Arsen: A Broken Love Story
Page 41
“You say that you’re walking away from me and our marriage because of the strain the miscarriages put on our relationship.” He hits his chest painfully, “What about me? You think I wasn’t hurting just as much as you? Every f**king time I close my eyes, I can still hear the blood-curdling scream from that day. Sometimes I’m afraid to fall asleep because images of you covered in your own blood haunt me even in my dreams. You miscarried and lost the babies, Cathy. Well, I lost those babies too and I also lost my wife. I was left with nothing but memories.”
He pauses and wipes some tears off his face before continuing, “I wanted that f**king family too. You were able to retreat into your own head, hiding from everyone and anyone that cared for you. You stopped caring and I was okay with it. I was able to handle it because I kept f**king hoping that things would get better, that with time I’d get my wife back. Do you think you were the only one to ever doubt us? To want to give up on us? To want to hide? To wonder about other people? I’ve wanted to f**k other women too, Cathy, just so I could forget about you and remember what it feels like to be wanted, needed, again. But I didn’t. I loved you too much, and sadly, I still do, and I had more respect for our marriage, for you.
“All I really wanted was...I just wanted to hold you in my arms for as long as I could. I wanted that second or third or fourth chance for us to be whole again. That was all. So if you think you’ll be happy with Arsen, well good luck. But honestly, I don’t think you’ll be able to. You need to take a closer look at yourself first before you can be with anyone else, see why you couldn’t just open up to me and let me help you. But that’s not my problem anymore. I’m done. Just remember, Karma is a bitch.”
His painful words light an angry fire inside me, and I want to burn him with it. How dare he! Life has been hell for me since my last miscarriage, hell since the beginning of this whole mess. I haven’t been able to think straight since that day, not that it excuses my behavior. He wanted to know the truth, so I was giving him my own version of it, not once was I trying to justify my actions. I knew it was wrong the first time it happened, and I continued to know through the entire affair that it was more than wrong—It was unforgivable. But sometimes all the righteous reasoning in the world won’t stop you from making a mistake. Sometimes even holding onto someone as you’re falling won’t stop you from falling. Sometimes you just have to fall.
I am so angry at him, at myself. So guilty, so sorry, and so ashamed. But feeling shame suddenly makes me want to yell and scream and hurt him again and again. Shame makes me want to hurl things at him instead of apologizing.
Looking up from my spot on the floor, with tears falling down my face blurring my view, I answer him with the best that I’ve got. “Karma may be a bitch, but when he came inside me I didn’t care because I came so f**king hard that I saw stars!”
He stares at me, and the love I’ve seen in his eyes so many times before is gone. “You f**king whore…get out…get out!”
I did it.
I made him hate me just as much as I hate myself.
Now he can be free.
I stand up from the cold wooden floor of his office and walk to our bedroom. I need to go to Amy’s. I can’t stay here anymore. My marriage is over. Finished. Arsen was the fuel needed to burn my marriage to the ground, but I was the one who held the match in my hands the entire time.
Wiping my nose with my sleeve, I throw away as many of my belongings in the garbage as possible. I’m erasing my existence from his home. When I’m done, I leave the bathroom. Ben is standing by the large window facing our front yard, his back to me. With his head hung low in defeat, he’s gripping his hair so hard with his hands; I can see the muscles of his arms bunch up.
As I walk towards him, I notice his body slightly shaking. I want to pull him close to me and kiss his tears, tell him that I love him and that I meant the words I said last night, but what good would it do? It’s over between us.
My back now to him, I grab my coat and start putting it on when I hear him whisper, his voice raspy with tears, “The other night, when I didn’t come home…”
“Yes?”
“I almost f**ked Kerry.” He takes a deep breath. “I want a divorce.”
Not turning around, I let the meaning of what he just said sink in. I poisoned Ben. I deserve it. With the fight drained out of me, I whisper, “I understand. I’ll come back tomorrow when you’re at work to get the rest of my things.”
With these words fresh on my tongue, I leave.
Walking out of the door.
Walking out of his life.
Leaving my sunshine behind and letting the darkness, disguised as freedom, welcome me in.
When I’m standing outside the house, I look up from the driveway to our bedroom window and see that the curtains are drawn. As I turn and start to walk towards the garage, it finally starts to rain, wetting my face. Licking my lips, I can taste a mixture of salt and rain. Funny, I didn’t realize I was still crying.
The agonizing pain begins to gather inside my chest, ready to explode with grief. I take a few steps but stop dead on my tracks and stare at the wet cement. Rain keeps falling around me, droplets of fresh water making the asphalt under my feet glitter like stars.
I want to go back.
I’ve made a terrible mistake.
It feels as if I left my whole heart, my whole being back in that house with him. Standing here lost in the past, the truth comes crashing down on me. I do love him with all my heart, and I have lost him. Forever.
But I also love Arsen.
I can’t wait to go back to Arsen’s apartment. I need his kisses to erase the pain away like only he can. He’s my numbness.
Minutes pass and I want to move, but my body won’t listen. My feet are glued to the ground. I want the rain to cleanse me. I feel so dirty and so cold.
Empty.
Oh, Ben.
What have I done?Arsen.
I need him.
I need to see him and make sure I’ve made the right choice, even though deep down I know the answer.
I’m driving and trying to hold myself together. I can’t lose it just yet. I need to get to his apartment first. Then I can bury this crushing pain engulfing me in the deep corners of my heart and ignore reality. But the pain is too powerful to contain as it takes over me. I throw my phone on the passenger’s seat and wipe the tears off my face as deep gut wrenching sobs are torn from my chest. When I can’t stop crying, the tears preventing me from seeing ahead, I pull off to the side of the road and park the car.
As excruciating pain hits me from within, making me bend over at the waist, I wrap my arms around my stomach, attempting to shield myself from the pain. Shutting my eyes tightly, I fight the nausea brewing inside me as despair sucks the air out of me.
I can’t breathe.
I can’t breathe.
I can’t breathe.
I’m drowning in pain.
He is gone.
Gone.
Gone.
The love of my life is gone.
And it’s my fault.
I open the car door and throw up viciously on the ground. After there is nothing left inside me but bile, I rest my forehead against the cold glass of the driver’s window. My eyes ache with all the tears I’ve shed since this morning. The realization of what I had—and lost—begins to register in my mind, and in my heart.
How am I going to live a life without Ben in it?
He’s all I’ve ever known. He’s been my world, my truth, and my reality since I was eighteen years old. He’s the other half of me. Is there even a Cathy without him?
Tough shit. You did this, now you deal with it.
Even if I wanted to get Ben back, it’s too late for us. Too damn late.
I close my eyes for a moment, too exhausted to fight the memories. I let them take over, enfolding me in a bittersweet cloak made of yesterdays. The first time we kissed in the rain, the first time we said I love you, the day he proposed to me, the time he held me as I bled...these memories are all I have left of Ben, of our love, and they belong to me. And nothing will ever take them away from me. Nothing—not even my lying¸ cheating, deceitful heart.
As I start to drive again, my phone keeps ringing, but I ignore it.
Like I ignored it last night and all day today.
Arsen.
I need him. I need to see him. He’ll be able to take the pain away, make me forget like he always does with his numbing kisses and morphine-like touch. He’s the beautiful painkiller that my broken body and my shattered heart demand to stop hurting. I laugh like a crazed woman because I truly have no shame left and I don’t give a shit about it as long as I can make the agonizing ache of losing Ben disappear.
After I park the car in the garage of his building, I take the elevator to Arsen’s apartment. I glance around the square space and I’m able to see myself reflected on the mirrored walls; my eyes are puffy from crying, my skin pale from throwing up, and my lips still swollen from last night. As I look at the deranged woman staring back at me, I try to push thoughts of Ben away from my conscience.
By the time I make my way to his apartment, my body is shaking violently from nerves. I don’t know where we will go from here. What happens now? I love Ben, yet I’m standing in front of someone else’s door, waiting for him to f**k the pain and memories out of my head.
I happen to love this man too.
I gulp as I stand outside his apartment trying not to think about anything other than the physical release that my body requires from Arsen. I ignore the shouting voice inside my head telling me that Arsen is the wrong choice. If he is the wrong choice, why does it feel so good when I’m with him?
After ringing the doorbell, Arsen opens the door immediately and lets me in without saying a word. He looks like hell, maybe even worse than I do. Wearing only his Armani boxer briefs and nothing else, I can see the contours of his perfect body and the way his golden skin accentuates every groove and plain of his muscles. Whenever I see the dimples right above his ass and the deep vee peeking out of his underwear, an urge to lick him there takes over me.
I look up and absorb his achingly beautiful features. His eyes are bloodshot, his blond hair is a mess, and the dark shadows of his stubble give his face a menacing quality. Yes, I want him to f**k me raw. I want him to leave scratches, bruises, and red marks on me as proof of what I have done. I want him to f**k me until the physical pain numbs my entire being and my orgasms numb my mind.
In silence, we stare at each other for a long time. Arsen is the first one to speak. “Where have you been?” he asks shortly. “How come you haven’t answered my f**king phone calls? I’ve been trying to get in touch with you since last night.” He drags his hands through his hair repeatedly. “You said you were going back to your house to end things with him. How long could that have taken you?”
Watching his anger surface is like watching a tornado about to hit an unsuspecting town. Powerful. Breathtaking. Devastating.
“What the f**k is going on? Why are you standing there saying nothing?” Arsen walks towards me and grabs me by the shoulders just like Ben did not two hours ago, shaking me forcefully, desperately. “You were with him, weren’t you? You spent the night with him,” he asks repugnantly.
Nodding, I hear him curse under his breath.
“Did you f**k him?”
“Yes,” I whisper.
“How many times?”
I shake my head and try to move away from him, but Arsen tightens his grip on me, stopping me. “Look at me when I speak to you and answer my question.” His voice wavers, “How many f**king times, Catherine?” Once he realizes that I won’t answer him, he shakes me once more, almost as if the action will push the truth out. “Fucking answer!”
“Three times,” I say as I watch him flinch.
“Did you come?” he asks, swallowing hard.
“Yes.” I did. Every time.
“How?”
“What do you mean how?”
“How did he make you come? Did he f**k you from behind? Did he eat your pussy? Did he—”
“Stop! Stop!” I shout as I cover my ears. His words are making me sick. The truth makes me sick.
“Answer the f**king questions. How did he make you come? I want to know.”
“The first time he made love to me, he was on top of me. W-we came as we stared at each other. The second time, I sucked his dick until he came in my mouth as he a-ate my p-p-pussy. The third time, he f**ked me from behind on the edge of our bed.”
“Did you think about me?” he asks hoarsely.
“No.”
Arsen lets go of me. Fisting his hands, he closes his eyes as his breathing accelerates. When he stares at me once more, the harsh look in his eyes makes me take a few steps back.
“Catherine, go to my room, get na**d, and wait for me there. Do not ask f**king questions and do what I tell you.” He burns me with his blue gaze, “Go. Now.” He turns around and heads to his kitchen, leaving me alone.
In his bathroom, I take my Burberry trench coat off, my cream-colored cashmere sweater and skinny jeans next. My black-lace bra and panties are last. When I’m nude I walk out of his bathroom, expecting an empty room, but Arsen is already there, na**d and slowly pumping his erection in his hand. As he watches me walk towards him with preying eyes, I can feel myself getting wet. A foot away from him, I’m about to reach for him and kiss him, but Arsen lifts a staying hand.
“Get on your knees,” he angrily commands. “I want you to get on your f**king knees. Now.”
Stunned, I try to process his words.
“I SAID NOW, YOU FUCKING SLUT! GET ON YOUR FUCKING KNEES!”
Wincing as if he has slapped me, I get on my knees in front of him. I want to be angry that he called me a slut, but I am one. I’m a whore who cheated on her husband and now I’m back in my lover’s apartment.
He pauses and wipes some tears off his face before continuing, “I wanted that f**king family too. You were able to retreat into your own head, hiding from everyone and anyone that cared for you. You stopped caring and I was okay with it. I was able to handle it because I kept f**king hoping that things would get better, that with time I’d get my wife back. Do you think you were the only one to ever doubt us? To want to give up on us? To want to hide? To wonder about other people? I’ve wanted to f**k other women too, Cathy, just so I could forget about you and remember what it feels like to be wanted, needed, again. But I didn’t. I loved you too much, and sadly, I still do, and I had more respect for our marriage, for you.
“All I really wanted was...I just wanted to hold you in my arms for as long as I could. I wanted that second or third or fourth chance for us to be whole again. That was all. So if you think you’ll be happy with Arsen, well good luck. But honestly, I don’t think you’ll be able to. You need to take a closer look at yourself first before you can be with anyone else, see why you couldn’t just open up to me and let me help you. But that’s not my problem anymore. I’m done. Just remember, Karma is a bitch.”
His painful words light an angry fire inside me, and I want to burn him with it. How dare he! Life has been hell for me since my last miscarriage, hell since the beginning of this whole mess. I haven’t been able to think straight since that day, not that it excuses my behavior. He wanted to know the truth, so I was giving him my own version of it, not once was I trying to justify my actions. I knew it was wrong the first time it happened, and I continued to know through the entire affair that it was more than wrong—It was unforgivable. But sometimes all the righteous reasoning in the world won’t stop you from making a mistake. Sometimes even holding onto someone as you’re falling won’t stop you from falling. Sometimes you just have to fall.
I am so angry at him, at myself. So guilty, so sorry, and so ashamed. But feeling shame suddenly makes me want to yell and scream and hurt him again and again. Shame makes me want to hurl things at him instead of apologizing.
Looking up from my spot on the floor, with tears falling down my face blurring my view, I answer him with the best that I’ve got. “Karma may be a bitch, but when he came inside me I didn’t care because I came so f**king hard that I saw stars!”
He stares at me, and the love I’ve seen in his eyes so many times before is gone. “You f**king whore…get out…get out!”
I did it.
I made him hate me just as much as I hate myself.
Now he can be free.
I stand up from the cold wooden floor of his office and walk to our bedroom. I need to go to Amy’s. I can’t stay here anymore. My marriage is over. Finished. Arsen was the fuel needed to burn my marriage to the ground, but I was the one who held the match in my hands the entire time.
Wiping my nose with my sleeve, I throw away as many of my belongings in the garbage as possible. I’m erasing my existence from his home. When I’m done, I leave the bathroom. Ben is standing by the large window facing our front yard, his back to me. With his head hung low in defeat, he’s gripping his hair so hard with his hands; I can see the muscles of his arms bunch up.
As I walk towards him, I notice his body slightly shaking. I want to pull him close to me and kiss his tears, tell him that I love him and that I meant the words I said last night, but what good would it do? It’s over between us.
My back now to him, I grab my coat and start putting it on when I hear him whisper, his voice raspy with tears, “The other night, when I didn’t come home…”
“Yes?”
“I almost f**ked Kerry.” He takes a deep breath. “I want a divorce.”
Not turning around, I let the meaning of what he just said sink in. I poisoned Ben. I deserve it. With the fight drained out of me, I whisper, “I understand. I’ll come back tomorrow when you’re at work to get the rest of my things.”
With these words fresh on my tongue, I leave.
Walking out of the door.
Walking out of his life.
Leaving my sunshine behind and letting the darkness, disguised as freedom, welcome me in.
When I’m standing outside the house, I look up from the driveway to our bedroom window and see that the curtains are drawn. As I turn and start to walk towards the garage, it finally starts to rain, wetting my face. Licking my lips, I can taste a mixture of salt and rain. Funny, I didn’t realize I was still crying.
The agonizing pain begins to gather inside my chest, ready to explode with grief. I take a few steps but stop dead on my tracks and stare at the wet cement. Rain keeps falling around me, droplets of fresh water making the asphalt under my feet glitter like stars.
I want to go back.
I’ve made a terrible mistake.
It feels as if I left my whole heart, my whole being back in that house with him. Standing here lost in the past, the truth comes crashing down on me. I do love him with all my heart, and I have lost him. Forever.
But I also love Arsen.
I can’t wait to go back to Arsen’s apartment. I need his kisses to erase the pain away like only he can. He’s my numbness.
Minutes pass and I want to move, but my body won’t listen. My feet are glued to the ground. I want the rain to cleanse me. I feel so dirty and so cold.
Empty.
Oh, Ben.
What have I done?Arsen.
I need him.
I need to see him and make sure I’ve made the right choice, even though deep down I know the answer.
I’m driving and trying to hold myself together. I can’t lose it just yet. I need to get to his apartment first. Then I can bury this crushing pain engulfing me in the deep corners of my heart and ignore reality. But the pain is too powerful to contain as it takes over me. I throw my phone on the passenger’s seat and wipe the tears off my face as deep gut wrenching sobs are torn from my chest. When I can’t stop crying, the tears preventing me from seeing ahead, I pull off to the side of the road and park the car.
As excruciating pain hits me from within, making me bend over at the waist, I wrap my arms around my stomach, attempting to shield myself from the pain. Shutting my eyes tightly, I fight the nausea brewing inside me as despair sucks the air out of me.
I can’t breathe.
I can’t breathe.
I can’t breathe.
I’m drowning in pain.
He is gone.
Gone.
Gone.
The love of my life is gone.
And it’s my fault.
I open the car door and throw up viciously on the ground. After there is nothing left inside me but bile, I rest my forehead against the cold glass of the driver’s window. My eyes ache with all the tears I’ve shed since this morning. The realization of what I had—and lost—begins to register in my mind, and in my heart.
How am I going to live a life without Ben in it?
He’s all I’ve ever known. He’s been my world, my truth, and my reality since I was eighteen years old. He’s the other half of me. Is there even a Cathy without him?
Tough shit. You did this, now you deal with it.
Even if I wanted to get Ben back, it’s too late for us. Too damn late.
I close my eyes for a moment, too exhausted to fight the memories. I let them take over, enfolding me in a bittersweet cloak made of yesterdays. The first time we kissed in the rain, the first time we said I love you, the day he proposed to me, the time he held me as I bled...these memories are all I have left of Ben, of our love, and they belong to me. And nothing will ever take them away from me. Nothing—not even my lying¸ cheating, deceitful heart.
As I start to drive again, my phone keeps ringing, but I ignore it.
Like I ignored it last night and all day today.
Arsen.
I need him. I need to see him. He’ll be able to take the pain away, make me forget like he always does with his numbing kisses and morphine-like touch. He’s the beautiful painkiller that my broken body and my shattered heart demand to stop hurting. I laugh like a crazed woman because I truly have no shame left and I don’t give a shit about it as long as I can make the agonizing ache of losing Ben disappear.
After I park the car in the garage of his building, I take the elevator to Arsen’s apartment. I glance around the square space and I’m able to see myself reflected on the mirrored walls; my eyes are puffy from crying, my skin pale from throwing up, and my lips still swollen from last night. As I look at the deranged woman staring back at me, I try to push thoughts of Ben away from my conscience.
By the time I make my way to his apartment, my body is shaking violently from nerves. I don’t know where we will go from here. What happens now? I love Ben, yet I’m standing in front of someone else’s door, waiting for him to f**k the pain and memories out of my head.
I happen to love this man too.
I gulp as I stand outside his apartment trying not to think about anything other than the physical release that my body requires from Arsen. I ignore the shouting voice inside my head telling me that Arsen is the wrong choice. If he is the wrong choice, why does it feel so good when I’m with him?
After ringing the doorbell, Arsen opens the door immediately and lets me in without saying a word. He looks like hell, maybe even worse than I do. Wearing only his Armani boxer briefs and nothing else, I can see the contours of his perfect body and the way his golden skin accentuates every groove and plain of his muscles. Whenever I see the dimples right above his ass and the deep vee peeking out of his underwear, an urge to lick him there takes over me.
I look up and absorb his achingly beautiful features. His eyes are bloodshot, his blond hair is a mess, and the dark shadows of his stubble give his face a menacing quality. Yes, I want him to f**k me raw. I want him to leave scratches, bruises, and red marks on me as proof of what I have done. I want him to f**k me until the physical pain numbs my entire being and my orgasms numb my mind.
In silence, we stare at each other for a long time. Arsen is the first one to speak. “Where have you been?” he asks shortly. “How come you haven’t answered my f**king phone calls? I’ve been trying to get in touch with you since last night.” He drags his hands through his hair repeatedly. “You said you were going back to your house to end things with him. How long could that have taken you?”
Watching his anger surface is like watching a tornado about to hit an unsuspecting town. Powerful. Breathtaking. Devastating.
“What the f**k is going on? Why are you standing there saying nothing?” Arsen walks towards me and grabs me by the shoulders just like Ben did not two hours ago, shaking me forcefully, desperately. “You were with him, weren’t you? You spent the night with him,” he asks repugnantly.
Nodding, I hear him curse under his breath.
“Did you f**k him?”
“Yes,” I whisper.
“How many times?”
I shake my head and try to move away from him, but Arsen tightens his grip on me, stopping me. “Look at me when I speak to you and answer my question.” His voice wavers, “How many f**king times, Catherine?” Once he realizes that I won’t answer him, he shakes me once more, almost as if the action will push the truth out. “Fucking answer!”
“Three times,” I say as I watch him flinch.
“Did you come?” he asks, swallowing hard.
“Yes.” I did. Every time.
“How?”
“What do you mean how?”
“How did he make you come? Did he f**k you from behind? Did he eat your pussy? Did he—”
“Stop! Stop!” I shout as I cover my ears. His words are making me sick. The truth makes me sick.
“Answer the f**king questions. How did he make you come? I want to know.”
“The first time he made love to me, he was on top of me. W-we came as we stared at each other. The second time, I sucked his dick until he came in my mouth as he a-ate my p-p-pussy. The third time, he f**ked me from behind on the edge of our bed.”
“Did you think about me?” he asks hoarsely.
“No.”
Arsen lets go of me. Fisting his hands, he closes his eyes as his breathing accelerates. When he stares at me once more, the harsh look in his eyes makes me take a few steps back.
“Catherine, go to my room, get na**d, and wait for me there. Do not ask f**king questions and do what I tell you.” He burns me with his blue gaze, “Go. Now.” He turns around and heads to his kitchen, leaving me alone.
In his bathroom, I take my Burberry trench coat off, my cream-colored cashmere sweater and skinny jeans next. My black-lace bra and panties are last. When I’m nude I walk out of his bathroom, expecting an empty room, but Arsen is already there, na**d and slowly pumping his erection in his hand. As he watches me walk towards him with preying eyes, I can feel myself getting wet. A foot away from him, I’m about to reach for him and kiss him, but Arsen lifts a staying hand.
“Get on your knees,” he angrily commands. “I want you to get on your f**king knees. Now.”
Stunned, I try to process his words.
“I SAID NOW, YOU FUCKING SLUT! GET ON YOUR FUCKING KNEES!”
Wincing as if he has slapped me, I get on my knees in front of him. I want to be angry that he called me a slut, but I am one. I’m a whore who cheated on her husband and now I’m back in my lover’s apartment.
