Masked Definitions (33 page)

“Max.”

“She has a right to choose what she wants,” Elijah states, taking another step towards us both. “You can’t keep steamrolling her.”

“MIND YOUR OWN FUCKING BUSINESS!” Max’s voice is louder than I’ve ever heard it. “You stay away from my wife or I
will
fucking kill you.”

Elijah blanches, surprised at his words and the menacing tone to them. “Olivia, call Ross.”

“Liv, let’s go.”

“If you think for one moment that she’s going anywhere with you…”

I see a glint of silver and scream the second Max points it directly at Elijah’s face. The handle of the sharp, jagged-edged blade is so heavily soaked in a dark brown, I can only slightly see the beautiful gold patterns that stream around it. “If you think I won’t kill you, you’re wrong.”

“Elijah,” I beg, tears now tumbling down my cheeks. “Please, stop.”

“See, she doesn’t want you. Do you?” Max moves to my trembling form, keeping the blade and his eyes directed at the love of my life. “Do you, Liv?”

“No.” I assure him and he sneers smugly at his older brother.

“Don’t you dare!” Elijah threatens, keeping his hands high to show Max that he’s not a threat. “Don’t you dare be a martyr, Olivia.”

“Shut up,” I snap, my teeth chattering. I’ve never felt so close to death as I do now.

Elijah takes a step towards us both when Max’s blood stained hand grips my bicep. My hair whips around my face as I’m spun. A sharp point touches my neck as my tense back rests flat against Max’s chest.

“Take another step and I’ll kill her and then myself,” Max snarls. I close my eyes, pushing tears down my cheeks. “You can’t have her. She doesn’t want you.”

“Max,” I beg, gripping the wrist of the hand that wields the knife. “Don’t do this.”

“Let’s put the knife down and talk. You’ve gotten this all wrong…” Elijah tries and fails as Max bellows.

“DON’T YOU FUCKING DARE!” The arm holding me to his chest tightens. I feel his spit hit my cheek with his yell. “I’ve been begging you… fucking
begging you
like a little
fucking
pussy for WEEKS to help me find her. You…” I’m dragged backwards. “You have led me on a wild goose chase.”

“Look, maybe we should calmly discuss this.” Elijah takes a slow step towards us and all I see in my mind is him getting stabbed and dying. “I’m certain we can come to some sort of arrangement.” He reaches out a hand to me and my heart stops. Elijah is treading a very thin line.

“Keep your hands off my wife,” Max hisses.

“Haven’t you done enough?” I ask, imploring him to leave us alone, hoping he gets the message through my eyes. “Just stay away. The damage is done. There’s no coming back from this.”

“Don’t fucking talk to him,” Max screeches and spittle flies from his mouth as he yanks me backwards and away from his brother. “Stop looking at each other!”

“You’re hysterical.” Elijah holds up his hands, his eyes wary.

“You can’t have her!”

“I don’t want her. I just don’t want her to get hurt.”

“Good, because she doesn’t want you! Do you, Liv?”

I whimper a no, too scared to shake my head for fear of assisting the sharp edge of the blade, which is pressing against my neck.

“She wants me. She’ll always want me,” he continues shouting. “Always. She’s mine. She’s not leaving me, not for you.”

“You’re acting fucking insane,” Elijah shouts back and I really wish they’d both stop. This isn’t helping things. “Look at what you’re doing to the woman you claim to love!”

“Keep pushing me and you’ll find out just how insane I can be.” With that, I’m grabbed and dragged again.

“Max, stop this,” I say softly, my eyes closed, and I feel the knife loosen on my neck. “I’m sorry… I’m so sorry for hurting you so badly. So fucking sorry.” His chest deflates a little and the arm around me relieves some tension. “I’ve missed you. So much.”

Though my voice breaks on that last sentence, it wasn’t a lie. As crazy as this man is, I’ve never known any different and he always held a large part of me.

“Let’s just go home and leave Elijah to wallow. I’m done trying to make you jealous now.” I slowly turn in his arms, wincing when the jagged blade nicks the skin below my ear. My eyes open and find his, just as my arm is roughly yanked. I’m tugged away from my husband. His beautiful, childish eyes open wide with shock when he’s hit in the neck by Ross with some kind of Taser. Watching his body stiffen before falling to the ground with a thud is the most surreal experience.

Ross manoeuvres him into metal handcuffs as I let out a sob and Elijah pulls me into his chest.

“It’s okay, we’re safe…” Elijah soothes me and what feels like moments later I’m watching police men take away my screaming husband.

The seconds tick by in a blur. I’m asked questions by numerous people. The nick on my neck is cleaned by Elijah. I count both Ross’ face and the other guard’s face, though the other guard looks a bit dazed and has blood trickling from his brow.

I think the only time I speak is to tell him to go to the hospital.

My stomach twists and turns with nausea.

Elijah continues trying to talk to me… for what result I don’t know. I just… I feel lost. I feel as though my soul is a separate entity, trapped behind a window, watching the scene with a displaced feeling. It’s almost like watching a TV show that doesn’t hold its…
my
… interest.

That was the scariest time of my life, not including when my mother was kidnapped. I need her more than ever right now.

“So what happens next?” This is the first sentence that Elijah speaks that I actually tune into.

“They won’t be releasing him from custody until he’s sentenced. He’s too much of a flight risk.” This is his solicitor’s response. “His solicitor will tell him to plea insanity, especially since he’s been cutting himself so deeply.” Cutting himself? My mind recalls the blood stained hands. Stephen must be okay.

“Good,” I say softly and walk to the window. We’re back at Elijah’s humongous house. I don’t remember coming here. I’m not sure if I even want to be here.

Like a dramatic movie scene, the rain hits the window with such a heavy downpour I’m surprised to see the ground outside isn’t flooded. Like a moth to the flame, it draws me close. I turn and leave the room, then the hall and then finally I step outside and leave the garden.

The heavy droplets hammer against my bare arms and hair. The cold seeps into my skin, only making me feel more numb than before.

“OLIVIA!” Elijah yells, his voice carrying over the sound of the car wheels splashing through puddles as they drive along the busy street. “Wait…”

My feet stop when his hand grips my shoulder and, with my permission, it helps me turn. I count the rain as it drips from his long lashes, shadowing icy eyes that swim with concern. His white shirt immediately clings to him and turns translucent, making the skin it clings to seem pink in contrast to the caramel colour I know it to be.

“Where are you going?”

“To my mum’s,” I respond honestly and his hand falls from my shoulder.

Sorrow joins the concern in his eyes. “You’re still leaving me, aren’t you?”

“I…” I can’t look away. “Yes.”

“But…”

“I don’t trust you.”

He looks away as my hand pushes his wet fringe from his forehead. “I would have given my life for you.”

This pierces my bubble of numbness but not enough to make me change my mind. “I would have done the same.”

“Don’t go,” he begs, his voice quiet, only just loud enough to hear over the noise. “I… you know how much I love you.”

“I know.”

“Then
please
stay.”

I shake my head. “I need to be alone.”

“I fucked up…”

“It’s not just about that.” I snap. “It’s not just about you or what you did. I’m free. For the first time in years I feel free.”

“What does that mean?”

My teeth trap my lower lip and his eyes longingly hold that region. “It means I’m free. For once I’m not scared or trapped. For once I’m fucking free and I need to try it for a while.”

“Why can’t you try that with me?”

“Because you ripped my fucking heart out when you lied to me.”

He winces and opens his mouth to argue but quickly shuts it again.

“I’m sorry, but I…”

“Don’t be. You can’t help how you feel.” He states coldly. “But just know that you’re ripping my fucking heart out right now.”

It’s my turn to wince. That’s not what I want. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Yet you are…” His laugh that follows is breathy and humourless. “Go… find your fucking freedom whatever that means.”

“Elijah.”

He turns away, trying to hide his distress and failing as I saw just how badly I’m hurting him in his eyes. “Fuck off, Olivia. Just go.”

His long legs carry him away from me and my evil self. I’ve never hated myself as much as I do now but I need time to myself. I need time to process and I wasn’t lying when I said that I can’t trust him. Not only that, the ease with which he can walk away from me only solidifies my feelings of mistrust.

Or so I thought. I feel his arms close around me from behind seconds after I turn and start on my own path. His soft lips touch my ear. “Please…
please
,” he whispers. “Don’t go.”

I can’t deny that a huge part of me wants to stay. It would be so easy to just be with him and contribute little but my body and the occasional stimulating conversation to this relationship. He’d end up thinking he owns me and I’d end up bored and feeling worthless.

Or maybe that’s my anxieties talking? All I know is, if I were to stay, I’d need to completely trust in not only him, but myself.

“I can’t.” I press my temple to his and hear his shuddering breath.

“You won’t come back.”

“You don’t know that.”

“You do.” He clears his throat and I daren’t look at him because I know that seeing his handsome face and eyes full of love and hurt will weaken my resolve.

“I can’t do this.” I pull free and clench my hands into fists. “I’m sorry.”

“Is this all you wanted me for? To help you get rid of Max?”

“If that’s truly what you believe then this is definitely for the best.” I respond coolly.

“What can I do?” He asks, sounding almost desperate as I move towards the road, needing to put as much distance between us as possible.

“Nothing.” I pull my phone from my pocket and call my mum. “There’s nothing you can do.”

Nine weeks, three days and eleven hours ago I walked away from Elijah. For two weeks I cried. My heart and soul felt hollow and empty and it took me writing notes to myself around the house to remind me of why I was doing this. Why I was leaving the man I love.

‘Find yourself.’

‘Don’t live your life for a man or because of a man. Live your life with one if you so choose.’

‘Stop stressing the FUCK out.’

‘Make your own decisions. Stop asking for second opinions on YOUR happiness.’

‘Be brave. Be smart. Be patient.’

‘Find a job, you lazy bitch.’

For the first few weeks, Elijah didn’t make it easy. He not only showed up to my mother’s house five times to talk to me – without success – he also sent gifts almost daily. Flowers, cereal, jewellery, clothes, cards, handwritten notes, the few pictures we have of our time together... Each one cut through me more and more until I told my mum to start sending them back and then he stopped sending them altogether.

As cruel as it may seem, he lied to my face numerous times and people that lie don’t change. I’m unwilling to give him a second chance based on that fact. I don’t want to be in a relationship with someone who will disrespect me and hurt me like that.

On the plus side, I’ve started taking dancing classes, street and ballroom. I want to study all forms until I’m too old to dance any longer. The problem with this is that it costs money and already I’m eating through my savings.

I also rejected Enri’s offer to have me pole dance in a video with him. I honestly can’t say that was for myself. I genuinely didn’t want to hurt Elijah any more than I have already.

Max received his sentencing two days ago. Because of the fact he is an immediate flight risk, they prioritised his trial and he’ll be spending a substantial amount of time on lockdown. I hope one day he’ll heal from all of this and find happiness. I hope one day he and Elijah can have a healthy sibling relationship, though I think I more or less screwed up any hopes for that.

I used to feel so guilty for what happened between Elijah and I, but if having a knife to my throat has taught me anything, it’s that life is a fucking cliché and you only live once. How can I regret something so beautiful and powerful? What Elijah and I have,
had
, was love. Real, true, love. To this day I can’t say that level of feeling for him has changed. It hasn’t; I’ve just learned how to handle it better.

Now that my divorce is final and so is the restraining order, I feel a new wave of grief. If Elijah hadn’t betrayed me the way he did, we’d be able to be together now, openly. I push that thought away and focus on the positives. Max is no longer a part of me beyond being a memory. For this I’m grateful and definitely happy. I feel as though I’m finally getting the relationship with my mother that I missed out on too, definitely a positive.

“You have a letter,” Mum yells from the hallway as I push my eggs and beans around my plate. It’s not the healthiest breakfast choice.

“There’s only one person who sends me mail,” I respond brokenly and circle another ad in the newspaper. It has only been nine weeks since I left Elijah. Things aren’t going to change overnight. Despite prowling through the city, handing in my CV everywhere I go, I’ve had no offers for interviews and even if I did, I’m not sure it’d put me on the path to happiness.

I feel as though I’m floating now, with no true direction. At least before I had Elijah, I was certain that I wanted him with the same insecurities about my future that I have now.

Mum places the white, rectangular envelope beside me on the table. I lift it with my free hand as my other continues playing with the fork on my plate.

“It’s hand written.” I daren’t open it, too fearful of what he has written. I just know it’s going to be some formal goodbye where he tells me he’s moved on and he’s hoping I’ll do the same. There isn’t a single ounce of me that wants to read that. “Throw it away before I cave.”

“Maybe you should just see what he has to say?” My mum just doesn’t get it.

Shaking my head, I take my plate and scrape the contents into the bin. “No. I know what it says.”

“How can you possibly know what it says?”

“Because he hasn’t called in six weeks, or sent a single message.”

“Well neither have you,” she points out, though it only proves my point.

“And I’m not going back.”

“Maybe he just made a mistake…”

“Don’t do that,” I snap, my frown deep. “Don’t defend him. He lied. I can’t come out of a relationship with a manipulative, abusive bastard and go straight into a relationship that is showing the same signs.”

“People lie all of the time. We’re human. You’re only judging Elijah because of his relationship to Max. That scares you.”

I nod. “You’re right, it does scare me and if I’m scared of Elijah it means I don’t trust him. I can’t be with somebody who might possibly end up fucking me up so badly I’ll never recover.”

“If you say so.” She sighs.

I pick up the letter and hold it over the bin. Once it’s gone there’s no going back. Do I truly want this?

“No,” I whisper to myself but I have to do this. I can’t… I can’t go back to that.

Elijah’s face lights up in my mind, his handsome smile, the mischievous twinkle in his eyes when attempting to seduce me. Tears burn and threaten to spill onto my cheeks. Will he remember how desperately I loved him? How desperately I still love him?

I wish signs were real. I wish somebody up there, wherever the fuck they are, would send me a sign right now to tell me what to do.

With a slam, the lid on the bin shuts, startling me and forcing me to pull back my hand. The one holding the letter.

Blinking slowly, disbelievingly and breathing heavily, I look up to the ceiling, shrug and say, “Okay, I’m convinced.” Then my fingers tear into the envelope as my mum closes the back door to keep out the strong wind.

I notice a piece of torn sticky tape clinging to the outside back edge of the envelope as I’m tearing it but I pay it little mind as the note from within falls onto the table. My fingertips feel like lead as I pinch the sides and read Elijah’s beautiful scrawl.

When I read the first line, my heart clenches so painfully I can’t be sure if I’m legitimately having a heart attack.

‘My beautiful, Enna-Olivia,

I’ll begin with the truth because I promised it to you. Last week I went on a date with a woman I met through a friend. We kissed at the end. It was a kiss like any other. The touching of mouths and moving of tongues… I’m certain you know how a kiss goes. As memory recalls, you definitely know how a kiss goes and you know well.

I don’t understand why he’s torturing me with this.

I wish I hadn’t wasted such energy on another. Truthfully the entire evening was a sham. I went for one reason and one reason only. Because I had heard that you had been in touch with a certain someone about a particular music video. Instead of listening to the ending I assumed the worst and I was so deeply affected I immediately sought to hurt you. When you said to me you had no interest in dancing for Lockhart and then I discovered you’d been in contact the moment we broke up, I thought the worst of you and as I said above, I sought to hurt you by using another. I have been a child. The pain I felt from simply believing that you were lying to me is excruciating. I can only apologise for inflicting such pain on you numerous times.

I now fully understand why you have left me and I don’t blame you. After everything Max put you through, for me to suddenly begin behaving the same and to treat you as less than my equal is appalling and I will forever be ashamed of myself.

Tomorrow, across multiple magazines, you’ll see me kissing another woman in front of the Hilton. I staged it that way. I wanted to be seen with Claire Esquire because I knew that you’d see it.

I know I’m a terrible person and I shan’t ask for your forgiveness, only a fresh start.

No longer will I pester you to return to me and act like a spoilt child not getting his own way. Instead I would like to come to you as your equal and ask, not demand.

If you give me one last chance, just one, I will never let you down. Join me in America as planned. I can’t continue living happily without you. That’s not emotional blackmail; it’s the truth.

I would like a fresh start to show you that I can be different; I can be all that you expect your partner to be. We can work together to build such a beautiful future. I wish I could show you the inside of my heart to prove to you just how wholly it beats for only you.

There is no other female or male in this world that could ever have a piece of it. If you abandon it it’ll be lost forever. I’ll become one of those men that marry simply to breed. I’ll be an empty shell; I can foresee my miserable future. Again… not emotional blackmail, only the truth.

Fact of the matter is, I MISS YOU. I LOVE YOU.

I can’t stand another day without you.

I followed you last week as you took your CV to multiple stores. You looked as sad as I am inside. You look more beautiful than I remember.

Please… give me… just one more chance to prove to you that I can be who you desire in every sense of the word.

Come with me to America in two months.

I promise you that I will never betray your trust again.

Just one more chance. What do you have to lose?

Here are some extra cheesy quotes that I have collected from the internet just to hopefully sweeten the deal.

You light up my life.

Are you religious? Because you're the answer to all my prayers.

Are you a camera? Because every time I look at you, I smile.

Did you sit in a pile of sugar? Cause you have a pretty sweet arse.

Do you have a plaster? Because I just scraped my knee falling for you.

Do you know what my shirt is made of? Boyfriend material. (My personal favourite).

If I were a stop light, I'd turn red every time you passed by, just so I could stare at you a bit longer.

I wanna live in your socks so I can be with you every step of the way.

If you were a vegetable, you'd be a cute-cumber.

XXX Elijah XXX

P.S. Think about it. You don’t even have to answer right away. If you haven’t been in touch by September thirtieth, I’ll assume you’re done with me and you’ll never hear from me again unless necessary.

His name becomes a blotch of black ink when one of my tears lands directly onto it.

“Did he win you over?” Mum asks, raising a sceptical brow. “Because…”

“I need to think.” She snatches the letter from my hands. “Hey, that’s private.” I don’t fight her for it. I actually think I need some kind of insight on this.

When she sniffs with sorrow and then laughs at the cheesy lines, the same as I did, I know he has won her over too.

“What have you got to lose, Baby?” Her voice is soft and quiet. “If it doesn’t work, you’re only going to feel like you do now anyway. What’s one more chance going to do? It could be the right decision.”

Fuck.

“That bastard kissed another woman.”

“That’s all you got from such a beautiful letter?” She scoffs.

“No, but… still.”

Her eyes sparkle with humour. “What are you going to do?”

Grabbing my cardigan from the end of the banister, I pull it on and pop a mint into my mouth to stop me from grinding my teeth with nerves.

“Where are you going?”

“To speak to him.”

“All it took is one letter?”

It seems silly. Do I seem weak? “What do I have to lose?”