I wasn’t surprised the next morning when Andrew came up and wrapped his arms around me in a firm hug.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered too low for Lila to hear.

It wasn’t an, “I’m sorry I was such a douche,” but an, “I’m sorry for what you went through.”

We pulled back, and I stared him in the eye and nodded. Andrew gave me a sad smile, then glanced to Lila.

“I won’t say anything.”

Lila didn’t understand, and her curiosity was getting the better of her. She knew more truth about what happened to me physically, but unlike Caroline and Drew, she didn’t know what I’d lost.

There was no longer animosity between us, which confused Lila to no end. The fire had died, and he accepted that Lila was mine. A friendship formed, and it was the first one I’d had in years. I’d forgotten what it was like to talk to someone who didn’t walk on eggshells around me.

I begged Lila to give me time, but I wasn’t sure there would ever be enough time to prepare me for that conversation.

Scandal hit the office a week later, and suddenly Lila and I were on edge again. The rumored relationship between two Holloway employees turned out to be true. The non-fraternization was so strict it even covered those working in two different departments that didn’t interact. For all anyone knew, they could have met at a bar and found out later they had the same employer.

It wasn’t the same for us. Our small office only seemed to shrink while the tension soared.

“Your birthday is coming up in a few weeks, right?” Lila asked one afternoon as I flipped through a file.

Every muscle froze as a barrage of images flew across my vision and a sudden flare of pain erupted in my chest.

“I don’t celebrate my birthday.”

I didn’t have to look at Lila or say another word. She didn’t ask any questions or even speak. Most people would verbalize their internal questions, but she silenced hers.

In fact, Lila barely asked questions about me, and only delved into my past when something brought it up. Like my Harvard T-shirt. We both knew all she had to do was Google my name and any questions she had would be answered, but she never did.

Which only made our situation volatile. She was waiting on me to open up, but it would never happen. I cared for her, but I didn’t think I could and would ever tell her. It was too deep, a hole I didn’t want to go near. Why would I jump into that kind of emptiness and drag her in with me?

Just the thought of my birthday sent the darkness crawling in like a fog.

The fog grew with each day, wrapped around me with each passing hour. Every day, it got thicker and darker. Lila had me so distracted that the date crept up on me, but the second she reminded me, albeit unintentionally, everything turned.

The anniversary was a blanket of oppression stifling each breath. With each day, the darkness closed in. My hands shook, anxiety buzzing through my veins.

It all leaked into my time with Lila. The only way to release the pressure and the pain was hard, rough fucking.

 

 

“Nate, you shouldn’t be doing that,” Grace said.

I quirked a brow at her and looked down at the game of chess before me.

“Why not?” I asked.

There was something eerie about all of it, but I couldn’t put my finger on it.

“It’s dangerous.”

I rolled my eyes. “It’s just a game, Grace.”

“No. It’s not. You’re blind,” she said.

“I don’t understand.”

“Look, Nate.”

I stared down at the pieces on the board. Instead of the normal pieces, there were people. On the opposite side of the board were men dressed in dark suits. The king was familiar. A frightening familiarity. The queen beside him was a woman I knew well.

“Grace?” I picked up the piece and, sure enough, it was my wife.

The eyes popped open, and she looked surprised before she began screaming, but no sound came out. I set the piece back down, the dark eyes of Vincent Marconi looking back before lifting his arm, gun in hand, toward the other side of the board.

I was the king, and beside me was a broken and frail looking queen that was an unmistakable tiny version of Lila.

“What is going on?” I asked.

“It’s a choice.”

I scrunched my brow. “A choice? I thought it was a game.”

“Choices are moves in games. You chose to go left instead of right.”

The queen moved left, putting her in the intercepting path of Vincent’s gun.

“Each choice is an action and as such, has a reaction. We’re all pieces on a game board, but look at your side. There are no pawns left to protect you or your queen. One lonely rook, one beaten knight, are all you have left.”

“He destroyed it all,” I whispered.

“No, he didn’t. You did. And you will destroy her.”

“No.” I shook my head. “Never.”

“What about me, Nate?  We were forever, and now we’re never. The only similarity is ever. Life isn’t guaranteed, but ever is always there. Ever is the catalyst for life and death. At any time, in any way.”

“I won’t. Lila will be fine.”

“Lila will be dead.”

“Don’t say that!” I screamed and grabbed her by the arms. “Don’t you ever fucking say that again. She will live, even if I have to die.”

She began to glow, morphing. Blue eyes turned a clear gray-green. I wanted to smile, kiss her, but red droplets began to cover her, and her eyes stared at me in a hauntingly familiar empty look.

“I’m already dead.”

Shaking woke me, and my eyes snapped open. I was out of the bed in seconds, my leg stiff from sleep causing me to stumble as I made my way to the bathroom. I leaned over the sink and turned on the cold water, splashing it on my face.

A dream. A fucking terror.

I felt Lila behind me, staring, but I couldn’t look at her. The image was too fresh, her body mangled and bloody, and I was to blame.

I heard her call, saw her reach out of the corner of my eye, but I couldn’t respond. I shied away from her, from her outstretched hand, and crawled back into bed.

The dream only called out my harsh reality and what being with me ultimately meant for her. It was something I ignored because for the first time in years, I felt some measure of happiness.

But my happiness was not worth her life.

I would keep her alive even if it killed me in every way possible.

 

 

My mood, my situation, did not improve. My heart beat a furious pace at almost all times, my anxiety at epic levels.

“Do you want to do anything special for your birthday?” Lila asked one afternoon.

My birthday?

The shock alone sent a spear of pain through me. How did she know?

It was an innocent question, but to me, it was a dagger shoved into my chest. “Please don’t say that again, and don’t tell anyone. I don’t celebrate my birthday…not anymore.”

Lila didn’t say anything or ask any questions.

When the actual date rolled around, I retreated into myself, something Lila took notice of. I was hard with her, the devastating energy driving me. I needed the mind-wiping come, needed it to drag me under and make me forget. Shine light on me, guide me in the emptiness.

What was worse was two days later. Halfway through the day, I left without a word. Jack would understand, and there’d be no trouble, but I couldn’t even tell Lila. I had to get out of there, had to drown myself just to get past the day, past the hour. The countdown to 9:16 pm.

I shouldn’t have even stepped inside the office. There was no way I’d be able to handle it.

The moment I was home, I pulled the vodka from the fridge and took a long, hard pull straight from the bottle. It was only a third full and wouldn’t last long.

Deep inside I shook, from my core expanding outward. I wasn’t good to be around, nothing but a destructive force.

The draw to see her moved me to the closet and the box that lay hidden. I hadn’t even acknowledged its existence since that day months before when it tried to pull me under. But I needed it, more than anything. I needed to see her, to see them, to completely submerge myself in the pain.

I threw the blankets and sheets off, uncovering the box and pulling it into the middle of the closet. My hands shook as I flipped the lid, the beast howling inside my mind, but I was driven by the need to see, to rip open the scars of my heart.

A vice wrapped around my chest as I lifted the lid, getting a glimpse of my wife for the first time in over a year. Tears filled my eyes as I looked over the top photo, the one I used to have sitting on my desk. Jack stood between us beaming with pride, my wife’s eyes sparkling.

Life was so easy, simple then. At least that was how it seemed looking back. Photos of us in college, my Harvard graduation were in there. Then came our wedding photos. We were so young and naïve, ready to tackle the world.

I took another large gulp of vodka as the tears slowly trailed down my cheeks.

I pulled a small jewelry box out and opened it up. Inside sat the only remnant of that wedding—my wedding ring. The small ring of gold was the only thing to survive the crash intact, not even a small divot in the smooth surface. They managed to get it off before it had to be cut off due to the swelling from my broken arm.

I finished off the bottle, my mind a complete wasteland. I needed more, so I picked myself up from the disaster zone I’d created, slipped the ring into my pocket, and headed to the kitchen.

Once there, I stared into the fridge and the six pack of beer that sat on the shelf, one of the bottles missing. I’d been drinking the same brand for over a decade. My wife had brought it home one day in a mixed package of different beers.

My chest expanded, and I let out a howl, all of my energy concentrated as I tried to force my pain out. Loud and wounded, but it wasn’t enough to expel the churning despair inside me.

Nothing in me was salvageable. I shouldn’t have taken the job, but it was just another piece in a long line of my failures.

I grab hold of anything in the kitchen not tied down and threw it, dinging walls and sending shards of debris everywhere, screaming as I let it all wash over me and take over.

My breath was hard, the kitchen a mess of broken glass and ceramic. I opened the fridge again and pulled out the package of beer. In less than a minute I had the top popped and the first bottle drained.

Two more in hand, I grabbed my cigarettes and headed out to the porch. It was warm, the day too nice outside for the destruction inside me. I was a bomb, explosive and destructive.

Numbness moved through me as I finished one beer and opened another.

I lost my entire life—my home, my job, my family, my health. Everything that I was, gone in an instant.

The ring in my hand was a reminder of how fucked up I’d become. I stared at it, remembering the moment she slipped it on my finger.

It was a symbol of love, and now it was a symbol of loss.

 “Nathan?”

Lila’s voice penetrated through the emptiness, and a searing pain cut through me as I continued to twirl the ring in my fingers. I wasn’t going to let her end up like my wife. Loving me was a death sentence.

I had to let her go.

“You shouldn’t have come today, Lila,” I said, my voice hollow even to my own ears. I reached down and picked the bottle up and took a swig. “I can’t control what I may do. I’ll hurt you. I don’t want to hurt you.”

Run. Run while you can. Don’t let me destroy you.

“I’m not going anywhere. Tell me what’s wrong.” Determination laced her voice.

There was no holding it back from her. She’d seen the ring. “Four years ago today, everything fell to ruin. Leave, Lila.”

The pain whirled inside me, growing and heaving.

“I’m not leaving, not when you’re finally talking.” She stepped closer.

I needed her to understand, to get away from me, to save herself before it was too late. “I don’t just mean today. Leave me. What we have is fucked up.”

Save yourself.

“It may be fucked up, but it’s helping us both. We need each other.”

“I’m not good to be around.”

“You are. You are good to be around,” she said, her voice breaking.

No!

The violent energy surged, and I stood and flung the bottle against the wall. Liquid and shards of glass sprayed everywhere. In my periphery, she jumped, perhaps frightened of me for the first time.

I wanted to break something, mangle, hurt myself on the outside until the pain went away on the inside.

“You don’t fucking get it! I lost everything that mattered most. My family. The family they stole from me, and the one I pushed away for their own safety.”

I stepped forward and slammed my lips to hers, my hands fisting in her hair. The anger and pain was too much to handle. The first bomb exploded.

“Leave me,” I begged. “I can’t lose you the same way I lost her.”

It would kill me.

Her hands ran up and down my back. It was supposed to be soothing, but instead stroked the destructive fire in me.

“I’m here, take solace in me. I need you.”

Take solace? There was no comfort for me, no peace, not for me.

A growl ripped through me, and I walked her backward and into the brick wall. “I can’t fucking do this to you. I won’t.” I refused to drag her down with me, to let my nightmares become reality, to let the past repeat itself.

I pinned her arms to the wall, the pull to her as strong as the push away.

“It’s okay,” she soothed. “I want you to do it, let me take your pain.”

“Push me away and leave. Please, Lila!” The desire tore through me and combined with everything else for a perfect storm as I ripped her shirt off. “I don’t want to break you.”

The resistance, the last wall, crumbled and everything flooded in.

I drowned in the pain, drowned in her.

Hands clawing at her skin, begging for some sort of release from it all. I picked her up and walked her inside, pausing to tug my own shirt off. We made it to the bed and I had her beneath me.

I couldn’t touch her enough, taste her enough.

Nothing was enough for what was the last time.

Inside her was pure pleasure, but it couldn’t combat my mental state, couldn’t push through the noise, through the pain.

Lost in the fog of my own mind, I thrust forward. I couldn’t see anything, hear anything, barely feel anything. Rougher, harder, deeper to find her, but it was like I was fucking the wisps of fog in the nothingness.

I couldn’t find my way, couldn’t stop. With each thrust, I fractured more as I searched out the thing that connected us, but I couldn’t find it.

I pushed harder, faster, running from it all. Each slam was like a hammer strike, cracking and shattering everything around me, but I still couldn’t break through.

My whole body was tense, breath caught in my throat as I exploded, my dick twitching with each pump of come. I let everything out in her, poured it all in stream after stream.

The air was gone, muscles tight as I gasped. The energy dropped, dissipating the cloud that blinded me.

I stared down at her, at my Lila, as my mind came into focus. I was inside her still, which meant I’d been fucking her, but somehow it didn’t feel real. Her eyes met mine for a brief moment before rolling back.

Ice shot through my veins as I looked down at her, felt the burn of scratches on my skin.

What did I do? What the fuck did I do?

The beast whimpered as I unclenched my hands. My nails, which were short, popped out of her skin leaving crescent shaped marks. Some were so deep that I’d cut the skin, leaving little trails of blood with the red tinge of her skin.

Guilt flooded me as nausea rolled through me. It was my fault. I lost all control.

No more. I refused. I wouldn’t play the game anymore. I wouldn’t hurt her.

I physically hurt her, and it made me sick.

Seeing her like that, damaged, because I physically did it to her, cleared my mind. The pain was new, fresh. It hadn’t had years to build up, but only moments of remorse.

My Lila.

My Lila that I was destroying.

I pulled out, shuddered at the feeling, watching as some of my come spilled out. The sight before me left me reeling. Tears still slid down her cheeks, her skin covered in pink and red. It was not her normal look of well fucked.

She looked beaten, abused, and it made my stomach turn, the sick feeling increasing. I did that to her. I hurt her. It wasn’t someone from her past, but me, someone she trusted.

There was more pain circulating through me than any one person should handle, and I just made it worse.

I threw on some clothes before wrapping her up in a blanket. She couldn’t stay. I had to make it a clean break. Firm. It was the only way I could handle it and stick to it.

The most difficult thing I’d done in years was take her to her room and leave her. The most painful thing was saying… Goodbye.

 

 

Lila,

I can’t do this any longer. I refuse to hurt you again. Please keep your distance, and I promise I won’t come to you anymore. We’ll act like we never happened.

Nathan