Jacob
Leah...she thinks she could get rid of me so easily.
Well, I'll leave her alone. That's what she wants. What she needs. What she deserves. But what will her life look like when she thinks I'm behind bars?
Baby girl just doesn't realize how powerful I am. It makes my cock twitch because I ache to show her just how powerful and how not locked away I am. But she wanted to escape me. I've got to let her have that.
I always knew Leah was strong. I should have known that she'd be the one to end this tragedy I started between us.
But I can't go one second of my day without my whole body feeling empty and wrong because she's not with me. Leah's not touching me. I can’t scent her on any of my sheets; she's not in any of the cavernous hallways in this house that feels like a prison now.
I'm fucking proud of her, though. I mean, she didn't let shit stand in the way of what she wanted. She built a damn good case against me with that two-bit shit Inspector Willoughby who would be lucky to get work shining shoes now, and I'm perfectly fine. Except I'm not fucking okay. I can’t decide which is worse. The harsh reality that Leah wanted to leave the entire time, or the simple reality that she's not here now and I can't fucking stand a second of time without her. I'm fucking falling apart. Leah thought she could bring me down with the law, and I took care of that. But she has no fucking clue that she can bring me to my knees by just not being here. Or she does know, and she doesn't give a fuck. It fucking stings.
So, it’s definitely worse that she's not here now. Every fucking rabbit hole I follow my soul down decimates me to the bone, and there's nothing left of me. I'm too fucking selfish. The bastard beast inside me wouldn't have just let her go. I know this. She had to set herself free, and if I had an ounce of Leah's grace, I'd let her go and keep myself from doing exactly what I'm texting my PI to do. Yes, I'm going to have to keep tabs on her. Because if I can't have her, I'll have to fucking stalk her. I have to know that she's okay. That she’s happy.
I clench my fists and shove them through several glass pieces of furniture I have, not happy until I've got hands more red than flesh colored.
She wasn't fucking happy with me. I will never be happy without her.
Leah's happiness means more to me than anything else. But it hurts like goddamn hell, and I don't have to fuck with it.
Everything. That's what I text the PI; I want to know everything. I'm still a bastard. At least this bastard let her go.
What will Leah's life look like when she thinks I'm out of the picture? What does happiness mean to her?
Other than being away from me? I run my hands under hot water, feeling every stinging sensation like a revelation. I deserve this pain. I need this ache. It is all I feel anymore since she went away.
It wouldn't even warrant a second thought, which it might be wrong to get my PI on Leah, and now that I'm actually thinking about it, I don't give a shit. My consideration and care for the matter, even as I toss them aside, is all I can manage. I have to know that she's happy. If being away from me does that, well, fucking fantastic, I'll let that rip me open, but it will all be worth it for two reasons. One, because I want Leah to be happy. Two, because I have to fucking see her, and I just won't take goddamn no for an answer. So I won't even let it be a question. I'll just steal my view of her like I stole her in the first place. Is there something to be said about this repeating pattern that ends with my dick in the dirt? Maybe, but I'm pretty fucking stubborn and not listening to that.
My phone dings with a call. I got sick of that incessant vibrating fast today, turning it off because it just made me think about Leah's sweet pussy on my vibrating cushion. The way her innocent face contorted with need from my every ministration. Fuck, I want my cock inside her so bad. I want her body in my arms so bad. My actual fucking guts could be in front of me, and it couldn't compare to this evisceration.
Looking at my phone, Davidson, my PI is calling me.
Why not text?
Is something wrong with Leah?
My heart fucking stomps down at the idea, and I answer the phone immediately, a panicked breath escaping my lips before I can hold it back. "Go."
"Sir, I'm ready to start the surveillance. I just need to know...is this going to be a team mission, or do you want me on the lead?" Davidson is keeping his tone even, but I can tell he's wondering if I want to go full batshit or have him handle something. Even Davidson thinks I've lost my mind, and well, he's probably fucking right. My mind, my heart, my soul, my world fucking evaporated and left with Leah.
"Just you, Davidson. You're the only one I trust to keep it perfectly discreet," I return in my measured tone.
I hear him say something in acknowledgment, but I'm already hanging up. If he has anything else to say to me, he can text. But right now, thumbing my temples, I need a drink. I need the kind of drink that involves the whole bottle. Something dark and hard as I feel right now, that burns going down and brings the kind of heat to your stomach that eradicates everything else.
I have bottles of four-figure brown alcohols that are certain to do the trick. People talk about saving bottles for good times, but past me must have bought this particular scotch I chose with the idea of my utter ruin in mind. I pour myself a decent two fingers and destroy that, then pour another. Destroy it. I drink several more this way until I have one that I'm going to sit with, and I wait for the alcohol to overtake my brain enough that I don't feel like I have to feel, well, anything.
The pain inside probably isn't going to go numb before I pass out, but either way, I'm getting to the end of this night a little bit out of everything. I can do that now, knowing that Davidson is going to have a report for me in the morning and I'll start what I know is going to be the shell of the rest of my life.
I'll watch her until I can't hold back anymore. Then I'll take her back, and make sure that she never gets away. That's really why I'm drinking now. It isn't the pain of the loss; it isn't the pain of my future loss of the final shred of my soul when I take her, it is that I actually fucking love Leah enough to want her not to have to be my prisoner. That I could not love her so that I wouldn't do what the bastard fucking beast within me will demand. I will fucking take her, keep her, and soon she'll be as dead inside as I am. I hate myself, but it is what it is. I stand to get another drink and fall back to my seat.