Insufferable: A Dark Erotic Romance (8 page)

Would
I
die?

Chapter 11

Jaime

I promised myself that I wouldn’t respond to her. That I wouldn’t react, be tempted, or swayed. First fucking day and I already had pinned her and was ready to take her in the shower. Me! It wasn’t who I was. Lydia deserved better than that. She deserved someone to help her. To heal the pain she carried inside. Not some scumbag who couldn’t keep his actions under control.

I knew she liked pain and I had used it to work her up by spanking her ass and pulling her hair. God, this wasn’t right. I wasn’t right. But wasn’t that who I was—a fucking sadist? A lover of inflicting pain?

How many times had I broken slaves down and rebuilt them? So many. And I had loved every minute of it. So why was guilt making it impossible for me to enjoy any of Lydia’s pain?

Why?

Because I had suddenly grown one hell of a conscience. She was different. I cared for her. Horseshit. I fucking loved her. I loved a suicidal stranger that I hardly spent any real time with. Spying and following her around wasn’t supposed to count, but in my case it did.

“Eat.”

The rage from the internal battle projected in my voice. Lydia’s eyes shot up to mine, only to fall back to her nearly untouched omelet.

“What’s wrong? You don’t like it?”

Again, she glanced up. “I don’t eat eggs. They make me sick. Can I just have a bowl of cereal?”

“You don’t eat eggs? Why didn’t you say something when you were watching me make it?”

“Well, at first I thought you were just making it for yourself. But then you handed me the plate and I didn’t want to be rude. You took your time to make me breakfast.”

Took my time. Didn’t want to be rude.

“You’re too nice. I bet you let everyone walk all over you.”

“What?”

“You do, don’t you? What is it that has you not standing up for yourself? That has you willing to starve rather than to speak up?”

Lydia’s chair scraped against the floor as she slowly stood. “Do not for one minute think you have me pinned for some push-over. I can tell you stories all day long, but you will never know the soul you bark orders to. You will never understand who I am. Maybe the reason I didn’t speak up was because I wasn’t hungry. Maybe the reason I didn’t tell you I wanted something else was because I have an eating disorder. Perhaps,” she said, raising her voice, “the reason I didn’t demand a bowl of fucking cereal is because it’s not floating in vodka.”

“You’re testing me. You gave me your real reason, along with two others that aren’t true about you. One, I know you don’t drink so the last is wrong. And two, you have no problems eating. No eating disorder. I’ve followed you to restaurants plenty of times. You never went to the restroom afterward and sometimes you even stopped at the park and stayed there for hours. That one is a lie. So what it comes down to is you’re not hungry. Too bad. Get your ass in there and make yourself a bowl of cereal. You’ll eat every meal, and you’ll eat until you’re full. Unless it makes you sick, like eggs supposedly do. Other than that, you will eat what I feed you. I don’t care if you like it or don’t. This isn’t a vacation. This is a test, and so far, you’re failing. If you think the only options are you leaving here or dying, you have another thing coming.”

“What does that mean? What are you talking about?”

I took another bite, ignoring Lydia as she stood there waiting for me to respond. A good minute passed before I finally met her eyes.

“Go make your food. If I have to tell you again, I’m going to bend you over this table.”

“You think that scares me? A few spankings?”

“No. I think you like those. I wasn’t referring to whipping your ass. I’d much prefer to be pounding something else.”

Lydia’s eyes widened, only to narrow. “You’re bluffing.”

My chair rocked backwards, falling over behind me, but I was already moving around the table. She may have been right, but she wasn’t anymore. If there was one thing I did, it was to make good on my threats.

“Why are you running?” I cut around the corner, watching Lydia rush to the end of the long table. “I thought I was bluffing? What’s the matter? You too afraid to find out?”

“Stop it.”

“Stop what? Stop showing you that I mean what I say?”

“Fine! I get it. I’ll eat.”

I made it to the end, even with Lydia on the other side. She was starting to ease back toward the kitchen door. Her hands were raised in surrender, but I saw the spark in her eyes. She was afraid, but she didn’t want me to stop.

I didn’t want to stop.

“You think you can so easily pull back when you get in over your head? Doesn’t work like that, slave. You’ll eat, and then you’ll face the consequences for your behavior.”

“You?”

I shook my head. “You’d like it too much. I’m not going to reward you for the way you acted.”

“Reward?”

The sarcasm had my temper spiking. She was goading me, and fuck if I didn’t want to take the bait. I would swallow her whole. She had no idea what she was doing. I may have fantasized about wanting her, but I wasn’t naïve enough to know that if the time ever came I couldn’t just fuck her. That’s not what made me tick. It’s not what I wanted between us.

“Eat!”

“Fine. Jesus.”

The last was a growl, barely loud enough for me to hear. She turned, pulling the door open and disappearing behind it. I didn’t hesitate to follow and yank it open.

“No closed doors for the kitchen.”

I crossed my arms over my chest, leaning against the door frame as she threw me a look and grabbed a bowl. Where I thought she’d throw a jab, Lydia stayed quiet until she crept passed me and headed back for her seat at the table. The moment I sat down, she cleared her throat.

“What did you mean before? That there were other options?”

“Does it matter? Are you having second thoughts about what you want? What is it that you want? Do you even know anymore?”

I grabbed my fork, continuing to eat, just as she did.

“I’ve been thinking about that since you brought me here. Going over my past … I remember now why I wanted to do it. My mind isn’t right. I can’t keep going through this.”

“That’s not an answer. I want you to say what you want.”

The spoon clinked against the bowl and she sat up straighter. “You know, you make it impossible to eat.”

“Just say it. Avoiding the truth makes me think you don’t want to kill yourself at all. It’s not like you have to hide it from me. I’ve been where you are. I chose life in the end. There’s nothing wrong with choosing either one. As long as you’re certain.”

“There’s only one thing I know for fact. I can’t control the urges, or how deep I fall into my depression. I always end up in the same place.”

I held in the frown, taking a drink of my coffee. “I know how you feel about medication, but have you ever considered taking something?”

Lydia gave a fast shake to her head. “Not interested.”

“What if you didn’t have a choice?”

She stopped mid-chew, swallowing hard as she held my stare.

“You would force drugs on me after everything I told you?”

“What if you’re wrong? What if the withdrawals don’t increase but actually decrease and you wanted to live again? Would you take them, then?”

A few seconds went by before she pushed back the chair. “Not interested.”

“We’re not finished talking. Sit down.”

“I’m not standing.”

“
Slave
.”

The threat was clear in my tone and from the way Lydia’s eyes lowered to her bowl, she knew she was pushing me further than she wanted. I’d never been so quick tempered, but her backing off didn’t sit right with me. I wanted her to get better, but I knew it wasn’t going to be easy. Hell, it might be impossible for her without some sort of medical help.

Silence stretched out as she moved back in and finished her cereal. My damn appetite was gone and I only managed another few bites before I pushed the plate away. Today was not going to be easy. Not for either of us.

Chapter 12

Lydia

“What sort of movie?”

I took a seat on the bottom of the bed, staring ahead at the mounted flat screen in front of me. Jaime wasn’t speaking much and it was stirring my suspicions. Something wasn’t right. This movie he said I had to watch, I didn’t think it was a typical movie. Not with the way he was watching my every move. There was something wrong, something not quite right in his eyes as he studied my face.

“This is lesson one. If you want to kill yourself, you will know what you’re responsible for. Once you die, your body doesn’t mysteriously disappear as you do. There’s an aftermath. A process that has to take place.”

“Wait.” I swallowed hard, jerking my eyes back and forth from the television to Jaime. Before I could say more, a small room appeared on the screen. The white tile ahead became clear and the lens drew back, giving way to what first started out as dots of blood, to full on blood spatter. Horrified, I was locked in place as the camera panned down to reveal a woman lying nude at the bottom of a bathtub.

The victim appears to have died from a single gunshot wound to the head. From the spray and angle of the victim’s body, it would seem as though she was kneeling when she pulled the trigger, causing her body to fall forward toward the drain.

“Turn it off.”

My voice was but a whisper as the camera zoomed closer, giving view to the exposed meat and flesh mangled with her once light colored hair.

“You have to watch if you want to continue down this road. Someone has to clean up the mess when you decide to kill yourself.”

“And who will that be if I do it here? You?”

Jaime’s brow furrowed and he turned his attention to the TV. They were still showing the girl. Her face was covered by her hair. Hair that used to be almost the same color as mine before I dyed it. That could have been me.
Could be?

Silence had me cautiously stepping closer.

“What happens to me if I do this? What will my family be told?”

“Family?”

“Yes. I have a brother. He’s still pretty young.”

Jaime frowned. “That’s right. From your father’s other marriage.”

All I could do was nod. “I don’t really know him, but we met once. I’m sure the news will get back to him. What will he be told? What will the cops think with me killing myself here?”

“I lied before. You won’t actually kill yourself here. I’ll take you to a motel the night of. Your method of suicide will be your choice. I will stay until I know you’re dead and then I will call the front desk. From there, they will call the police. I will be long gone by the time they arrive. But concerning your brother. If you would like for me to get ahold of him and deliver the news, I will do that for you.”

The answers were there, but the emotion behind them wasn’t. Jaime’s words were slightly monotone, and he still wasn’t looking at me. And was that anger buried in his voice? I couldn’t tell. My sight was trapped back on the television. On the older man who was sitting in his recliner with cuts so deep and long that his flesh was beginning to peel back. And bugs. There were so many flying bugs. I could hear them almost buzzing in my ears as the audio seemed to focus solely on them.

My stomach turned and I swallowed past the bile that was burning my throat. I quickly looked down, taking a few steps back despite not wanting to show how much the graphic scenes were affecting me.

“You’re looking a little pale. Odd with how often you cut yourself.”

“Don’t go there, Jaime.”

“Don’t go there? And did I hear you correctly? What do you think this is, slave, a fucking game?”

He was on me, dragging me closer to the screen before I could slip through his hands. Panic soared and I jerked against his grip, crying out at the pain the raced through my bicep at his strong hold.

“Don’t turn away now. It’s only just beginning. You want this. You want to bleed out while you cut yourself.
You want to die.
Why is this so off-putting to you? Do you not enjoy seeing work so similar to yours?”

“Let go of me!”

Fingers wove through my hair, fastening at the back of my head, holding me still. I was helpless. Forced to watch what I couldn’t bear to see.

“Look at those incisions. How much deeper are they than the ones you inflict? When you take that razor to your skin, do you dream of moving the location to your arms? Do you dream of putting an end to it all? Answer me!”

The slight shake of my head had me screaming through the agony. Tears raced down my cheeks as one of the detectives on the video picked up the man’s arm, turning it from side to side to show a better angle of the wound. Aching clutched around my heart, squeezing it so tight that my throat couldn’t help but follow. The gagging was automatic and I wasn’t sure if it was from the death that was displayed before me or being faced with my own demons.

“Go ahead and throw up, but you better answer me in between your heaves or I’m going to bend you over that bed and tear into your ass. Do. You. Dream. Of. Cutting. Your. Wrists.”

Each word was short and full of rage.

“Yes. All the time.”

“Keep watching.”

His hold was gone so fast that my head suddenly felt weightless. The need to turn and attack him was there, but I didn’t move. Wetness was quickly covering my face from the tears yet I didn’t wipe them away as I took in the scene before me. For minutes I watched. Then what felt like an hour. Suicide after suicide, the bodies—the wounds—soaked into my memory. Emotion became so extreme that I was shaking through the investigations, and then … it was gone. Numbed out from my brain refusing to take anymore. I could feel myself going into zombie-mode. I felt here, yet not. And still, I watched, until the color flashed and the television went black.

“Bathroom break. I’ll start making your lunch. Come downstairs when you’re finished.”

In a daze, I turned around to face him, nodding. Words wouldn’t come, only actions born from instinct.

“Hey.” His finger slid under my chin, bringing my face back up. I took in his lowered lids as he stared at me “When I give you an order, you say, yes Master.”

“Yes, Master.” Robotic. Yes, that was me.

“Good. Go. I’ll see you downstairs.”

Even as I obeyed and headed out of the door, I knew what was wrong with me. I may have not been able to fight the fog I was drifting through, but I was aware enough to know seeing all the deaths had fucked me up. And not just from the magnitude of how graphic they were. No, it was the victim’s faces. They were nothing but shells. Soulless. I wasn’t even there in person, but I could sense their departure as if I were.

The click of the door sounded behind me and I walked to the counter, placing my hands down on the marble surface. When my eyes rose, I swallowed hard as I began to stare into my own depths. When I killed myself, I wouldn’t look like this anymore. This person before me would appear a stranger—nothing more than an empty vessel—to first responders.
To Jaime
.

God, he’d be the first to see me like that. I wasn’t sure why, but I didn’t want him to. It didn’t change my mind about the need to commit the act, but to have him there while I was doing it? I wasn’t sure I could. Or that I wanted to. I was so fucked up. Life, death. They were in a constant battle over my soul and I knew which one would win. Death always got the upper hand.

I turned on the water, splashing the cold against my face. The frigid temperature had me fighting for breath and for the smallest moment I relished it. The tightness of not being able to breathe went right along with my desire of pain. For some reason, suddenly that made me sick. Who was this person before me? Who was I? Everyday people were living their lives and here I was, locked away in a mansion because I was so screwed up and unstable that I wasn’t fit to live in the outside world. I hated this. All I ever wanted was to be normal. Be devoid of this sinking, suffocating feeling inside of me.

Metal hit against the wall as I jerked the hand towel free of the holder it rested on. As I patted my face, I couldn’t deny how achy I was starting to become inside. The numbness was retreating and what was taking its place wasn’t good.

Get a grip, Lydia. This is ridiculous. You can push this away. You have now for months.

The suicide, yes. But not the cutting.

My eyes flew up to the mirror, regardless that I wasn’t seeing my reflection. The addiction to releasing the pain that way was real. Just as real as any drug I’d ever taken. Maybe even more so. What was I going to do if I wasn’t able? How was I going to cope? Sure, there were times I could push it away, but I’d never had the choice taken away from me. And suddenly, I couldn’t stand it. Why should I have that restricted while I was here? I was going to die in four weeks anyway? What should it matter?

I dropped the hand towel on the counter, yanking open the top drawer. There had to be something here. Anything that could make the tiniest slice. Jaime wouldn’t even see it. I’d put it somewhere safe. Somewhere—

My head shot up. The cameras. He was probably watching, and he’d know the movies would affect me.

A sound of desperation slipped from me as I pushed in the drawer, slowly. Captive, trapped. The words kept repeating in my head continuously. I had to get out of here. I had to find a way.

I glanced over at the toilet, groaning. No privacy, anywhere.

Embarrassment mixed with anger as I went through the routine. I felt violated. Hell, I
was
being violated, but there was nothing I could do about it. By the time I washed my hands and went to the table, I was shaking with fury. Jaime was nowhere to be seen, which told me he was probably in the kitchen. I wasn’t sure how, but I knew he was somehow keeping an eye on me. Even from there.

I pulled out the chair, sitting stiffly as I waited. It didn’t take long for him to appear, holding a plate. The look he gave me told me everything. He knew. He knew it all.

“Eat as much as you can and then we’ll continue.”

A sandwich was placed before me. Regardless that I didn’t want to eat, I did. My bites were savage as I tore into the bread, meat, and vegetables. And I didn’t look away from him, either. I couldn’t.

“How much longer?” I was barely able to swallow the last bite before the words tore free.

“Until I say.”

I took a drink of the water sat out and could have cried. My head was pounding from the lack of caffeine. I felt sick, mentally and physically. I didn’t want to have to go back and look at more gore.

“You’ve proven your point. I get it.”

“That’s for me to decide. I don’t think you have.”

My fingers tightened on the thick plastic cup as I lowered my gaze to the plate made of plastic too. Jaime spoke, but all I could think about was bleeding—cutting. Did they fucking think of everything? There was nothing breakable within range that could do the job. Not that I’d be able to before Jaime restrained me. But the opportunity would have been nice to have. He even took that when he took my freedom.

“Head up.”

My head stayed down, but my eyes cut up to his.

“Head. Up. You’re slipping, slave. I see you derailing right in front of me, and we’re only just beginning. Are you ready to crash? Is that what’s about to happen?”

I forced my face up, shaking it almost violently. “I’m fine.”

“You’re sure trying to pretend to be. Don’t think I missed your little slip in the bathroom. You’re dying to fillet yourself to pieces and it’s killing you not to be able to.”

“You know nothing! I could have been looking for anything.”

“Oh, you were. Anything that would break your skin clean open. You need release? Is that it?”

Water sloshed over my hand as I slammed down the glass. “I said I’m fine.
Master
.”

A smile tugged at the side of Jaime’s mouth, but it was anything but nice.

“I guess I just got my answer. Keep going. Let’s see what happens.”

The warning was there, but my hysteria wasn’t allowing me to calm. He was right. I did need release from the building chaos inside. I had no control and I wasn’t sure what to do.

Jaime stood, unbuttoning the suit’s jacket and sliding it off to go on the back of the chair. His actions left me easing to my feet. I knew it would get me into trouble, but I didn’t care. I pushed his patience further. His outcome would be my doing, and there, I held power. It may have been destructive, but it was my way, and what did I have to lose? If he killed me, at least I was the one who initiated.

“I want to leave. I want you to unlock the front door and let me go right this fucking minute.”

“Who said it was locked?”

Our eyes met for only a second before I spun and raced toward the entrance in the next room. I didn’t doubt Jaime was following behind, but I didn’t care. He would have had to get around the table, which gave me a head start. If the door was unlocked, I’d be through it before he would. As for what happened after that? I wasn’t sure. I wasn’t thinking. My need was driving me forward, faster than I could ever remember running.

I slid to a stop, reaching out for the knob. When it caught in my hand, I couldn’t stop the yell from escaping. Frantic, I tried twisting it open, but it wouldn’t move.