We are US... (I am HER... Book 3) Page 15

  As if I could rape or hurt my Suzanne. Just the thought of ever physically hurting her makes me nearly violent. No one will ever hurt her physically again, least of all me.

  But reasoning why I broke 2 of my 3 promises to her doesn't seem to change how badly I feel for doing it tonight. I broke my promises to her and I can only hope when she's rational again she understands why I did it. God, I need her to understand why I did everything I did to her tonight.

  Walking to the minibar, I feel the sudden urge to be a drunken idiot. I know no one can see me lose control, and I have no meetings tomorrow, so I don't give a fuck how hungover I get. I need to drink this shit away. I need to numb myself a little from Suzanne and her desperation because she's making me desperate too.

  Snapping the cap of the little bottle of Vodka, I grab the other 4 and settle in. Lining them up perfectly on the table, I gulp the first and realize quite quickly these 5 little bottles are going to do shit for my current mood.

  What I need is to call Jon in shipping and have him send over a case of Z's finest, as Suzanne calls it, so I can get shitfaced tonight.

  Waking 2 hours later, I'm still sober but feeling a little better. These last 2 weeks with Suzanne have been exhausting, not just physically, but mentally as well.

  Knowing your wife was heading to her desperate scary place is beyond anything I think most people, especially a man could handle. But honestly, I thought I could.

  I'm strong, and tough, and I'm Z. I'm a fixer and a doer, and I'm pretty amazing at controlling life and the people and events within it. But with Suzanne I always feel out of control. She makes me question every single decision I make, and she makes me fear everything I do. She makes me feel insecure in life, which truthfully, pisses me right off.

  I mean, fuck off already. Get your shit together. Love the man who loves you. And get on with the life you have together.

  But she never does. She tries, and I try, and we manage to get through for the most part. And then her shit resurfaces, and she changes back to fucked up Suzanne, and I can't stop it or control it. I can do nothing.

  Fuck… I hate this shit all the time.

  Storming into the bathroom I start the shower and try to exhale all my anger. I have to keep telling myself this isn't her fault, but yeah, I'm fucking pissed, too. Kayla’s not the only one.

  I want Suzanne to wake the fuck up and realize what she does have now so she stops all the shit all the time. I want her to pull her head out of her ass and get with the program- my program.

  Suddenly laughing, I realize what an arrogant controlling dick I sound like. I remember when Suzanne once said to me, 'Dominant, much?' I laughed at the time before kissing the shit out of her. But she was right, and I knew it. I just didn't realize how right she was.

  I am a dominant confident bastard, and the fact that I can't control her, or how she feels, or reacts, or even how she lives and views life pisses me off.

  I'm patient and understanding, and really I just love her enough to deal with anything. But I'm pissed. I have never given her a reason to doubt me, or to fear me, but here we are again. Right back where we started.

  I love a fucked up woman. And the fucked up woman can't see the love in front of her beyond the darkness suffocating her.

  Because I'm not enough.

  Stepping in the shower, there's nothing I can do right now, but wait. I have to wait for her, or for Phillips, or for Mack to tell me the next step. I have to wait, and the controlling bastard inside me hates the wait almost as much as the pain of knowing I'm not enough for Suzanne.

  I'm not enough to keep her alive. And my love wasn't enough to make her live.

  She didn't ask me for help, and she didn't want to hurt me. But that's been my life with Suzanne. One unintentional hurt after another.

  Stepping back out of the shower as I look in the mirror I can see why I’m attractive to women. I'm also successful and wealthy which definitely helps. I know why I'm wanted by women, but I don’t give a shit. I never have.

  Christ, annoyingly, women still throw themselves at me, even though they know I'm married and I love with my wife. Woman want me for a good fuck, or to love them, and just even as a status symbol around town. But I'm not stupid. I know exactly what I am to the opposite sex. I've always known it, and I used to have fun with it.

  I was a lover to many who loved very few. I was a man who knew exactly who he was and what he wanted, which was no one indefinitely, until Suzanne.

  But I couldn't keep her from wanting to die, even with all my love and with my entire life given to her.

  Because I am not enough.

  CHAPTER 11

  Suzanne

  Sitting back in his bland office again, I feel totally irritated and annoyed by everything all around me. For 3 goddamn days I've been medicated and talked to by Phillips and all the other staff endlessly. I've also done everything they ask me to do whether I want to or not so I'm compliant enough to get the hell out of here tonight.

  "Suzanne, your husband left you, yes. But you were going to commit suicide."

  "So?!" I yell angrily. I'm so tired of that excuse from him.

  "So... You were going to leave him forever, and you told him he wasn't enough to keep you alive anymore, and you hurt him beyond anything he's ever experienced before I think. Therefore, he left you because he loved you too much to stay and watch while you attempted to kill yourself. Does that make sense?"

  Huffing, I argue again, "Not really."

  "Okay. Would you sit there and watch Z kill himself when he told you he loved you, but didn’t love you enough to keep living with you?"

  "Z would never do that," I answer again.

  "Just imagine he did for a minute," Phillips pushes.

  "But he would never do that, so I can't even imagine it. I was never enough for Z, and no one has ever loved me that much."

  "You don't think Z did?"

  "No," I whisper again now that the quick anger has faded.

  "Okay. Just for argument’s sake, pretend Z told you he loved you but he was going to kill himself anyway, even after you begged and pleaded and loved him and did everything you could for him. Would you stay and watch him die? Or would you leave him because the thought of Z's death was too painful to you?"

  Staring at Phillips I think he truly underestimates my intelligence. Like most people he thinks I'm an idiot who will think whatever they want me to think. But I’m not, and I don't.

  "Of course I wouldn't stay and watch. But your hypothetical is so illogical and ridiculous, it would never happen. Z is amazing, and he would never do anything like that. So though you want me to imagine it, it's impossible to imagine. Z has too much going on around him, and too much going for him. He has too many friends and responsibilities and too big a life to ever feel like killing himself. So again, your ridiculous scenario is unimaginable. And a fairly useless comparison if you ask me." There! See, Suzanne isn't such an idiot.

  "Suzanne, why are you mad at Z?"

  "Because he left me."

  "After you told him you wanted to leave him forever?"

  "Yes," I huff for the fiftieth time. Jesus Christ, Dr. Phillips is such an idiot. I guess we're both surprising each other tonight.

  "Suzanne? Why are you so mad at Z?"

  Looking up at Phillips' face, I would love to smack him. His beady little eyes are waiting for me to answer the same goddamn question I've answered fifty one times now, and I'm done with this game tonight. My answer isn't going to change, no matter how many times he asks, or how many examples he gives. My answer will NOT change. Z is a liar, and he left me.

  After all the promises and all the bullshit he fed me for the years we've known each other, he lied about his feelings for me, and he left me anyway. He also committed me which he promised never to do to me. The bastard.

  "Are we done yet? I only have a few hours left of this forced confinement which is something else Z said he would never do. But here I am," I seethe at Phillips.

&
nbsp; "We're done whenever you want to be done, Suzanne," he says in his annoyingly calm voice.

  "Good. Then we're done. Thank you very much Dr. Phillips," I say politely as usual. Wow. You can take the Beaumont out of the Suzanne, but you can't smack the disgustingly polite out of her head.

  When I stand to leave the room we're using, Dr. Phillips clears his throat which is another annoying way he either attempts to get my attention or tries to snap me out of my head.

  Turning back with a fake smile plastered on my face, I ask sweetly, "Yes?"

  "Suzanne, I'm not going to sign off on your hold being lifted this evening." What?

  Smiling my best Suzanne smile I stay as calm as possible for this round of are you FUCKING kidding me? "And why is that, Dr. Phillips?" I ask sitting gently back in my chair with my hands folded in my lap and my back straight.

  "Because you aren't ready," he says simply. Not even pretending, he just speaks which leaves me little to fight.

  "Actually, I am ready."

  "Suzanne, not 3 days ago you wrote suicide notes saying goodbye to everyone you love."

  "And hate," I add with a poorly timed giggle.

  "Yes, and hate. You haven't discussed anything about what you had planned, and what you were going to do. Or even what led up to your decision to kill yourself."

  "Because I'm over it," I jump in quickly.

  "Yes, of course. You said goodbye to the admitted love of your life, and you set up a situation to cause yourself if not death, immediate harm until you were found."

  "But I didn't do it, so it doesn't count."

  Shaking his head slightly, Phillips argues again like an asshole. "Actually, that's all that counts. You didn't do it because Z found you before you could hurt yourself. Not because you changed your mind and sought help."

  "I was going to change my mind, and I was going to call you for help."

  "But you didn't. Z did."

  "I would have," I exhale slowly. This lying thing never gets any easier, even though I'm kind of a pro at it now.

  "But again, you didn't. Someone else prevented your suicide. Your husband."

  "Soon to be ex-husband," I growl.

  "Really? So you’re divorcing Z, then?"

  "Yes," I admit then choke up.

  Completely out of my control, like a physical reaction that wasn't even mine, my entire body just revolted against my words. I’m having an internal revolt. My organs, and heart, and even tear ducks revolted against the words divorce and Z in the same goddamn sentence.

  But it is what it is.

  Z left me and now we have to divorce. Period. I can't be married to a liar. And I won't be married to someone who doesn't want me. He left me and he committed me. He never loved me like he said he did every single time he lied to me and said he loved me.

  "Why are you crying, Suzanne?" Phillips asks in his gross, slightly whiny voice, and after the initial repulsion at his voice I think of Mack.

  My Mack wouldn't have asked such a stupid question. He would've explained why I was suddenly crying, what I could do to fix it, and what would help me. Mack would've helped me see another side to my feelings without belittling me or making me feel like my reactions were crazy and unjust. Mack would help me get out of this. But Mack’s not here.

  I know he's on his much deserved honeymoon, and I would never take that away from them. I even made everyone promise not to tell him what's going on while he and Kayla are away. But I need him badly right now because I know Mack would fix this for me.

  Wiping away my tears without smearing my makeup- my psychiatric approved makeup, unlike even the tweezers that were taken from me in case I potentially plucked myself to death, I sit up straighter and look at Phillips as best as I can without the loathing I actually feel for him suddenly.

  "I would like to be released this evening," I say simply.

  Looking down at his papers than back to me he replies, "And I already told you I wouldn't sign off on your release tonight. I don't believe you're ready, and we haven't addressed any of the issues that prompted you to feel suicidal or to bring you here in the first place."

  "Yes, we did. Z brought me to this place. Well, you physically brought me here, but with his permission." Wow, that one was hard. I almost scowled again at the thought of Z's betrayal.

  "I mean emotionally, Suzanne. We haven't discussed why you felt suicidal or why you were going to kill yourself Tuesday evening."

  "There's nothing to discuss," I huff for the hundredth time. "I was sad and now I'm fine. I'm all better now. I feel like I should, and I'm much better with all your help," I smile my bullshit compliment smile to flatter him. "If not for you these last few days, I wouldn't feel as strong as I do now and I wouldn't be ready to leave. But I'm much better, and I'm ready to leave now because of you," I smile again hoping to convince him with flattery.

  "Okay, Suzanne. Unless you’d like to call Z to discuss lifting the temporary hold, we're through here. I'll set up another appointment tomorrow afternoon with you."

  Looking at this weaselly piece of shit, I just barely hold in my rage. He thinks I'm so fucking stupid. Just like they did. Stupid, fat, little Suzanne, who always did as she was told, but it didn't matter. She was a useless fucking toy anyway. Actually, she was just a fucktoy, I suddenly laugh.

  Oh my god, I never put that together before. I was a fucking toy, and a fucktoy. Laughing my ass off suddenly, I wish I was with anyone but this idiot so I could tell my stupid joke. Mack would get that one for sure.

  Trying to fight off the laughter, I rise and turn for the door again. But this time I'm leaving. Screw him and his hold. I'll contact Glenn in Chicago, or the papers, or, or Mack. They can't do this to me, and I won't let them.

  Stupid friggin’ New York State and their forced 72 hour holds. Only half the States in the US even allow this but here I am. In the wrong goddamn state again.

  "Suzanne, you could always call Z to lift the hold," Phillips says just as I'm opening the door.

  Nearly ripping the door off its hinges to get out I scream, "Fuck him. And fuck YOU!" And the relief I feel is immediate.

  Walking 5 doors down to my white, plain little room, or cell is more accurate, I close my own door before the orderly can physically check that I have nothing hidden on my body. Exhaling all my anger I find I'm barely breathing as the orderly throws open my door anyway before I can even sit on my bed.

  Looking at his angry face, I feel the fear immediately. Shaking in an instant I know what this means for me. I know this room, and I know what gets done to me in psychiatric hospital rooms. I know it because I remember it all.

  Oh god... Not this again.

  "Please don't touch me," I beg shaking as he stares at me.

  It's coming, I can feel it. The darkness and the fear and all the hands on me, and the disgusting slurping sounds and moans and all the ugliness I can't fight. It's coming for me as he approaches me slowly.

  "DR. PHILLIPS!!" I scream as the man enters my room all the way to get me.

  No. No. No!

  Fighting, I attack first. He's not doing this to me again. Simmons isn’t touching me and fondling me, and fucking with me. He's not licking me until he gets off. And he's not fingering me hoping he makes me get off.

  Never again.

  Screaming bloody murder I fight with absolutely everything I have in me as the rage and fear consumes me. I will never again be easy, and they can't make me comply.

  I am not little Suzanne anymore, and Z told me no one would ever hurt me again. Z promised me I was safe. Z said no one but him would ever touch me like this. But once again he lied to me.

  Crying as I fight, the pain all over my body is so awful, my lungs huff and struggle for breath through the pain. My arm is killing me and my stomach feels like I've been kicked repeatedly. My face is sore, and my eyes are pouring pain tears, but I'm still fighting them. I'm going to fight this time until I just can't fight any more.

  And then I just can't fight anymore.
>
  Crying out my final frustration, I close my eyes and wait for them to start.

  Staring at all the white, my face is pushed so hard into the tiles I can't even blink. They are touching me and fighting me, and they’re going to fuck me again. They’re doing whatever they want to me again because I can't fight them anymore. I am HER, and I will always be this woman to them. And that's why I want to give up living.

  "I want to die," I wail through the side of my face as the darkness takes me completely. "Z? Help me..." I hear my own voice for the last time.

  Beyond the screams and swearing, I begged him to save me again, but he never does. Z can't save me this time because he never could.

  CHAPTER 12

  Z

  Jerking off, I'm half asleep, but I know exactly what I'm doing. I can feel it. I can feel her holding me in her little hands as I semi-sleep.

  Picturing her sweet mouth on my cock as she holds my thighs tentatively is hot as fuck. I've always loved it when she went down on me- not that it happens often. Suzanne has to be feeling secure with me and in the right frame of mind to do it. But when she does go down on me, it's the sexiest fucking thing ever.

  I love looking down at her as she sucks me hard. Her eyes which always look up at me like she's nervous or unsure of herself and her abilities turn me the fuck on.

  Her gorgeous blue eyes that are so stunning to watch, watch my own reaction as she sucks me deep into her throat. And I love it. Knowing she has only ever trusted me enough to do this with by choice makes my head spin. Well, that and the fact that my mind is being sucked out of my dick makes my head spin.

  But when she looks up at me, I know she needs confirmation that she's doing okay. I know when her eyes are open looking at me, she’s silently pleading with me to tell her she’s good. So I smile down at her, and when she hears my little groans of pleasure, she always smiles around me. I can actually feel her smile around my cock and then she just let’s go as she pleasures me like she actually wants to, as opposed to doing it because she thinks she has to for some reason I've never understood.