It was a good two hours when the doctor finally inhaled and made a grunting noise like she was done and knew what his problem was.
“Thanks, Kelly, you can rest. I’m going to leave the room for a moment,” Dr. Jeffries said, motioning for Casey to follow her.
“It’s Kel. I hate the name Kelly.” He moved over to the couch and stretched out, his face worn and his body limp.
She padded out the door after Jeffries; they moved a few feet away.
“Well? How bad off do you think he is? Can you help him?” Casey’s heart hammered in her chest, and her hands fisted at her sides so she shoved them in her pockets. The doctor didn’t need to see how uptight and wrapped up in him Casey was.
“It’s . . . With proper medication and some intense therapy, yes, he might be okay. But I have to say, I’ve never seen such a complicated case before. His touch issues are all psychosomatic—that’s clear.” Jeffries sighed. “At first I thought it was split personality, but then things shifted. Definite paranoid schizophrenic and possible PTSD as well. I’d also like to get a polygraph in here, because honestly, a lot of what he said sounded completely fabricated. Where did you meet him?” Jeffries shoved her glasses up higher on the bridge of her nose.
“He owns a club. I met him there when I attended with two friends.” Casey swallowed hard to keep the bile from coming up that was threatening at the back of her throat to claw its way out. What if he could get the proper medication? If he was well, she could be with him. They could really do this.
She couldn’t deny she cared about him, and almost felt desperate at the thought of him leaving her life, even to be institutionalized for a short period of time.
The doctor gave her an impatient look, so Casey asked, “Okay, so what needs to be done to get him checked in?”
“I don’t think he’s going to be too keen on this. It might take some coaxing to get him to sign himself in voluntarily. Maybe you could help with that?” Jeffries shifted her weight to her left foot and gazed at him through the glass with a look of concern etched in her eyes. “How well do you know him?”
“It’s kind of complicated. I spent the night with him, and he talks in his sleep. He told me all sorts of stuff when he was drunk, too, so I don’t know—I get the feeling he doesn’t have a lot of friends, and he told me he’s without a family.” Casey shrugged.
“You may know him better than anyone right now, so unfortunately, this responsibility kind of falls to you. It was your caring hand that guided him here to me; now it’s going to be your hand that helps him sign in for hospitalization. He needs help.” Jeffries exhaled and glanced at the floor for a moment. “Any questions?”
“No. I can go get some of his stuff for him, and I’ll be in everyday so if he needs anything else he—”
“Sorry, but no visitors. I don’t think I can allow that at this time. He has violent tendencies, and we have no idea how he might react to being medicated. For your safety . . .”
Casey’s stomach free-fell through her body and her breath followed after. Her entire innards clenched hard. “What do you mean I can’t visit? He needs me!”
“Oh, no—this is what I was afraid of. People like him wrap their victims up in their stories, and it’s hard to keep from enabling them. He’s dependent on you, and you’ve already become co-dependent. You know the signs, Ms. Long. You’re a social worker, and this isn’t permitted in your line of work.” Jeffries set a hand on her shoulder.
Casey shrugged right out of it. “It’s not like that. This man,” she stepped closer and got in her face, “was deprived of touch as a child. He craves it like you and I need to have oxygen to survive. If he’s cut off, he’ll go ballistic and then shut down. And you’ll probably blame it on the medication, but it’s not that. He has to be touched, and preferably by a woman.”
“Yes, he told me his issues with touch. He said it hurts, but he has to have it.” She huffed for a moment and then steadied her breath.
Casey crossed her arms and leaned against the window. “And what are you going to do when he comes undone? Put him in a straitjacket? He’s not crazy.”
“No one ever said he was. He’s ill and needs help, and the best way to do that is—”
“We’re done here. I can’t help you with this plan. I’m taking him, and we’re leaving,” Casey said, her throat constricting and her breaths shallowing as the flight response kicked in.
She rammed her way back through the door into the office and extended her hand. “Come on, baby, we’re leaving this place. I thought this was a good idea, but obviously I was wrong.”
He stood up and beamed at her. “I knew you’d see . . .”
“Yes, I see, sweet man.” Casey kissed his cheek, and he winced.
Shit! Would she ever remember that stung him and caused him inner turmoil?
“We’re leaving now,” Casey confirmed once more to the doctor.
“Then you’re leaving against medical advice. You’ll need to sign this form,” the doctor said, grabbing something off her desk and shoving a paper toward Casey.
“I’m not signing anything. You did this as a favor, and I paid, but that’s it. Just pretend like we were never here.” Casey marched toward the door, Kel nipping at her heels.
“You know I can’t do that. I’ll have to report this,” Jeffries warned.
“You do that, and see if we’re concerned.” Casey glared at her.
“And see if you can catch us. We’ll be long gone before you even figure out what to do about us leaving.” He smiled.
Fuck—he was gorgeous when he wore that playful smirk.
“C’mon.” Casey tugged, and he picked her up, running through the medical facility like he was a kid, playing games.
God, she might be the one that would be crazy and lost without this man if she was denied his touch—not the other way around.
Chapter 7
How many times was Casey going to look at him like that? All the elation he felt when they’d left that place was gone. Those damned looks of hers! Fuck! It wasn’t that “you’re broken” look anymore. No, it was worse. It was the “what the hell can I do to help you?” look, now. So much worse.
If she thought she had to fix him, she’d exhaust herself on a lost cause.
He gripped the back of his head and stared out the window.
“You were considering it, weren’t you?”
“Considering what?” She grabbed the steering wheel tighter. He couldn’t see it since he was looking away, but he knew that sound and could feel the tension in the air.
“Getting me hospitalized.”
“Sorry, I . . . With my job—”
“Yeah, save that speech for some bastard that cares about what you do.” He clicked his teeth together and exhaled in a gust so hard it fogged up part of the window.
“Do you hate me? I was only trying to help.”
“Help yourself by taking me home and keeping away from me.” He envisioned the fog enveloping him and somehow transforming him into something she could understand and love.
“Why would you say that? I thought we liked each other,” she said, her voice breaking.
He turned to her and leaned against the door. There was this clawing feeling inside his chest like he needed to run—right this moment, and as fast as he could. Save her from the monster he was.
“You want to fix something that isn’t really broken. Because to be broken, I would’ve needed to be whole at some point. I’ve never been anything other than this. I can’t get sick—I’ve tried. When I get hurt, I heal quickly, and I grew at an alarming rate. These aren’t signs of someone being broken—they’re signs of a freak of nature. Can’t you see that what I’ve told you is true?”
“I don’t . . . What am I supposed to do? I go off fact, and I trust you to a point but—”
“Here—take a look at this.” He removed his right shoe and hooked his ankle up over his left knee. “See the bottom of my foot? It’s all scratched up, right?”
She briefly looked over, nodded then her eyes went back to the road.
“How long ago do you think this happened?”
She blinked and shifted forward in her seat. Was she uncomfortable with this? Why?
“A week ago?”
“Last night. When I was chasing after your ass, I was barefoot and when I cornered too quickly and almost laid out my bike, I used my foot to right myself, and cut it up in the process. My other foot got hit, too, but not as badly. All I did when I got back was clean it with soap and bandage it, but nothing special.”
“And what kind of proof do I have that it happened last night?”
“Come into my home. Check the garbage can in the bathroom. You’ll see the bandages right on top, and you’ll be able to see the blood’s fairly fresh.”
“That’s not—”
“Okay, then ask Max. Ask him what I looked like when I went back out in that cage; if I had bandages on my feet at that point. You know I didn’t have them on earlier when you were in the cage with me. And when he laid me down on my bed in my apartment, did you see my feet looking all chewed up then?”
“Well, no, but I—”
“But you fucking what, huh? You can’t believe me because it’s easier to believe I have some serious mental illness? Jesus fucking Christ! You talked to me, you touched me like I was normal, but then you can’t believe this part. Why?”
Her hands roamed down the steering wheel. “I don’t know. I guess if I knew more, maybe it would be easier to keep from being skeptical.” She offered a half shrug with her right shoulder.
“Cut me then. Watch how fast I heal.”
“No! I’m not gonna do that to you!”
“Do it. You can even pick a spot where no one’s likely to see it.” He bared his teeth at her. “I want you to.”
“I don’t care what you want. That’s sick, Kel, and I don’t do shit like that. Not now; not ever.” The vein in her neck throbbed and her face pinked with irritation.
“Fine. Don’t believe me. Maybe my super sperm will find a way to grow back your ovaries, you’ll be pregnant and then you’ll believe me.”
She reached out and shoved him. “That’s not funny.”
“Neither is you refusing to believe me.” He grabbed her right hand and cupped it between both of his palms. “Please, I need you to see I’m telling the truth.”
She swallowed hard, her nostrils flared and she chomped on her bottom lip. “I’m trying,” she finally said.
“Good. That’s what I want—you trying and not being a know-it-all-bitch.”
She snorted. “Yeah; that’s my occupation according to you.”
He smiled and bobbed his head. “But here’s the thing—why would I want to lie about all this?”
Her expression went blank.
“What would it get me, other than maybe being hauled off and sent to the crazy place for insane people? I would never have a hope again of getting laid, and I’d spend the next few years I have left, being poked and prodded, and not in any of the good places on my body.”
She swallowed once more, and the car went silent. No one was breathing, blinking or moving.
The music playing was all there was, and that had been turned down, so it was subdued.
“Take me home.” He turned back away. Pointless.
This whole thing had been a waste of both their time.
The rest of the drive remained suffocating in its unnatural silence.
One of the things he’d enjoyed about her up until now was how fun it was talking to her.
She always had something intelligent and thoughtful to say, even when she was dealing with his smart mouth. Which was most of the time . . .
And she handled that aspect really well. Damn, he really liked this woman.
Before exiting the car when she pulled up in the back of the club, he leaned over and said, “Just remember—not all men are assholes. Usually the ones that act like it are protecting a deep well of pain. The rest of them—well, there’s no telling what they’re really hiding if they’re acting like the good guy.”
He got out, shut the door and let his heart drop as he walked back into his drab existence and self-inflicted cage.
At least he could be touched here in some way without worrying his heart would break.
* * *
The next week dragged on.
No Casey, and none of her friends either.
He kept thinking she’d show up unannounced, call him or send some signal she wanted to talk to him.
Hell, at this point, he almost wished Doctor Jeffries had turned him in and they’d taken him away. Casey probably would’ve come to his aid, and that would’ve been better than this silence bullshit.
It was Friday. Tonight would be crawling with women.
Last weekend’s blowup by him seemed to increase business to his and Max’s shock.
Drinks had flowed, the women were especially horny and eager to touch him, but it hurt more than usual when their flesh contacted his.
He refused to let his cock free. They could grope his chest, even stroke him through his jeans, or touch his hands, but that was it.
That was all he did anymore. He slept, he was fawned on and then he drank.
The rest of what he did during the week was a blur. He received groceries at some point, and maybe talked to Max a little bit about an idea for adding more props to his cage act.
Whatever. He barely heard a word.
All he could focus on was how nobody really saw him. No one gave a fuck if it hurt him when they groped his ass or balls. Did they even notice when he winced and hissed in pain?
Probably not.
Casey had noticed all those things, but she didn’t want him. Too much of a repulsive freak.
It was four forty-five, and the bitches would be here in fifteen minutes.
He closed the curtains, tossed himself in the cage, locked it and then pocketed the key.
No more allowing Max to control any of this. It was his body—his rules.
He stared at the various sleeves he hadn’t used in weeks, sitting on the small table.
Probably wouldn’t use them tonight either. What was the point? He couldn’t come.
He’d pass out again, and the show would be over.
He kicked the chains at his feet, and his eyes narrowed as he studied them.
How many times had he broken these?
How many more times would he?
It never seemed to get old for these ladies. And no matter how hard they tried to free him and failed, they never gave up trying.
They never seemed to figure out he had super-human strength and busting out of them was second nature to him.
Not like the really thick chains he grew up in. Those fuckers never broke.
But the ones he donned here were the flimsy, ordinary ones bought at a local hardware store. Nothing special about them.
He sat down and slumped over in his chair, his insides more hollow than the space occupying this cage.
Why couldn’t he get over her already? It wasn’t like he’d known her for very long.
He sighed. His eyes glazed over as he thought about her some more, and what he’d felt like simply being near her.
What was he still doing this act for? He wanted touch, and she gave it to him better than anyone else ever had. His heart thrummed in his chest, and his skin tingled over the idea of her hands on him once more.
He knew where Casey lived. Why not visit her? But then . . . she knew where he was as well, and she hadn’t stopped by to see him.
Fuck—he wouldn’t go because there wasn’t a chance in hell he was going to grovel. She either believed him or she didn’t, and there was no way to change the know-it-all-bitch’s mind.
His head bent down.
How much longer?
He could hear faint voices at the doorway, and imagined it was Casey trying to gain early entry so she could talk to him, say hi at least.
He smeared
his sweaty hands over his face.
Jesus, he reeked. He hadn’t even bothered to change his shirt after binge drinking this afternoon and slopping some of it on himself
At least he wasn’t drunk anymore so Max wouldn’t be pissed at him, but already he wished he was hammered. How was he going to stand their hands on him tonight? No matter how much he needed it, the thought was repellent.
What was wrong with him? This shit never bothered him before.
“Hey, I was sitting there,” a woman said, presumably to some other bitch. It came from right outside the curtain.
Some hags were fighting over seats at the front table already? Jesus, this night sucked hairy balls already.
He rocked back and forth in his chair, anxious to get this over with.
All too soon, Max was announcing him and the curtain was pulled back.
Kel blinked away the blinding light echoing in his vision for a moment and then scanned the room for some ditsy blonde he could pick out as his willing victim. At least then he wouldn’t be turned on and could deal with her better.
His eyes passed over every woman he saw until they landed on the bar, and he croaked out, “You! In the cage—now!”
It was Casey’s friend—the dark-haired one. Was her name Maggie? Or Melony?
She rolled her eyes and was sluggish as she shuffled over to him.
“I’m not coming inside,” she said, gripping the bars.
“You’ll fucking come in, or I’ll drag you in by the cunt, you little slut.”
She smirked. “Is that right? What if I fight back? What will you do then?”
“Care to find out?” He wiggled his eyebrows at her, and he walked over to the door then unlocked it.
“He’s not even chained,” some stupid woman in the audience hollered.
“Fuck you,” he groaned.
“That’s the point! We want you to,” another woman heckled him as well.
He shook his head and ignored them.
“Well?” He cocked his head at Casey’s friend.
The dark-haired woman held out a folded up note. “I’m supposed to give this to you,” she said, her voice barely audible.
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