Lana's Awakening

by Kristin Elyon

  “You ok?”

  It was quite a shift in their normal conversations, her asking him this question, but she was concerned about him, especially after the night before. She never wanted to hurt him, and she knew all too well, he knew where she got the idea for the mask. He chuckled lightly at her question, seemingly seeing the sincerity it held within it.

  “I’m good,” he answered. “Want a drink?”

  “Several.”

  His smiled broadened as he took her hand and led her into the kitchen. His touch was soft; gentle. Lana felt a calming reassurance in his touch, the smile on his face. They were going to be ok, no matter where things ended up. She did love him, more than she might have realized before this moment, and the last thing she wanted to do was hurt him.

  “Have a seat,” he told her as they passed the table, “I’ll get them.”

  She slid into the chair and watched him as he got the glasses. She expected him to pull the bourbon out of the cabinet next to the one with the glasses, but he surprised her by getting the wine instead. He wasn’t much of a wine drinker, though he seemed to enjoy it with certain meals she cooked. He pulled the cork, and after placing a glass in front of her, started to pour.

  “Say when.”

  “After a couple of these?”

  He laughed as he pulled his chair around the corner of the table and sat beside her, not right up against her, but close enough to touch. He filled his own glass before setting the bottle between them on the table. He tilted his glass toward her, and she met it halfway with her own, a wordless toast to something, anything. Perhaps everything. There was a strange understanding between them in this moment, but it was unclear just exactly what it might be. Whatever it was, she knew they would get through it, happy, if not completely unscathed.

  “You can get your smokes if you like,” he said, catching her a bit off guard. Apparently, her

  cleaning attempts after Tink’s visits weren’t as good as she had thought. She couldn’t help but wonder how long he had known. But it really didn’t matter anyway. She didn’t have a pack, she rarely did, and for the most part, she didn’t want one.

  “Nah, thinking about giving them up anyway.”

  “Yea, shit’ll kill ya.”

  They shared another laugh at this, both of them knowing the real conversation was still hanging just over their heads, just out of reach, out of sight. Neither dared to look up, but at the same time, it seemed neither of them was going to step out from underneath it either. When it did fall, one of them, if not both, was going to get hurt, and neither wanted to be the one to pull the lever. But it had to be done. After he poured them another glass of wine each, Lana knew it was going to have to be her. She wanted to start with ‘forgive me for what I am about to do,’ but inside, she guessed he already knew that too.

  “Seriously, Serg, you ok?” she finally managed, already knowing the answer, but unable to start it any other way.

  “Yea, I am. I’m just a bit scared. You know?”

  She did know, all too well. He knew everything was about to change, and he dreaded it, but he also knew it had to change, because they had, both of them. The girl he had fallen in love with no longer existed, perhaps she never did. He could see that now, just as she could now see he would never be able to live with who she was, what she needed. It would kill him to try.

  “Last night was…” she started, not really sure if she could finish the line.

  “Last night was painful,” he finished.

  “Yea, but that’s not what I meant.”

  “I know; I meant it was painful for me.”

  “What do you mean?”

  She knew what he meant, to some degree anyway, but she wanted to be sure. She needed him to say it for her, and for him. It wasn’t him in bed with her the night before; it was what he thought she wanted him to be, what she thought she wanted him to be, but it wasn’t really him.

  “I didn’t like who I was,” he said, staring at his glass. She wanted to see his eyes at this moment, but feared if she stopped him, he’d never get started again. So she waited, and let him take all the time her needed. “Hell, I haven’t liked this from the start, this whole slave, submission thing. I just figured you needed it, some sort of, and don’t get mad, but some kind of shock therapy or something, to help you get over everything that happened. But that’s not it, is it?”

  It wasn’t an easy question. It was, but then again, it wasn’t, not really. It had been a catalyst of sorts, a jumping off point, but it hadn’t been to get over anything, but rather more to experiment with the change it has caused in her. She wasn’t trying to fix herself; she was trying more to understand herself. But he wasn’t waiting for an answer.

  “I always thought I loved you enough to do anything you needed, anything you wanted,” he continued. “And I do love you, probably more than you know, but it has been tearing me up in side, wondering if every time I got out the paddle, if you were wishing I was him, if you were wishing you weren’t you. It fucking hurt like hell to act disappointed, knowing damn well that most of the time you did it on purpose, so I would be disappointed, so I’d hurt you.”

  He was looking at her now, and a part of her wished he wasn’t. It wasn’t anger in his eyes, though his voice had risen from time to time; it was pain. Trying to create her new image, her life, she had been destroying him. And she could see it now. It hadn’t been just the last few days; it had been all along. She wanted to tell him she was sorry, that she never meant to hurt him, but he wasn’t finished; he had more to get out, and if not now, it might never get out. So she sat there, tears starting to flow from her eyes, burning her cheeks, hurting more than anything had ever hurt in the bedroom.

  “I love you Lana, more than anything,” he continued, the tears forming I his own eyes now. “But I can’t hurt you like that. I can’t pretend to be disappointed in you anymore, because I’m not; I never have been.”

  “Even now?” she asked, no longer concerned that he might stop talking, realizing he had been stronger all along than she had given him credit for.

  “Especially not now,” he said, his voice quivering under the strain of the words, “especially not now. I’m not disappointed in you; I’m disappointed in me. I know you need more from me than I can give you, someone stronger, someone who loves you enough to put your needs before his own, Christ.”

  His hands collapsed against his face as he said the last line, and he sobbed openly now. Lana wanted so badly to reach for him, to hold and comfort him, but she knew she couldn’t. He wouldn’t let her, not now. She cried with him, hurting for him and wanting to hate herself for his tears. He thought he was the selfish one in all this? He got himself together enough to continue, wiping his face with the back of his hand before continuing.

  “Last night was just so painful. The more I hurt you, the more you liked it. I got so angry, so fucking angry, at you, at me, at everything. And then…”

  His voice faltered again. She didn’t know if he was going to be able to say it, she almost hoped he wouldn’t.

  “…and then I did want to hurt you,” he finally managed. “I wanted to hurt you so bad. But it was different. I didn’t want to hurt you for you; I wanted to hurt you for me. Oh Jesus! I think I wanted to kill you last night.”

  “Oh Serg…” she started, unsure if what would come next, wanting to help him, heal him, to take it all back, but he cut her off again.

  “I’m sorry Lana, but I really think I wanted to kill you.” His voice was coming back to him, and his tone was lower, almost too quiet to hear as he looked up at her again and went on.

  “When you passed out, well at least I think you passed out, I thought I had. I thought you were gone, I mean really, really gone. I came in here and got knife. I was going to cut my wrists.” Another pause, as he gathered the strength to finish. “But when I went back into the bedroom, you had moved, not much, but enough that I could see you were still alive. I checked your pulse to make sure it was true and then
I sat there beside you all night. I couldn’t leave the room. I couldn’t think. I wanted to call an ambulance, just to be sure, but I didn’t, not because I thought you were fine, or that I would go to jail, but I was afraid you would be disappointed in me.”

  Lana sat across next to him, unable to speak. She wanted to tell him she was sorry, that she’d never do it again, that she was wrong, but she couldn’t even open her lips, much less form words. There were none. Not for this. So she did the one thing she was able to do, the one thing she thought he might let her do; she took his hand and held it while he cried, while she cried.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  “You come up with an answer?” Master Blue asked him, smiling that same smile that said he already knew the answer, but was just asking to let him say it out loud. Tom Tinkerton smiled. It was time for him to do the right thing, for himself, to be the man he had set out to be. And for Lana. He finally figured out he liked her more than he had wanted to admit. And he liked her enough to do the right thing for her.

  “Yea, I was wondering if I could introduce you to her.”

  Master Blue smiled back at him. Yea, he knew what Tinkerton was going to say, before he said it, before he left his office before. He knew.

  “I thought you’d never ask.”

  To be continued…

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