Did I hit the mirror twice? She couldn’t remember. Numbness settled in, dissipating the pain.
Joy plucked the bigger pieces from the wounds, dumped her make-up bag on the vanity and grabbed tweezers to do the rest of the job. There was no feeling as she picked out each sparkle and sliver. Once finished, she turned the faucet on and let the water wash away the drying blood.
She grabbed a towel and patted the abrasions, waiting for the bleeding to stop.
Something took her life from her. Not just her past and present but her future as well. Joy had zilch and at one time, she knew she must have had it all and more. Now only a black void existed.
Did she have siblings? Husband and children, a boyfriend?
Anger beat at her, demanding release. Rage for losing her past and present bubbled, percolating to the surface. How could she be so careless?
She reached for the pair of trimming shears on the vanity’s edge that had fallen from her makeup bag and yanked a hunk of hair over her shoulder. Her gaze glued to the reflection in the remaining piece of mirror not spider-webbed, tears fell as she opened the blades, and slid them across the strands.
“Why did I let it grow this long?” She clenched her jaw and squeezed the handle, but could not depress them completely.
Joy stared into her mirrored eyes. She hated the dire abyss there. Did the gods despise her? Had she committed some crime that turned them against her? Was this her punishment, a karmic debt?
Where did that come from? Do I worship gods in the plural?
With a snarl, she flung the scissors at the unbroken glass. It splintered and fell to the vanity top.
She’d pay for the damage when she checked out.
Hated tears coursed down her cheeks as she turned away. She stumbled toward the bed, collapsed on the comforter, and curled on her side, sobbing.
Why had she lost her memory? What happened?
Joy squeezed her eyes closed. She didn’t want to see images of the man anymore. Shoving the heels of her injured hands into her eye sockets did nothing to alleviate the heartache flowing along her veins. How could she have an emotion when she didn’t recognize the person? It did not make sense, she couldn’t interpret it. The harder she tried to remember him the more frustrated she got.
Hell, I can’t even put a face with the names in my fucking cell or place myself…
This time when the stabbing pain started, she gnashed her teeth and clenched her temples. The agony of the cuts was minimal compared to what tore through her brain. She’d take those over the cleaver splitting her head. Swallowing a moan, she inhaled. Praying sleep would be her escape.
He would be there, waiting.
“Baby, where are you?”
She sobbed in earnest as the male voice caressed her mind comfortingly and with love. The desire to relax into the soothing tone appealing, but she also wanted to remember. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t do both at the same time. It was too painful. She had to do one or the other. Right now, she wanted to escape the pain.
Joy had to let him in…fully.
He was the lesser of two evils.
She sighed as the dark curtain of sleep enshrouded her.
* * * *
Thick silence encased him. With the exception of the machines blipping and in the distance voices echoing, he sensed he was alone.
Time had no meaning while he was like this. Had it been hours or days since he heard the voice of his sister and the man she called “doctor”?
What happened to land his fool ass in the hospital?
Images of his mother’s vacation cabin filtered through the curtain behind his eyelids. He remembered leaving his tattoo parlor and traveling. Get away from what or was it a who?
“Can you hear me?”
Her voice tormented him. Jairo could see her face, but couldn’t place a name. Did he know her? Who was she to him?
He could not recall.
Someone entered the room. He sensed her life essence. Jezzaray. Scraping sounded along the floor and a warm hand folded over his.
“Jay? Can you hear me?”
Jairo tried again to squeeze his sister’s fingers, nothing happened. Was he paralyzed?
“I want you to listen to me Jay.” Her hand tightened and he heard a sniffle. “You have to wake up now. We’re waiting for you, we miss you.”
A sigh and material rustled.
“I tried calling Joy. She didn’t answer, so I left a message. As soon as she calls I’ll tell her what happened.” Pressure and a light brush against his palm, as she continued, “I know she’d want to know. Why did you go to the cabin? You said you were giving her space, I never thought you’d head there. I guess everything happens for a reason.”
Joy? Jairo focused on moving his hand, but no matter how hard he tried his body refused to heed his demands. He remained a silent observer in his present life. He wanted to ask who this Joy was, and why her name sounded familiar. Was she a part of him?
The curtain once again clouded the fuzziness behind his eyelids. He didn’t want to sleep, but his body had other ideas. Like a movie projector, images unlike earlier, filled his mind’s eye. He was one of the participants, an actor in a played-out scene.
Was it a dream, or a memory?
* * * *
Jairo watched her dance moves with a smirk as her body moved to the beat of the music, so loud it blocked the click of the door closing. She didn’t know he was home.
Arms banded across his chest, his gaze followed the curve of her bare calf and the bounce of her ass. He loved watching her move. The shake of her hips caused the animal to claw at his insides. He collared the beast so fast it barely registered she had a skirt on.
She only ever wore jeans. He swallowed.
Her filmy and long skirt cut high at the sides left her legs bare to her waist, similar to a gypsy’s dress. His mouth went dry. The gemstone anklets shifted, revealing a tattooed capitalized letter ‘J’ with an asterisk mark to the right side.
Jairo struggled to remain passive. A small part of him refused to move, or couldn’t? His gaze traveled up to her hips and then her back….the air stopped in his lungs.
The sway of her waist length hair revealed the petite blonde wasn’t wearing a shirt, just a bra. His heart dropped to his stomach. He wouldn’t be able to resist her seductive movements enticing him much longer. The leash slipped, he didn’t want to catch it as heat spread through him.
She was his.
In one fluid motion, he stepped forward and grabbed her by the waist. He twisted her around and crushed her lips under his as he backed her across the room, against a wall somewhere behind them. He had to brand her with his body…make her move for him the way she did to the music.
She belonged to him.
The animal wanted her, to make them whole. It desired to be buried deep inside her until her mind emptied of all else but him.
Jairo’s hands on either side of her head bracketed her in, and he held her still with his weight. Her hands moved up his chest, breasts arched into him.
Would she stop him? Or pull him closer?
He didn’t know—he just had to have her, now. To ease the burning in his body, only she soothed the beast he became.
Jairo gripped her thighs, lifted, and linked them around his narrow hips. Her naked heat beneath the skirt taunted him and he growled. Her wetness brushed against him and he pressed into her. With one hand, he moved to release his dick. Part of his mind begged him to hold off, the other denied. Silken flesh tormented him. He thought he’d be able to handle the beast. But she slid against his fly and he threw caution to the wind.
She was as ready for him as he was for her.
When the zipper gave way, Jairo pulled his cock out. Its head brushed her warm flesh and she jerked. Her moan of pleasure shot through him and her fingers gripped his hair. With one thrust, he buried to his balls. She gasped and he groaned.
Intense sensation of her closing around him caused him to stop. He coul
dn’t move, not yet. He needed to regain some of his faculties before they fell over the edge without even moving.
“Please—”
Her soft moans in his ear sent him over the cliff. He pulled out and surged forward, lost in the torrent pulsing through him.
* * * *
The beeps picked up as his hearing adjusted to reality.
“What’s happening?” his sister’s voice came through, clearly concerned.
“Nothing to be worried about,” a strange woman replied, followed by softer beeps. “The machine just needs to be reset. It happens every twelve hours. Your brother is fine.”
Why couldn’t he open his eyes to let Jezzaray know he was all right?
“What about his brain activity?” He heard a faint click and papers rustled.
“The recordings show Jairo’s brain is functioning. That’s a good thing, other than that, I can’t say more.”
“And the doctor, can he give me more details?”
Metal on metal clanked lightly, a clipboard being attached to his bed?
“I will tell the doctor you wish to know about the results of the brain waves.” Heels clicked on the tiled floor. “Please do not be distressed, Miss Silverthorne. This is not the first case we’ve seen involving coma patients.”
Silence enveloped the room again, his sister sat at his bedside. He remembered her doing the same thing a few years back, when he was in rehab. He wanted to reassure Jezzaray, tell her he was okay.
The words remained locked behind the door of this semi-sleep state.
“Jay? Can you hear me?” She sighed. “Reach for her. You know where she is. Call out to her. Joy can hear you if you’d just swallow that damn male pride of yours and ask for help, you idiot.”
What can this “Joy” do when I don’t remember her? He thought as the curtain descended.
Chapter Four
Joy walked through an unknown corridor. She remembered crying and closing her eyes, but everything else was a blur.
She paused and cocked her head as images of a beating filled her mind. She suppressed a shiver and moved forward. Her memory fogged with hazy edges. Something whispered this had happened before. Pieces of the missing puzzle, but she recalled nothing.
Had her mind picked up where she left off when she woke up?
Her jaw ached and teeth felt loose. Falling asleep had been her escape from the agony of abuse. The new scene set before her was sterile white. No depth and contrast, absent of color and emotion. Like a hospital.
Where am I?
She took each stair step as if she knew where to go. She hadn’t visited this particular building before. So why did she sense she’d been there before and was safe?
A door opened and she walked through to a bedroom.
Shame filled her at the realization she let herself be beaten and he had witnessed everything. A soft click signaled being enclosed, but she wasn’t afraid. She glanced around until she located him near a darkened window. One hand on the frame, the other at his hip, Joy took a single step and stopped.
Why had he stayed away? The only time he’d been near was when she fought for her life.
He’d given her strength when she just wanted to lie down and die. He refused to let her go. Why?
She didn’t have his name so she couldn’t call to him. Instead she waited. He’d sense her soon enough. This man knew whenever she came near. His shoulders would tense and then relax. He’d tilt his head and like a wolf, lift his nose, as if catching the scent of prey.
Was he a predator?
“Why?” He did those actions and his voice shook.
“Why, what?” She walked closer and then stopped.
Fear flooded her. The terror of how she sensed him stabbed her heart. She voluntarily let herself be fooled before, another piece of memory slipped into place.
All her past choices had been to prove her mother right and herself wrong, to reinforce the logical and rational side of the world; that a person only had five senses and not more.
Could she be mistaken about him?
“I’d never hurt you.” His voice, laced with an accent she couldn’t place, answered the question in her mind. “You are my heart, my soul.”
She fought to keep the tremors at bay and when he turned to face her, she stepped back. The expression that crossed his features hurt, she didn’t back away, ever. It seemed like forever in the past.
Joy was a changed person now.
“Dammit, baby.” He shoved his fingers through his hair and clenched the strands before relaxing. He faced her and rolled his shoulders. “Why didn’t you listen?”
His cry sent a spear to her stomach and she realized he knew. He knew how she came to be abused. Her mind scrambled for a logical explanation as to how he had the knowledge of a decision she made within her mind and not aloud, but came up empty. Rationality did not exist concerning her actions.
“I…I…” She twisted her fingers together until a stone from her ring pierced her flesh. The slight pain was nothing compared to what rolled off him. What had been her reason? She lifted her chin. “I wanted to prove my mother right. I ignored what was true in my heart. She is the one in the wrong, not me. I’ve always known who I am. I wasn’t ever confused.”
Her mother’s convictions had Joy questioning everything she sensed and felt. Instead of trusting what was right for herself, she struck out to prove her mother was in the right. For as much as people want individuals who think for themselves and be original, the truth is they want mindless followers. The fact was her mother had been wrong. Joy needed to be herself and not a copy.
What was right for one person was not right for everyone.
Tears blurred her vision, but Joy refused to blink and release them from their prison. The healing that came with their liberation wouldn’t occur. If she started, she would never stop.
“Oh love,” he said.
She clenched her jaw, she wasn’t weak.
“You never had to prove yourself to anyone. Not even to your mother.”
The lump in her throat swelled, she didn’t want to cry. Not in front of him.
“I’ve always been inside you. I know you. I feel everything you do as if it’s my own.” His voice broke and he took the final steps to her. She glanced up and stared at the shimmer of tears in the corners of his eyes. “I am a part of you. We’re two halves of the same whole, one person.”
She blinked. Tears slid down her cheeks, and he touched the trails they left behind with a gentle fingertip. His throat worked and he wrapped her in his arms, she gladly went into them without fear. His comfort soothed the abrasions and bruises, easing her tense muscles. Joy pressed her ear to his beating heart.
He swung her up and carried her to the bed. Laying her down he spooned around her, holding her close and letting her cry. The words he murmured she didn’t understand. The softness of his tone calmed her. She sighed.
“Te amo. Siempre te amare. Tu eres mi vida, mi ser—” his voice drifted off and she relaxed.
That was all she wanted, protection and love from him.
* * * *
Relentless anger beat at him from witnessing her assault, it didn’t compare to the sensation of her wrapped close though. The comfort of her alive, breathing, always eased his tension.
It did not make the repeated assaults easier to handle.
Her reasons for doing what she had left Jairo speechless. She wasn’t suicidal. Yet, she willingly refused to fight the brute for her life. She gave him no choice but to fully connect with her and make her strive to live.
As her sobs quieted, he brushed the bleached blonde hair off her face and grimaced at the shading. He despised the shoulder length locks and the color.
She looked peaceful, serene. A dark purplish bruise accented her cheekbone and he moved the strands away from her neck. Rage enveloped him again at the blackened prints gracing her windpipe and jugular.
How many times can a person be strangled without suffering permanent dama
ge?
Jairo swallowed the growl, refusing to let his fury take control. Their only link to each other was in the realm between sleep and awake. Where they touched and lived, no more than a wishful dream on the part of their subconscious minds or souls. He closed his eyes and forced himself to relax, absorbing her into his frame through their mental corridor. His body ached as if he took the physical beating and been robbed of oxygen.
Sighing, he buried his nose in her hair. She had a way of taking his mind away from the job he performed. Jairo knew she didn’t do it on purpose. It did not stop him from wondering why they were like this to each other. How it happened, if an explanation could be found.
She shifted in her sleep, her ass brushed against his groin and he hardened. He clenched his jaw. She’d just been beaten and raped again. Intimacy was something she would not accept from him. He had been shocked she allowed him to hold her at all, let alone touch her.
The memory of her head bouncing off the wall and lolling to the side stole his breath, Jairo had seen her eyes roll back…but she didn’t fight. Then she dropped to the floor, no more than a disposed used towel. Her limp body laid there as she gasped for air, the picture sliced through his heart like a blade.
The moment Jairo whispered to her, he’d wanted to tear apart the man who violated her. But he wasn’t physically in the room. Which made him powerless to stop the events from unfolding, until he remembered she’d hear him if he spoke.
“Fight, baby, please fight for me.”
He didn’t have her name so he called her “baby,” his way of alleviating some of the trauma the asshole inflicted. That bastard never used her name and…Jairo couldn’t. The acid of it roiled in his stomach. To her boyfriend she was just a nameless female body to fuck, instead of a jewel to be loved and treasured above all else.
Her body shook and he tightened his arms, willing her to ease. He could only do so much in their dream state. If he had a way to find her, he would. But a starting point was missing. No name or address…nothing. All he had were drawings, sketches from his memory, nothing more.
Where did she live? Did she realize they were connected to each other like he did?
Twin Flames: Soul Memory Page 3