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Two weeks ago, Dr. Terra told Lee about the DID diagnosis, and his role in Brant’s psyche. Lee refused to believe it, wanted to talk to Brant, then lost his temper when that option was refused. As he kicked his chair over and threw the trash can against the wall, Dr. Terra stayed calm and cited facts that laid the truth out in simple clear reasoning that Lee refused to listen to. He vocalized his hatred for Brant with every four-letter word known to man. It was disastrous. I fled the watching room halfway through the outburst, unable to watch his breakdown.
Since that day, Dr. Terra has met with him four more times, and Lee has grown more hostile and uncooperative with each session. The last meeting, he just laid on the couch with his eyes closed and cherry-picked the questions he felt like answering. Today, I’m hoping my presence will help. I need him to listen, to be open to what I say, and I pray he doesn't break my heart any further.
"Lucky." His eyes open and he sits up, glancing around the room before meeting my eyes. I am tense, his emergences sometimes volatile, but he only rubs his neck and shoots me a sad grin. “So, I'm still stuck in Crazytown, huh?"
"Yeah."
He holds out his arms. "Come here. I need to hold you."
I don’t hesitate, moving forward and breaking Dr. Terra’s rules with every step. I don’t care if it’s not the right thing to do—I need it as badly as he does. I miss him. I sit sideways on his lap and sag into his chest. He inhales deeply against my neck, his chest rising underneath me. His mouth grazes across my neck and his teeth scrape and then gently bite the skin right below my ear. I lean closer, feeling every single digit as he runs his fingers down the front of my body, and he whispers my name as he kisses a line from my ear to my collarbone. "Don't do it," he whispers. "I know what you're going to say, and you can't say it."
"I have to," I breathe, and now his hand is skimming over the top of my bare knee and sliding under the hem of my skirt, in between my thighs, his fingers pushing roughly against my attempt to keep them together. I think of the doc, right on the other side of the glass, his pen and pad of paper in hand.Within one minute, subject began to grope Ms. Fairmont. I thought of the video filming this session for Brant to watch, after the fact. I thought of the script that we had gone over ad nauseam that I'm supposed to stick to. In it, I tell this beautiful man that I never loved him, and that I only dated him to keep tabs on Brant. I'm supposed to stress the fact that I want him to leave so that I can be with Brant.Lies. Filthy, dirty lies. His fingers are incessant as he pushes his hand higher up my thigh, underneath the tweed A-line skirt that is only helping his cause. This morning, I spun the racks of clothes in our massive closet and picked this one out of the hundreds on hangers. I could have selected a more restrictive style, or a dress slack, but I didn't. Did I know what he would do? Had I picked it intentionally? Am I really that cruel—to myself? To Brant? Part of me already knows the answer, but I cram that piece down into my stomach, as far from my conscious thought as possible. “Stop,” I say weakly, just to prove to our audience that I am trying, sort of trying, to be good. “Please, Lee. Stop.”
He ignores me, as I knew—hoped—he would.
"You don't have to say it," he continues his case as one hand travels higher and the other pries my legs apart, his mouth hot against my neck, stealing rough kisses in between his words, kisses that burn at my skin and leave emotional marks that won't wash off.
"I do, Lee." I fully abandon the script the moment my thighs lose the battle and fall open. His fingers move immediately to the silk crotch of my panties, teasing me through the fabric as his tongue flicks and sucks against my neck. "I can't keep dragging Brant through this,” I gasp out. “The only way it will work is if you leave."
He tugs my panties aside and pushes two fingers inside of me, the sudden invasion causing me to stiffen, and he takes advantage of the moment to kiss me. His tongue is deep and forceful as he pushes and curves his fingers, fucking me with them right there on the couch. I try to think of the doctor, of the video camera, but I can't stop him. I don't want to—not when I have craved this for weeks. Every single night I’ve laid in bed next to Brant and felt nothing but a cold distance as he's tried to sort his way through this. Now, I open up my legs further and press his hand to me, urging him deeper, letting him understand the level of my need and begging him to take me further.
"I don't give a damn about that man," he growls, pulling off of my mouth and pushing to his feet, dumping me off his lap. I fall, my hands flailing out and he catches me just before I hit the floor, the rescue more out of necessity than chivalry.
"Bend over," he orders and yanks at the zipper of his jeans. "And listen to me.” He pauses and waits until I turn, my knees already on the couch, my hands gripping the back of the cushion.
“I will never leave you,” he swears. “I will never let you fuck him without my name on your mind." He places a hand on my back, pushing up the black sweater until his palm is against my skin and grips my waist, squeezing me. With his other hand he lifts my skirt, bunching it around my hips, pulling my soaked panties to the side. "Tell me you still love me.”
There is the hard press of his cock, first at the back of my thighs and then inside of me and my back arches at the dominant, angry invasion that seems devoid of any control. I gasp out his name and claw at the back of the couch as he withdraws, then shoves back in. It's torturous, the intense pleasure of his entry and the delicious need of his withdrawal, and I cry out when he stops, just his head inside, and nudges gently in and out, the minute push so different, so teasingly short of what my body needs. "Please," I beg, reaching back for him, desperate for more.
"Tell me you still love me."
I close my eyes tightly but it's not enough, the tears seeping through and streaming down my cheeks, my feet straining on their toes as he rocks a tiny bit deeper inside and breaks every last dam around my heart. "I love you," I whisper and earn an inch or two more.
"Tell me you need me."
"I need you," I weep. "Please."
He grabs the meat of my ass, squeezing it hard as he pushes fully in, then drags out.
Over.
And over.
Over.
And over.
He fucks me as if I am dirty and his slut and his to do whatever he wishes with. He fucks me as if he can give me any order and I will greedily obey. He fucks me as if his cock is my lifeblood and every stroke of it ties me to his will. I cry out his name and close my eyes to the tears as he relentlessly takes me because all of it is true.
"I will never leave you, Lucky," he whispers as he leans forward and wraps a hand around my chest. He pulls my hair until my head is arched back and his mouth covers mine. He kisses me and swallows a bit of my soul in the process. "I will never leave you," he promises as he buries himself in me and releases his orgasm.
Chapter 83
There is silence in the observation room when I open the door and walk back in. Dr. Terra is sitting on the stool at the desk, his trusty pen in hand, his notebook page full of cramped neat writing, and I can only imagine what he’s written down.
He looks at me and I look at him and I don't have the emotional fortitude to defend myself or to discuss what has just happened. He looks at the window and I look at the window, and Lee is there, on his back on the couch, his pants pulled back up but unzipped. He looks pleased with himself, and I don’t want to know how far back I have set this process.
“I'm sorry,” I say.
