That Which Destroys Me (29 page)

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 it 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.

Chapter 36

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 racking 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, snapping the capsule, soaking the rag and with my other hand unlocking the van with the key fob. “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 hands 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…

Chapter 37

That Which Destroys Me

Blood. Blood is everywhere. Soaking my hands, knees. It’s everywhere. I’m scared. I’m cold. There are no lights on. It’s dark, but I can still see his form silhouetted by the sliver of moon just outside the dirty trailer’s window. It’s cold. The blood is seeping into my sweatpants. It’s everywhere. So are the screams. They are everywhere too. I cover my ears to stop them. But the blood on my hands smears on the sides of my head. When I feel the blood run down my face and neck, my vision blurs from my tears. Why am I crying? I don’t like this man. I hate him. I can’t remember a time where I didn’t hate him. All he does is hurt me. It’s all he has ever done, for as long as I can remember.