Quod Me Nutrit Me Destruit: That Which Destroys Me with The Alternate Ending (23 page)

Stella

I roll over looking at the clock on my nightstand. Holy shit! It’s past noon! After I jump from bed and land beneath the hot pelting water spraying from seventy five showerheads, it dawns on me that it’s Saturday. And I have nothing planned today, only my continuing efforts to pin the ghost of
Stell’s past down. Which is good, because I don’t have the energy to shave.

After my shower I dress in khakis shorts and a V-neck black t-shirt, make a cup of coffee, and head to my office.

I sit behind my desk and with fresh eyes begin reading over the files and my scribbling notes down on Blake and Jenny Sims, i.e. Foster fucks number one.

More than two hours go by and I have yet to find anything on Blake and Jenny Sims online that I don’t already have in my file. I glance up at the clock and see it’s almost three thirty.
Ehh… Scotch right now would be considered day drinking.

As I jot down Jeffery Pi
erce’s name when the hair on the back of my neck stands on end I quickly type the kid’s name, pulling up his information online and sink back into my chair reading the articles one by one.

Foreboding
crawls up my spine, causing me to sit up straighter with every article I read. This motherfucker was seriously a fucked up kid. . The information I am  reading online, in no way reflects the same kid in Derrick’s files.

Every muscle in my body is strung tight. My alarms are so high it causes me to jump when the phone on my desk rings.

“Shit!” I shake the tension off before answering the phone, “Wesley speaking.”

“Hey, what’s up man, it’s Jude.” I glance at the clock. Fuck it. It’s past five
o’clock, I abstained as much as I care to.

“What’s up, Jude?” My voice is as bland as the empty tumbler in my hand, at least until I fill it to the rim with Johnny Walker.

“Look, I don’t really know how to say this other than just coming out and saying it. I like Stella, a lot, more than I should. Until yesterday I honestly thought you were just her boss. A boss she had a crush on, but still just her boss. I don’t know what yesterday was all about, but honestly, I don’t feel comfortable with an intern being behind my writing career. Yesterday cleared my cock from the equation when I saw your reaction to us being together, now, I have absolutely no problem conceding, you’re obviously the better man suited for Stella. However, I can’t— I refuse to settle for Stella parading around acting as my publisher Wes, I want you, man. You’re the reason I came to Jacobs, I’m sorry my cock lead me astray momentarily, but fortunately,” He chuckles, “My rational thought has returned.”

I sit silently as his words roll around until they settle. “What exactly do you want from me, Jude?
Stella may be ‘parading’ around as your publisher, but she’s still getting her work done, the proof sits directly on top of your award for being a NY best seller. What is there left for me to do?”

“I know she did. She rocked ‘Twisted’; but what I have in the works for my next project, man, it’s going to kill, totally annihilate ‘Twisted Obsession’. Hey! You got plans tonight?” I look at all my written notes scattered around my desk, drain my scotch and head to the corner bar to make another.

“Not really, just some personal shit I’m working on. Why?” I walk back to my desk eyeing one empty bottle while opening a new one and pouring my second drink.

“What time is it? Oh, almost six. Okay, meet me at Molly’s, the pub on 3rd Ave near 22nd Street. I’ll bring my manuscript’s outline, let’s say…nine-ish? Is that cool?”

I sip my scotch while looking at the clock. That gives me at least two more hours to research this little fucker, Jeffery Pierce. Scrubbing my hand down my face sighing, I say, “Sure. Nine it is. But I’m not staying long, I’m stuck up to my asshole in personal shit that I need to get figured out. Understood?”

“Absolutely, man. Alright, I’ll see ya then.” The phone clicks dead.

I return to my research and my scotch.

I hate this encompassing premonition that something in Stella’s past - in these files - is, has, or will damage what’s left of my little angel that fights. But what I hate more is that I’ve allowed it to constantly come between us.

But fucking hell, if she ever knew, I’d lose her. For-fucking-ever. I would lose my angel. And I will never allow that.

So until I find whatever it is provoking me to search, or until I’ve exhausted every fucking lead, name and avenue, I will continue to keep myself from the only woman I have ever truly, fiercely, and unconditionally loved. 

“This is good, man,” I tell my driver as the car slows and I spot Molly’s. “I shouldn’t be more than an hour, two tops. Go grab a bite to eat.” I step from the car and head into the pub.

Once I spot Jude, I nod and head in his direction at a small table all the way at the back of the bar and away from the crowd. “What the fuck you hiding by the backdoor for, Jude?” I ask sinking into the leather seat.

He looks at me like I’ve lost my mind before sliding a drink in front of me. “Johnny Walker, right?”

I nod accepting the drink. “Thanks, man.”

“Yep, anytime.” After taking a swig from his beer, he says, “Why the fuck am I strategically sitting away from everyone? Really?” He slides a piece of paper across the gnarled tabletop, “Umm… Because I don’t think the other patrons would understand or be able to stomach the shit we’re about to discuss. Holding women captive as slaves, rape, sodomy and flaying their skin from their bones is generally frowned upon, buddy.”

I glance down at his outline, scanning over it before nodding and look back up at him. Keeping my eyes locked on his, I chug my drink and set it back on the table. “This shit’s good.” I say looking back down to read it more carefully.

“Fuck. That shit’s better than good, and you goddamn well know it. I need another beer, you alright?” He asks standing.

Without taking my eyes off the outline, I raise my glass. “Here, tell the bartender to start me a tab.”

“It’s alright, man. I got it.”

Son. Of. A. Bitch! This is going to give CJ Roberts a fucking run for her money! The dual POV of the contrasting characters. Wow. What the fuck? This man is a goddamn genius! With the mind of a motherfucker straight from an asylum! SHIT! I want—no, I need to read ‘Twisted Obsession’. I had no idea the kid had it in him.

“Here you go, man.” He slides the drink to me. When I look up, the room tilts for a second before instantly righting itself.

Shit, I haven’t eaten anything today. I grab my scotch and chug it back before telling Jude,  “Honestly, when I handed your manuscript to
Stell, I only fucking did it because yours was at the top of the stack, man. However, you and I both know that woman knows her goddamn shit. I haven’t read ‘Twisted’, but I can say that her un-jaded enthusiasm over your work was - in the long run - a gift. To you and your first published work.” He smiles setting another Johnny Walker in front of me like a damn magician. “Thanks. Now,” I go to tap the paper with my pointer finger landing a solid foot away from it. “This shit? I’m all yours, kid.” I smirk before sipping my drink.

Jesus. Fucking. Christ.

My fingers sink into my angels hair, fist and haul her up onto her knees as I continue to pummel her tight little asshole with my cock. “Whose ass is this, Ms. Reese?” I growl around my fat tongue.

“Yours, it’s yours, daddy.” I shove her face back into the mattress, trying to
fucking shut Rachel’s grating voice out of my mind before pulling out and ramming my cock into her pussy.

“I’m not your fucking daddy.
Utterstood?” Fuck! What’s wrong with me? And what the fuck?! Stell’s pussy feels like it’s been hammered by a tree stump.

My vision blurs before everything goes black. But not before I fall on top of my angel and pull her body over mine, whispering, “I fucking love you, Stella Jolie Reese. Goddamn it I love you so much.”

Then I pass the fuck out.

The sound of Stella screaming, “
OF EVERY FUCKING MAN TO EVER FUCKING DESTROY ME, YOU’RE THE ONE I WON’T LIVE THROUGH! YOU FUCKING KNEW ALL ALONG YOU MOTHERFUCKER!”
Has me instantly bolting up in bed.

When I see my angel that fights
face looking back at me in utter devastation, I lose any and all control I’ve ever held. As Stella runs from my room, the reins of rule slip from my fingertips, running away with her.  

“Seriously, Wesley? You gave her a fucking key to your apartment?” Rachel’s voice snakes into my ears before her arms slither around my neck.

Why?

Oh! Well, Hello.

I’m so delighted to finally be significant enough to attract your attention. I know, the mind does boggle a bit sometimes, does it not? Especially when you’re being mercilessly dragged through Beauty’s sad and pitiful excuse of a life.

Now, where shall I begin? Oh, yes! Imagine my surprise when my little Sarah - sweet girl, who, however, possessed not a morsel of common sense - called to inform me that a Mr. Wesley Jacobs was willing to set up a meeting…with his intern.

This turn of events lead me and my demons on a sick mind-fuck consisting of hills of vengeance and valleys of retribution, until I learned with whom the meeting with Jacobs Publishing would include.

I had full intentions of walking into that building and telling Stella Reese, while my fingers curled and tightened around her throat, that
she
was my twisted obsession, that
she
, Stella Reese, was Renee, and that
I,
Jude, was John.

Instead, while standing in the elevator waiting for the doors to close a slip of a woman hurried inside.
My hand shot out and hit the button for level three - even though I’d already hit the button for the top floor - when my Beauty turned, smiling up at me, with her eyes of every color before saying in awe, “If they ask, we’ll say, ‘Destino’.” Beauty’s laugh reverberated through the closed space.

When the doors to the third floor opened, I flew from the compacted confines. I ran, as fast as I could, I ran from the woman that
was both my Lord and savior, as well as Satan herself.

Once I collected my wits, I called Sarah. “Look, I know babe, I haven’t talked to them. But it’s my family, my fucked up family. Just fill in for me at the meeting, if they have any questions, give them my number. I can do a quick conference call.”

That night, having pushed myself to the brink, with orchestrated lie after orchestrated lie, I wrapped my knuckles, one in Rachel’s hair, and the other shoving, fisting into her cunt. After I’d used and stretched every hole she possessed, I stalked from her apartment, praying she’d freak the fuck out when she awoke and tip the chair I’d barely left under her right foot, causing her to land on nothing but the strings around her neck… Before snapping it in two.

To say I’ve been waiting for this night is an incredible understatement.

Just like the first time I masterminded Beauty’s downfall, I placed a note I knew would spur her into immediate action.

What can I say? I know my Beauty.

The next morning, merely a handful of hours after struggling to toss Wesley’s drunken and drugged ass into bed, I sit outside Stella’s apartment… Watching.

When I see her step out of her building, she steals my breath away for a moment. I would’ve let our decades of struggles fly out the window.
Except she made the wrong decision. Over and over, she constantly made the wrong decision. And now, she will regretfully, pay…Again.

I follow her to Wes’ in a cab behind hers. After I pay my fare, I walk around the corner and unlock the black van I parked here the night before. I
double check all my items for the hundredth time. Chloroform snap capsule. Rope. Duct tape. Cable Ties. Thin dish rag. Annie Lennox ‘Why’. Knife. Smith & Wesson M&P 9 mm. Let’s hope she behaves so I won’t have to use the last two too soon.

Thirty minutes later I’m standing in front of Wesley’s building with a cup of coffee in each hand.

Thirty seconds after that my Beauty comes descending down the stairs with tears streaming down her face.

She is the goddamn epitome of perfection.

Before her foot steps from the last stair, I toss the coffee into the trash bin I was standing near and my arms are wrapped around her, “Hey, hey… Shh, its okay, its going to be okay.”

“Jude! Oh my God, Jude, what…” Her arms slip around my neck
and immediately the demons slamming against my rib cage begin screaming at me to hold and protect her. To love her.

Her head is shaking back and forth, her frame convulsing violently. My fingers run down her hair, my lungs inhale her for as long as I can. As long as she doesn’t speak, I’ll allow myself - my demons - to gently love her. “
Shh…it’s okay, babe, I’m here.”

She tightens her arms around my neck before stepping back. “What are you doing here? I-I—“ Her head starts shaking again trying to clear her thoughts, possibly. I really wish she
would have kept her mouth shut just a little while longer.

My feet begin moving backward, toward the corner of the building, and with one arm around her waist, I reach the other behind my back, pull the thin
dish rag from my pocket. Before turning to walk beside her, I replace the arm circling her waist with the one holding the dish rag - and lead my Beauty to her demise.

“I’m here for an assortment of reasons, an assortment of conflicting reasons.” As we round the corner, I slide my arm from her waist to the top of
her shoulder, hugging her to me while snapping the capsule and soaking the rag, all while unlocking the van with the key fob in the other hand. “The main reason however…” I move the arm hugging her to me slightly up before clamping my hand over her mouth, effectively covering her face from nose to chin with the chloroform soaked rag. “…Is your unique ability to consistently make the wrong choices.
WHY DO YOU ALWAYS HAVE TO MAKE IT SO MUCH HARDER?
!” I slam her fighting body against the brick building.

“Do you have any inkling how extraordinary it was to lay beneath your bed listening to your screams and watching the mattress bow while old man Sims ravaged your little nine year old body? Knowing I was the one behind your desecration?
Mmmmm…there has never been such sweeter bliss, my Beauty veiled in grotesqueness.” Her struggles seem to have weakened during my declaration, but when I loosen my arms to open the backdoor of the van, they recover ten-fold. Her head connects, cracking against my chin.

My hand clamps down harder shoving the soaked rag against her mouth. In less than three seconds, her last surge of adrenaline submits to defeat and, at last, unconsciousness succeeds. After I lay her in the van, I grab the knife and gun and tuck them into my coat pocket. I zip three cable ties each around her wrists and ankles, then zip three more around those, binding her feet and ha
nds behind her back. I wrap duct tape, circling her entire head, covering her mouth before anchoring her to the van with the rope.

I push the cd into the
cd player and as ‘Why’ spills into the van, I pull the gearshift to drive, saying, “This is vengeance, Beauty, in its purest, simplest form. Only this time… You won’t make it out alive.”

How many times do I have to try to tell you

That I'm sorry for the things I've done
…

But when I start to try to tell you

That's when you have to tell me

Hey... this kind of trouble's only just begun
…