappear except for her smiling face. She wanted lots of kids and a house in the country—and she wanted me.” He stopped again, bowing his head and rubbing his palms together between his legs.
Taking a deep, shaky breath, he continued. “Her family was in Washington State. We had decided to come out west to visit both our families. We took an extended vacation and drove across country, sight-seeing and...” He stopped as if the pain of memory was too much for him, his voice dying away on a quiver.
He cleared his throat and started again. “We'd already spent a few days at my dad's and we went up to Yellowstone. We were on route fourteen, heading north. It was getting dark. There wasn't much traffic, still early in the season. We wanted to camp near Indian Creek, maybe do some fishing in the morning, or just go hiking."
He fell silent. Memories came flooding back, terrible memories of his wife's horrified voice screaming, memories of her bloodied face begging him to help her. He struggled to get control of the pain that threatened to choke the life out of his body. “We were laughing at some stupid joke. I turned to look at her, she was so beautiful and so happy. Then her expression changed to horror and I turned to see but it was too late. There was a truck, a fucking drunk driver, they told me later. It was coming at us. I tried to get out of the way but it was just too late. I heard her scream and then everything went black. I guess I was knocked unconscious."
His next words were spoken, haltingly, in hushed tones, the pain in his voice, unbearable to hear. “When I woke up, my legs were pinned. Everything was dark except for a beam of light from somewhere above us. It took me a minute to figure out that the roof of the car was gone and that a truck was sitting on top of us, one of its headlights was dangling and still lit. I heard a sound like the gurgling of water and turned to see Anna. She was pinned and covered in blood. Blood was coming out of her mouth and nose. Her eyes were staring straight up, she wasn't moving."
He ground the heels of his hands into his eye sockets, as if to drive out the images that clouded his vision. The memories sat like a weight on his chest, pushing the air from his lungs, crushing his heart in its grip and robbing him of his strength. There was no way to shut out the sound of the appalling scream that played over and over in his mind like a broken record. The sensation of the crimson stickiness of blood on his hands was so real he had to look at them, try to wipe them clean on his jeans. The smell of pain and fear hung in the air of the cabin as it had permeated the
air that night. Above all, the vision of her eyes, their light dwindling in his sight, hovered in front of him, haunting him to his core.
"I pulled myself up as much as I could and leaned over to look at her. She looked at me. She was terrified and in so much pain. I could see the chassis of the truck was crushing her. She was cut nearly in two above her waist. Each breath she took was more pain than she could stand. She put her lips together, said one word, ‘Please’ and it sounded like death in my ears."
Bryce stopped again, his body rigid as the torment of that moment ripped through his soul. The memory of that sputtered word, the blood that splattered on her scant breath was fresh in his mind, as he relived the anguishing devastation of that night. A sound akin to that of a wounded bear rumbled in his chest as he fought his way through the pain.
He could not explain the horror of seeing her like that, the look in her eyes as pain, unbearable and anguishing, grilled into her. How could he tell Cari the way Anna gasped for every breath or how she had looked at him when he had tried to tell her she would be okay, that she just had to hang on? They both knew she was dying, no one could survive the injuries that she had sustained. Every word of comfort fell inadequately from his lips.
"A park ranger was there, told me to hang on, he was going to call for help, but Anna was pleading. She needed me to help her.” He clenched his eyes closed, lost in horror. The truck had shifted; the soundless scream that had come from Anna's mouth was all it took. He could not let the pain continue, the begging in her eyes, the need for release was all it took. “I put one hand over her eyes. I couldn't stand to watch them anymore. She was hurting so ... I ... couldn't.... I put the other hand over her mouth and nose ... suffocated her ... choked the life ... I killed her. I had to."
His words died away to a rattling, painful snarl in his throat. He took several shaking breaths before continuing. “The ranger saw what I was doing and tried to stop me. It was too late; she was gone. I killed my wife. They called me a murderer. I killed her to stop her pain. I had to. She couldn't stand it.” A sob tore from his throat as he felt Carissa's warm body pressing against his back, her arms wrapping around his shoulders and pulling him back into her. “I loved her and I killed her."
"You didn't kill her, Bryce. A drunk did. You only eased her pain.” Carissa crooned behind him, against his ear.
He reached around and pulled her into his arms, burying his face against her neck. His body shook violently as she ran her hands over his head and shoulders, trying to soothe away the guilt and pain that had been consuming him for years. “I love you, Bryce,” she whispered.
He pulled his head up to look into her eyes. He was searching for the loathing that he expected to see, still believing that she would turn from him now that his ugly secret was out. What he saw became his saving grace, for what he saw was the truth of her words. That light had not gone out, but was burning more brightly than the sun, and brought warmth to the cold, dead recesses of his damaged soul. He found redemption in those eyes, atonement in the way she welcomed him into her heart, unconditionally and without reservation. She was his salvation.
Burrowing his face in her hair, he hugged her tightly, nearly crushing her in his fierce embrace. When her ribs began to throb under his grip, she began to work his arms loose, pushing him gently back on the bed. She helped him to remove his clothing, then slid under the blankets with him to press the heat of her body against his still-shaking frame. Murmuring soft words against his skin, she held him until he dropped off into a deep, dreamless sleep. Carissa had reached him at last, broken through that wall that he had erected around his pain, and helped him to let go. She closed her eyes and drifted off, listening to the steady rhythm of his heart under her ear.
A clear sky and bright sunshine streamed through the windows of the cabin, setting the room ablaze with unfamiliar brilliance, as Bryce slowly climbed out of the deep sleep that had subdued him in the night. Heat suffused his muscles, along with a sensual pleasure that robbed him of his ability to focus his mind. Something small and alive was nestled between his legs; warm breath and wet heat surrounded the area of his groin. A moan escaped his lips as he tossed the blankets back to discover Carissa's burning green eyes smiling up at him from her position below his waist.
"About time,” she said as she slowly stroked her small hand down the length of his shaft. “Your dick and I have been up for hours, just wondering when you'd get in on the act."
A deep, throaty chuckle rumbled in his chest and rasped into a growling moan as she lowered her sweet mouth over half the length of him. “Dear God, woman,” he groaned as his hips rose of their own volition. “You must be a witch."
His hand reached out, boring his long fingers into the tangles of her hair. The moist inferno of her mouth drove his need to a fevered pitch, relentlessly caressing and teasing him. He warned her of the impending explosion building in his center, but she pursued that release, quickening her pace as she moved over his throbbing cock. With one mighty thrust, he drove into her throat, detonating in streams of heated liquid and ragged growls.
His sated body sagged onto the mattress, shuddering as she slowly caressed his throbbing member with her tongue, drawing the pleasure out as long as possible. Finally releasing her feast, she slid her body up along his until she lay upon his chest, ruffling his hair lightly with her delicate hand. She smiled impishly into his eyes, causing his heart to skip a beat.
"What a way to wake up,” he grinned back at her.
"I tried everything else. You were sleeping like a log."
Bryce stroked his hands down the silken curve of her slender back and over the rounded firmness of her bottom. “You've been wearing me out, sweetness,” he said as he squeezed the tantalizing flesh under his fingers. He worked his hands lower, between her thighs to the wet silkiness of her sex, his fingers dancing slowly along the length of her slit.
Her impassioned moan was all the incentive he needed to roll her onto her back and return the favor. His movements were slow, almost lazy, as he explored her body with his mouth and his hands. He kissed her lips languorously, his tongue teasing its way past her small, white teeth to the sweet nook of her mouth where it waltzed gently with the pink flesh of her tongue. Drawing the kiss out, he kept his hands in play, lightly sweeping her arms with his fingertips and tangling softly in her hair.
Ending the kiss, he rolled onto his side and propped his head up on his hand to better view the expressions on her lovely face as he pursued her pleasure at a leisurely pace. The faint scars on her face from her misadventures in the wilderness were fading slowly away, he noted with no small amount of joy. She would not be marked for everyone in the world to see, as he was, something he would not wish on anyone.
As he trailed his fingers over the rest of her curved body he inspected each of her injuries with care, each of them having healed completely. Though one or two of the scars looked as if they would be permanent, he felt that the rest would disappear with time. Her hands, he noticed as he laced his fingers through hers, were still rough, dry and red but they would heal soon and the fingernails were growing back nicely. He kissed her fingertips, drawing each into his mouth to suckle individually, drawing sweet sighs from her lips.
He returned to lightly stroking the skin of her torso, starting with the delicate, tender flesh at the base of her throat, trailing along her collarbones and down her arms, one at a time. To him, the experience was similar to caressing the fine petals of a spring rose. His fingers moved on, light as a feather, to the straight line of her breastbone, lingering in the valley between her firm, plump breasts as she arched her back and caught the tempting treat of her lower lip in her sharp, little teeth.
"You're driving me crazy,” she moaned up into his smoldering eyes.
A deep, husky chuckle rumbled in his chest as she squirmed urgently under his touch. “Good, then we're even,” he grinned in return.
Circling a finger around the globe of her left breast, he moved round and round th
e quivering flesh in ever decreasing circles until he came in contact with the straining peak of her dark pink nipple. Her voice whimpered at him, her back arching against his hand as he twirled the hardened knot between his fingers, pulling gently to heighten her pleasure. When he had teased the bit of flesh into a tortuous welt, he moved on to the right one, treating it with the same tormenting thoroughness.
By the time he slid his open palm over the gentle slope of her belly, Carissa was writhing in pleasurable agony and moaning her urgency. Bryce slipped his frame down the bed, keeping his eyes at the same level of her body as his hand, watching how her skin tightened under the touch of his hand. Her body was mesmerizing to him, an obsessive delight to see, hear, taste and smell. He took in every nuance down to her insistent whimper as he tickled her navel.
He moved his body down farther, sitting to take her slender leg into his hands and caress the entire length. He enjoyed the way her bottom lifted as his fingers moved near the apex between her thighs, and the moan of protest as he released that limb to take hold of the other. Finally, he spread her knees widely, seating himself between them as his hands skimmed up the silken flesh of her inner thighs.
Carissa let her eyes travel the length of her body to where he was kneeling, gazing at her with a burning passion that only fueled her own flames. His hands were driving her to the edge of her endurance, and if that were not enough, she could feel on her skin everywhere that his eyes touched, a blazing path over her flesh that heightened the color in her cheeks. His thorough inspection had her wanting to cover herself or throw him down and have her way with him; she could not seem to make up her mind.