Reid
“How have you been since we spoke on the phone? Any more hallucinations?”
On a smirk, I shake my head. I feel good today. In fact, I’m feeling better than I have in a long fucking time. But then again, it kind of helps when you have a crush on your therapist, and she turns up wearing an above the knee skirt rather than her normal below the knee ones. Just looking at her knees turns me on. It’s almost like peeling my first layer off her. Bit by bit, achingly slow.
“Nope, no more hallucinations,” I answer, rubbing my hands up and down my thighs. I notice Dr Mercy watching me, and it makes me wonder if I turn her on in any way. I’d like to think so.
“Have you been laying off of the alcohol and drugs?”
I huff. “I’d hardly call it drugs. It’s only a bit of weed.” She gives me an unimpressed look. “Okay, have it your way. Yes, I have been laying off the booze and drugs.”
She squints one eye, surveying me. “Are you sure?”
“Fuck me, I know we’re in Spain, but I didn’t expect the fucking Spanish inquisition today.”
“Reece,” is all she says, warning me. My dick instantly hardens.
Why is it only her that can get my dick stirring?
“Yes, I’m sure.” I smirk, even though I’m lying. Just last night alone I downed three double whiskeys. Earlier today, I’d watched that tape of the doc giving Felicia a wank, had a wank myself, and then smoked a joint afterwards. Fucking fantastic.
“Your eyes look a little bloodshot.”
She’s like a fucking hawk!
“I’ve not been sleeping much.”
And that is true. I still dream of Scarlet. In it, she’s very much alive and running after me with a knife in her hand. She’s naked, blood is all over her, and there is a manic, almost demonic look on her face. Just at the point she’s about to plunge the knife in, I wake—normally covered in sweat—and strangely enough, it’s always with the hard-on of the century. A bit fucked up, but then that’s me all over.
“Why do you think that is?” she asks, glasses held at the end of her nose as she glances up at me from her writing pad.
God, she reminds me so much of Scarlet. I realise it must be all in my head, but it’s still there.
I shrug, looking away, and I know she can read me like a book. “Scarlet,” is all she says, making me cringe.
I don’t look at her when I answer. “Yes.”
I see movement out of the corner of my eye. She bends forward, lays her note pad and pen on her desk, takes her glasses off, and looks me in the eye. “Reece, we need to address this. You won’t be able to move on until we do. There’s something you’re not telling me. I don’t need to be a therapist to work that out.” When I don’t answer, and instead look away, she sighs. “Do you feel responsible for her death?” I snap my head back to her, my eyes widening. She smiles, almost triumphantly. “That’s it, isn’t it? You feel responsible, like it was you who killed her.”
I did kill her.
I don’t answer her, though. She waits for the response, but nothing comes out of my mouth.
“In one of our other sessions, you said that you blamed her for her death, and although I do feel that’s true—to an extent—I also believe you feel the tremendous burden of guilt, and until you start addressing it, you will never learn to heal.”
I fix her with my glare. “And what if I feel I don’t deserve to heal?”
Looking sad at my comment, her eyes are downcast for a second before sighing. “I think maybe that’s the first step towards healing. You first need to step up to what you feel you’ve done and learn to forgive yourself. Only when you do can you begin to heal.”
I shake my head on a laugh. “I’m not sure she would feel the same way.”
“Talk to me more about that.”
“About what?” I ask. “About the fact that she fell in love with someone else, and I refused to let her love another?”
“If you feel you need to, then yes. I want to know it all, Reece. How did finding that out make you feel? Be honest.”
I skit my eyes across the room at the numerous pens on her desk. I need to focus on something other than this gigantic fucking hole in my heart.
“I feel betrayed, beaten, pissed off, murderous—you name it.”
“You loved her. It’s only natural.”
I chuckle. “As natural as knowing that I’m fucking my own sister.”
“Well, technically, you weren’t related. You never had the same mother or father.”
“No, but she was brought up by the same scumbag of a father as I. He was supposed to be her father and ended up being the one who fucked her up the way she was.”
She frowns. “In what sense?”
“Even after all the rapes, all the beatings, and all the humiliation, she still ran to him when he clicked his fingers.”
“Why do you think she did that?”
Stretching my right leg out because it’s gone dead, I shake my head. “Fuck knows. He made her into this kinky bitch that got off on it in adulthood. She loved the fact that she knew he wasn’t her father, but yet made him believe she thought he was her real dad.”
“He never told her?” I hear the shock in her voice.
“No. She overheard her mum and dad talking after her aborting his baby went wrong.”
“It sounds as though Scarlet went through a hard time in her life.”
Upon hearing that, my feelings change—for the first time with regards to Scarlet—and instead of feeling the anger, betrayal, or guilt, I just feel sad. “She did.” Feeling a heavy heart, I close my eyes. “I wanted to make it all better. In fact, I was planning on escaping with her here until …” I stop myself before I reveal what I did to her.
“Before she died?” I nod my head. “Let’s cling onto that a moment, Reece. Tell me, what were your plans for Scarlet before she died? If she were here now, where do you think you’d be?”
“Probably married to her. And pregnant.”
“Did she want all those things?”
I smirk. “No, but I’m very persuasive. I would have made it happen. Scarlet and I were meant to be together. Nothing and no one could have stood in our way.”
“But it sounds as though she didn’t feel the same way. By your own admission, she fell in love with someone else.”
I grit my teeth. “That wasn’t love. It was some schoolgirl infatuation. She just wanted to live the youth she didn’t have for a little while. And, for a short time, I let her. I let her until I realised that she was looking at him the way she should have been looking at me.”
“How did she look at you?”
I huff. “As a means of escape. In all things. Sex, life, her family … her past.”
“It made you feel like a scapegoat?”
I laugh at the choice of word. “Yes, I guess so. I was her out. The person used as an exit from her shitty life.”
“So, if that was the case, do you really think you would have been the perfect match?”
I shrug. “I don’t care. I just know I had to have her, and when I want something, I get it.”
I can tell by her face that she’s unhappy with my answer. “Don’t you think that sounds a bit obsessive, Reece?”
I chuckle again. “I don’t care what it sounds like. That is how I felt.”
She picks up her pad and pen and starts writing again. “So, Scarlet was more of an object to you than a person?”
“Call it what you will. She was mine. Even when I allowed her to fuck others, she was still mine. Even when she was fucking my father, she was still mine. Do I need to go on?”
Crossing her legs, she looks up. “You sound angry.”
“Of course I’m fucking angry. That’s why I’m here, isn’t it?” I know my voice has raised a couple of octaves, but I don’t give a shit. When the thought of her rages war inside of my head, then I feel the instinct to battle.
“I’m going to be honest with you.”
I roll my eyes. “Oh, this should be fun.”
“Your relationship was toxic.”
I laugh. “When you said that, why did I suddenly picture you in that Britney Spears stewardess getup singing her song, ‘Toxic?’”
“You’re using humour to hide how you really feel.”
“And how do I feel, Dr Mercy? You’re the expert here, so you tell me.”
She stills for a moment, watching me. “You’re hurt, confused, angry, and extremely bitter. You feel tremendous guilt for her death—the reasons why I’ve yet to ascertain. And to top all of that off, you’re still mourning her loss as if it had happened yesterday. That wound, which was cut open all those months ago, is going to continue to fester until you acknowledge the way you feel.”
Without meaning to, I place my hand on my chest, gripping my heart like I’m trying to protect it. “I don’t need to acknowledge shit. I just need her out of my fucking head.” Closing my eyes, I rub my hands over my face.
“Reid,” I hear her whisper.
My eyes snap up to Dr Mercy, but she’s busy writing something down. “What did you say?”
She poises her pen, looking up. “I said that you won’t move forward unless you—”
“No, no, no. You said my name.”
She frowns. “What? Reece?”
Gritting my teeth, I say, “No,” but then I realise I can’t say what my name is. Not unless…
“Scarlet?” I ask her again, for probably the thousandth time in however many weeks.
She looks exasperated by me. Well, that makes two of us!
“Reece, how many times do we have to go over this? I’m not—”
And then it hits me. It’s her. It has to be. Getting up, I cut off whatever she has to say next and storm towards her. When she sees me coming, she gets up from her seat and edges up against the edge of her desk. Within seconds, I have my hand around her neck.
“I know it’s you, Scarlet. Remember this? Remember the feel of my hand around your neck all those months ago? Do you enjoy making me squirm, huh?” I see the fear in her eyes, and it should make me pull away, but instead I get angrier. “Why are you doing this to me?!” I scream, gripping harder.
“Reece!” she squeals, “Please … stop. You’re hurting me.”
Her words come, making my dick stiff. Her smell invades my nostrils, and I breathe it in like it’s my oxygen. I feel the contours of her body next to mine, and it sends my mind crazy. I have to have her.
I loosen my grip, but not enough to let her go. She’s shaking beneath me, but she doesn’t make a sound. Running my hand up her thigh, I lean in close and inhale the scent on her neck. “Fuck, Scarlet, I’ve missed you.” It’s almost as if I’m in a dream. I should shake her and ask questions, but all I can focus on right now is that she’s here … with me.
And I need her.
With a firm grip, I run my hand up her legs, and that’s when she fights me. “Reece, get off me now, or I’ll scream.”
I don’t listen. Instead, I kiss her neck, nibbling and biting her as my hand travels up higher and higher until…
She screams, surprising me enough that I don’t realise she’s pushing me off her. When I do, I rush to get back between her legs when she raises her knee and kicks me in the fucking nuts.
Blinding pain. That’s all I feel is blinding fucking awful pain.
It robs me of sight, and at first, it robs me of my hearing. But then, I hear a commotion, and it finally registers that I’m being picked up and dragged out the door by two security guards when I see Dr Mercy in the distance, sitting on the edge of her desk. Her hair is all dishevelled, and she’s crying on the shoulder of her receptionist.
Shit.
What have I done?