Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 97525 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 488(@200wpm)___ 390(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97525 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 488(@200wpm)___ 390(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
So today, I'm going to end it in a way that leaves no doubt in Lee's mind. Not like last time. I’m mortified by what happened, what was caught on the camera, and watched by Dr. Terra and Brant … I swallow, trying to keep the cucumber roulade I’d eaten for lunch down.
I am an intelligent woman, one who is traditionally in control of her emotions, but Lord help me, I cannot look in that man's face—Brant’s face—and pretend I don't love him. I can’t see that level of anguish and pretend that I don't care. If he touches me, I can’t stay unaffected, but I must try my best. I must hold a tight and unflinching front.
I settle into the chair and Brant gives me a tight smile. He rubs his palms together as if to warm them and he is as nervous as I am.
I take a deep breath as Brant lies down on the dark blue couch, and it’s a new couch. I wonder what happened to the other one and when they moved it out of here. It feels like a question I should ask, but would he sense my desperation in it? Because I suddenly want that couch. I want to move it downstairs into our love den, and I want to lie on it naked and close my eyes and touch myself to the memory of our last time together, whenever I want to.
Instead it’s gone, like it never happened, and that’s probably why Brant got rid of it, because the sight of it likely reminded him of what Lee and I did on it.
“Layana?” Brant cranes his head back and looks at me. “Are we going to start?”
“Of course.” I force a smile and begin the hypnosis script.
When Lee comes out this time, it is different. The fight is weaker in his eyes. He doesn't immediately reach for me, doesn't bound to his feet. He suddenly seems like an old man in Brant's body, and I am both heartbroken and hopeful at the change. This is what Dr. Terra said would happen, that Lee would grow weaker and weaker with each session.
I don't move from my spot in the chair. I sit there and feel like I'm watching him die, and in a sense, I am. A minute passes, and it’s agonizing. I’m close to speaking when he finally clears his throat and begins.
"I'm not smart. Not compared to you and Brant."
Just a sentence in and already the tears are coming, welling in the back of my throat and leaking from the corner of my eyes. I swore that I wouldn’t cry, was going to pin down all emotions and keep everything professional—but I’m already unraveling, just from the gruff sound of his voice.
"I’m guessing that you two have a plan. Some way to remove me."
I look down, breaking the eye contact. A tear streams down my cheek.
"What is it? What's the plan?" He sighs as if the weight of the question is heavy.
"You already know I need to break up with you." My voice wobbles and I swallow, forcing myself to straighten up my posture and look him in the eye. Emphatic, that’s what I need to be. Emphatic and confident. Damn, he's handsome.
"And then? When I fight it?” He hunches forward, gripping one fist in the other, his face tight, voice strained. “When I come out every time his mind loses control—what then?”
We are over, Lee. That’s what I supposed to say. The words stick on my tongue and I inhale deeply, then force myself to deliver them.
“We are over, Lee. If you come back, I’ll ignore you. What happened last time—that was the last time. We are over.”
He laughs, and it’s a sad chuckle that runs fingers up my inner thigh and breaks my heart, all at the same time. “You know why I kept coming back to you, Lucky?”
“What do you mean?”
“Back in the beginning. When I first met you. When you used to chase me around like a dog in heat.” The words are rough, but his face isn't. “You weren't my type. Don’t get me wrong, you could make my dick stand up and salute the flag in a few seconds, but I like my girls rougher around the edges. I didn’t want you and your fancy words and your perfect makeup and hair—but there was one thing that was different about you from every other woman.”
He turns his head and looks at me, and whatever he's about to say, he means every word of it. I lean forward, desperate for the knowledge.
“It was the way you looked at me. You believed in me. You thought I was something special. You fucking cared about me and for me. Fucking loved me.” He pauses, and I can’t look away from his eyes, I can only nod because he’s right. Of course I felt that way.