Breached
Page 8
“We expected you an hour ago,” Dad said when I arrived at their house an hour later.
I could only nod. “I know, and I’m sorry.”
“Is everything all right?” he asked with more than a hint of concern.
I nodded. “I got lost.”
“Lost?” He quirked his brow, knowing there was no way I meant the path to their home.
“Swallowed up,” I said in clarification.
He regarded me for a moment, then nodded. “How are you now?”
I let out a sigh. “Exhausted.”
I froze at the weight of his hand on my shoulder, loving it while at the same time fearing it. “I know it takes a lot out of you. Thank you for still coming.”
I gave a stiff nod, and we headed down the hallway to the kitchen where my mom’s voice echoed around the room.
“Oh, come on, you silly thing,” she said, trying to get some piece of food to cooperate.
“Hi, Mom.” I leaned down and gave her a kiss on the cheek.
“Nathan.” Her smile was beaming, igniting the guilt. I was an only child, and I’d abandoned my parents for their own safety.
My decisions and actions created a disease that infected everyone I loved, and many others that I knew. I wasn’t fit to be around anyone.
CHAPTER 5
Two fucking weeks of fucking being around Delilah, and I was a fucking madman. The beast was uncontrollable, banging on his cage, trying to force his way out and into her.
I was reduced to nothing more than a monster ruled by my cock.
Every inch of me wanted to be sucked into her pussy, every drop of come splashing inside her.
I hated her. Absolutely fucking loathed her.
It could have been the situation or just the proximity to a pretty pussy, but every five seconds my dick twitched at the thought of bending her over her desk and fucking the shit out of her.
Annoying as fuck, cock teasing woman.
Every day women practically threw their breasts in my face, but the ones I wanted to titty fuck were always conservatively concealed. Somehow, Delilah made conservative sexy. The four-inch heels she wore every day drove me insane, and her skirts just had me clenching my fists to keep from pushing the hem to her hips.
Fucking hard as steel and unable to do a damn thing about it.
Want, the beast said, his pupils blown, exaggerating the wild look in his eyes as his hips rocked against the bars.
Fucking unbelievable. Even your imaginary self is out of his fucking mind.
“Could you not destroy that paperwork?” Delilah asked, her eyes glancing down toward my hand. “I need it.”
I looked down to find a stack of stapled papers crumpled up in my hand. “Why is it on my desk if it’s yours?” I snarled at her, my eyes slits as I glared at her.
My anger didn’t stun her, but her expression slipped to the blank look. That fucking blank look that said so fucking much and nothing at all. That blank look I wanted to fuck off of her. Watch her mouth part, her expression soften before scrunching up as she clenched down around me.
Fuck!
She didn’t say anything, just stayed steady under my glare as she held out her hand. I stared at her small, delicate hand and slender fingers, and wondered if she could fist my cock, or if there would be a gap between her thumb and fingers.
I snapped my wrist, throwing them toward her, and moved my attention back to my screen. I could feel her staring at me, probably wondering what was wrong with me, which was something I wanted to know too.
“I’m going to lunch,” I said as I logged out of my computer.
I couldn’t stand to be in that suffocating space with her any longer.
I woke with a start, my eyes wide, drawing in a large, deep breath. Falling down on my side, I attempted to breathe, to force my lungs to fill with air.
My eyes were open, but all I could see was red. The steering wheel off-center. The door was partially gone, and there was a strip of metal in its place. There was blood pouring from my abdomen, from where the metal sliced through me.
Grace.
As my breath calmed, my vision cleared and I stared at the blank, white wall in front of me. It was just a dream, but there seemed to be truth to it. I could feel the weight of her head on my shoulder, could see the car completely crumpled in on her. I didn’t know if the vision was real or a product of my imagination, but it felt real. It felt like a genuine memory.
The problem was, I didn’t have memories past the semi delivering a hefty blow. The next time my mind recorded memory was when I awoke months later from a coma.
A sterile hospital room, completely alone. I couldn’t move, and panic set in, confusion over what the fuck was going on spiking my heart rate and setting off alarms. My mouth was so dry it felt like it was coated in sandpaper. When the nurse came in, eyes wide in surprise, I tried to ask what was going on but was having trouble getting any sound out, let alone forming words. I was able to raise my right hand, tubes strapped to my skin.
“Where’s Grace?” I had asked.
“Who?”
“My wife.”
The nurse’s expression dropped. “I’m so sorry… she didn’t make it.”
The most damaging four words I’d ever heard.
My dream opened the floodgates and memories pouring in, washing over me, drowning me.
Down for months, I missed everything, including seven surgeries to fix my body, and I would need more in the months to come. The doctor came in, but I only caught some of what he said. Tibia and femur displaced fractures, which accounted for the brace. Apparently, I got a knee replacement as well as plates and screws to hold all the broken pieces of bone in my leg together while they healed. Basically, my leg was fucked, and even they weren’t sure if it was going to heal right.
Plates and screws had been placed in my arm. Part of my colon was removed and other sections repaired. There was a nick in my hip bone and my pelvis was out of alignment, but besides needing some chiropractic help, my hips overall were fine. Punctured lung and four broken ribs.
Most of the injuries were reserved for the left side of my body, though my right leg had been dislocated at the hip.
My father told me about the car and how the driver’s side was so smashed in they were surprised I survived. But I knew he was hiding something. Inside, I knew I had died, but he didn’t want to tell me. It was a fact that still haunted me, stared at me every time I looked in a mirror.
I could only nod. “I know, and I’m sorry.”
“Is everything all right?” he asked with more than a hint of concern.
I nodded. “I got lost.”
“Lost?” He quirked his brow, knowing there was no way I meant the path to their home.
“Swallowed up,” I said in clarification.
He regarded me for a moment, then nodded. “How are you now?”
I let out a sigh. “Exhausted.”
I froze at the weight of his hand on my shoulder, loving it while at the same time fearing it. “I know it takes a lot out of you. Thank you for still coming.”
I gave a stiff nod, and we headed down the hallway to the kitchen where my mom’s voice echoed around the room.
“Oh, come on, you silly thing,” she said, trying to get some piece of food to cooperate.
“Hi, Mom.” I leaned down and gave her a kiss on the cheek.
“Nathan.” Her smile was beaming, igniting the guilt. I was an only child, and I’d abandoned my parents for their own safety.
My decisions and actions created a disease that infected everyone I loved, and many others that I knew. I wasn’t fit to be around anyone.
CHAPTER 5
Two fucking weeks of fucking being around Delilah, and I was a fucking madman. The beast was uncontrollable, banging on his cage, trying to force his way out and into her.
I was reduced to nothing more than a monster ruled by my cock.
Every inch of me wanted to be sucked into her pussy, every drop of come splashing inside her.
I hated her. Absolutely fucking loathed her.
It could have been the situation or just the proximity to a pretty pussy, but every five seconds my dick twitched at the thought of bending her over her desk and fucking the shit out of her.
Annoying as fuck, cock teasing woman.
Every day women practically threw their breasts in my face, but the ones I wanted to titty fuck were always conservatively concealed. Somehow, Delilah made conservative sexy. The four-inch heels she wore every day drove me insane, and her skirts just had me clenching my fists to keep from pushing the hem to her hips.
Fucking hard as steel and unable to do a damn thing about it.
Want, the beast said, his pupils blown, exaggerating the wild look in his eyes as his hips rocked against the bars.
Fucking unbelievable. Even your imaginary self is out of his fucking mind.
“Could you not destroy that paperwork?” Delilah asked, her eyes glancing down toward my hand. “I need it.”
I looked down to find a stack of stapled papers crumpled up in my hand. “Why is it on my desk if it’s yours?” I snarled at her, my eyes slits as I glared at her.
My anger didn’t stun her, but her expression slipped to the blank look. That fucking blank look that said so fucking much and nothing at all. That blank look I wanted to fuck off of her. Watch her mouth part, her expression soften before scrunching up as she clenched down around me.
Fuck!
She didn’t say anything, just stayed steady under my glare as she held out her hand. I stared at her small, delicate hand and slender fingers, and wondered if she could fist my cock, or if there would be a gap between her thumb and fingers.
I snapped my wrist, throwing them toward her, and moved my attention back to my screen. I could feel her staring at me, probably wondering what was wrong with me, which was something I wanted to know too.
“I’m going to lunch,” I said as I logged out of my computer.
I couldn’t stand to be in that suffocating space with her any longer.
I woke with a start, my eyes wide, drawing in a large, deep breath. Falling down on my side, I attempted to breathe, to force my lungs to fill with air.
My eyes were open, but all I could see was red. The steering wheel off-center. The door was partially gone, and there was a strip of metal in its place. There was blood pouring from my abdomen, from where the metal sliced through me.
Grace.
As my breath calmed, my vision cleared and I stared at the blank, white wall in front of me. It was just a dream, but there seemed to be truth to it. I could feel the weight of her head on my shoulder, could see the car completely crumpled in on her. I didn’t know if the vision was real or a product of my imagination, but it felt real. It felt like a genuine memory.
The problem was, I didn’t have memories past the semi delivering a hefty blow. The next time my mind recorded memory was when I awoke months later from a coma.
A sterile hospital room, completely alone. I couldn’t move, and panic set in, confusion over what the fuck was going on spiking my heart rate and setting off alarms. My mouth was so dry it felt like it was coated in sandpaper. When the nurse came in, eyes wide in surprise, I tried to ask what was going on but was having trouble getting any sound out, let alone forming words. I was able to raise my right hand, tubes strapped to my skin.
“Where’s Grace?” I had asked.
“Who?”
“My wife.”
The nurse’s expression dropped. “I’m so sorry… she didn’t make it.”
The most damaging four words I’d ever heard.
My dream opened the floodgates and memories pouring in, washing over me, drowning me.
Down for months, I missed everything, including seven surgeries to fix my body, and I would need more in the months to come. The doctor came in, but I only caught some of what he said. Tibia and femur displaced fractures, which accounted for the brace. Apparently, I got a knee replacement as well as plates and screws to hold all the broken pieces of bone in my leg together while they healed. Basically, my leg was fucked, and even they weren’t sure if it was going to heal right.
Plates and screws had been placed in my arm. Part of my colon was removed and other sections repaired. There was a nick in my hip bone and my pelvis was out of alignment, but besides needing some chiropractic help, my hips overall were fine. Punctured lung and four broken ribs.
Most of the injuries were reserved for the left side of my body, though my right leg had been dislocated at the hip.
My father told me about the car and how the driver’s side was so smashed in they were surprised I survived. But I knew he was hiding something. Inside, I knew I had died, but he didn’t want to tell me. It was a fact that still haunted me, stared at me every time I looked in a mirror.
