Brutally Beautiful(86)

With heavy wet pants, I trudged back up the stairs and into my bedroom. Inside my mind, I could feel the pressure building, the not knowing what had happened in her past, and whom she was running from. The question that slammed around my brain like a damn pinball machine was if the person I was obsessing over, the one that made me calm, the one I didn’t want to leave. Was she a cold blooded killer? Or was whatever she did justifiable? My mind raced, and the pressure came close to bursting through my gray matter and splattering it against the walls.

Struggling to peel my pants off, my anger took over and I ended up ripping them off and launching them across the room into the corner, where they landed with a loud wet splat then slid wetly down the wall. I yanked open my armoire so forcefully the inside drawer came flying out at me and landed on my foot, sending sharps spikes of pain across it. “Bloody-Motherf*cker-Wank-Shanking-Bugger!”

Pinching my fingers over the bridge of my nose, I knew I had to calm myself; I needed to get back downstairs and try to talk to her. I couldn’t be up in my bedroom having a goddamn episode.

Rummaging through the mess of clothes that had spilled all over the floor, I found a pair of boxer shorts and pulled them on, then ran for the brandy. Opening the plug, I took a long swig right from the canister trying to settle my anger, then with harshly clenched fingers, I poured us both a glass. The only image that came to mind to help calm myself was smashing both glasses against the wall while still in my hands. I wanted to see the blood that would drip from the wounds and feel the burn of pain. I itched to taste the coppery liquid when I placed my mouth against the broken skin, craved it.

The walls of the room felt heavy against my flesh, moving in, taunting to close around me and collapse upon my body, trapping me. Sounds became solid and tangible. My antique hand-forged wrought iron clock drummed its heavy ticks and tocks inside my temples. Outside the window, rain hissed and clanked against glass like bullets from the sky. Creaks and groans of the floorboards under the rug cracking and whining from my weight sent splinters of electric heat up through my legs. Every sound was somehow physically assaulting my senses, and my breathing accelerated along with the beating of my heart.

Desperately, I tried to focus on the image of Samantha, downstairs, trying to control my monster. I barely made it back down the steps without having an attack. All I had to do was see her.

When I walked back into the room, Samantha was standing in front of the fire, staring into the burning embers as if they held all of life’s answers. For a moment, I stood quietly and watched her, wondering if I would ever really get to know her. Her pale ivory skin took on a golden glow in the firelight and I knew I would never again in my life see such a beautiful haunted woman. She raised her arms, twisting up the long dark locks of hair, and clasped them in her hands almost as if cradling her head from frustration. Her chest rose and fell slowly as she took in deep breaths, and I could do nothing to take my eyes from the curve of her breasts and the perfect contour of her hips. She was no cold-blooded killer. Someone hurt her and she needed to defend herself. A fierce wave of possessiveness washed over me and my mouth ran dry. I wanted to erase everyone she had ever loved, any man she had ever cared about, and take her all for myself. Obliterate every memory of anyone that had ever hurt her, and fill her mind with just me. Only me.

Would she even want me after all I had said? Would she take me for half the messed up person I was? Why did it feel like she understood me, as if she’d been touched by violence too?

There was no easy synopsis to give her for what I had gone through, but there was never an easy way to let people in when all you want to do is hide from the things that have hurt you. So, I understood her silence, her hesitation and her pain. I could have told her every little detail of my nightmare, but to what avail? I just wanted to give her some part of me, so she could give me a part of her, so she could trust me.