'Til Death: Volume Two
Page 16
When I get out, I find what seems to be a smokers’ garden. There are people everywhere. I purse my lips, contemplating if this air is any fresher than inside, but I decide it’s cooler out here and find a place to sit. A slow song comes on, pouring through the open doors. I recognize it as “Every Time” by Britney Spears. The words flow out, causing my body to tingle. The words are so close to home.
Couples begin kissing, cuddling and dancing. My heart aches and I stare down at my drink. I’m grateful for the airy, lightheaded feeling I’m experiencing right now, because it’s taking some of the deep hurt from my body for the first time in a long while. I sip my drink some more and look up, freezing.
Marcus.
Not alone.
My vision blurs as I see my husband with his arm around another woman. Well, it’s not exactly around her, but it is resting on her hip and he’s whispering something into her ear. Rage, pain, betrayal and hurt mix deep inside me. He’s not supposed to be doing so well. This isn’t supposed to be so fucking easy for him.
I stand up suddenly, too suddenly, and I fall forward, a result of the alcohol swimming in my system. I brace for my landing, but manage to catch the side of a table before I hit the ground. Glasses smash and people stop what they’re doing to turn and look at me. Tears are running down my cheeks and I want to scream for being so pathetic, so fucking weak.
I lift my gaze and Marcus is staring at me, his mouth slightly gaping. He lets the woman go and turns, striding towards me. I push up, turning quickly, tripping on my heels. I shove out of the garden and rush around the back of the club, pressing my back to a brick wall to catch my breath.
“Katia.”
I turn sharply to see Marcus standing under the dull glow of a streetlight. He’s wearing a tuxedo, and his hair is messy and unkempt, in serious need of a cut. His eyes burn into mine and my throat closes up, tightening with every breath I take.
“How dare you be happy?” I cry, my voice an angry rasp. “How dare you get to feel good? How dare you get a good life while I’m suffering? How dare you fucking look at me like you’re actually sorry? How dare you exist?”
He flinches and steps forward. “I do fucking care. If you’d talk to me—”
“You’d tell me what?” I scream. “You’d tell me I matter, that you made a mistake, that your life has been hell? You’d be wrong, Marcus. You don’t know hell; you’ll never understand hell the way I do. Does that woman in there make it better?”
His eyes grow pained and I want to lunge forward and rip them from their sockets. “She was business.”
“Do you always put your hands on your business associates?”
“Katia, I can’t begin to understand the hurt you are feeling, but I’m hurting too. Maybe not as much, but I am . . .”
“Stop lying.” My voice is a frantic, emotional shriek. “For once in your life, stop fucking lying to me. Just say it, say what it is, and stop hiding behind that insufferable wall of stone.”
His eyes narrow and he steps forward. I step back, pressing my palms to the cool brick wall behind me.
“You want to know what it is? You want to know what I did? I married you to keep my business; I didn’t love you, I didn’t care what happened to you. I used you, I fucked you, and I did all that so I wouldn’t lose what I’ve worked for.”
I make a pained, choking sound, wrapping my fingers around my throat, as if that will stop the hurt delving into my soul.
“You kept pushing.”
“Don’t you dare blame me,” I shout.
He puts a hand up. “You’ve had your chance to have your say, Katia. Now it’s mine.”
I shake my head, disgusted. He just keeps talking.
“You kept pushing, past my bullshit, past the wall, past the hardness. You kept pushing and I found myself feeling. Was it enough to give it all up? No. But it was more than I’d ever felt for any woman.”
He steps closer and my breathing becomes ragged.
“As time went on, I got comfortable. You fit me, you fit my life; we were working. You made me smile, hell—I hadn’t smiled in years. You made me believe there was more to life than business. I fell for you, and before I woke up and realized that, you found the contract and left.”
I shake my head from side to side. He’s lying. He’s only saying this so I’ll go back to him, so I’ll give in and he can use me for something else.
“Stop it,” I shriek, lunging forward. “You’re lying.”
He catches my shoulders, shaking me slightly. “I’m not lying, Katia. I haven’t fucked another woman since you left, and I haven’t wanted to. The only thing I want is you.”
“Liar!” I bellow, lashing out with my hands. I hit him in the jaw and he roars in pain, stepping back. It doesn’t deter him; he lunges forward, catching my wrists this time. I thrash, pulling, kicking and screaming.
He doesn’t love me. He doesn’t want me. He’s lying. He’s a liar. This is what he does. This is who he is.
“I’m not lying,” he grates out. “Fuck, Katia, I want this.”
“No,” I scream.
“Yes.”
I lift my head. “There’s nothing you could say that would make me believe this is real.”
“Not even I love you?”
My knees tremble and my eyes hold his. “You’re sick, Marcus Tandem. Sick.”
Couples begin kissing, cuddling and dancing. My heart aches and I stare down at my drink. I’m grateful for the airy, lightheaded feeling I’m experiencing right now, because it’s taking some of the deep hurt from my body for the first time in a long while. I sip my drink some more and look up, freezing.
Marcus.
Not alone.
My vision blurs as I see my husband with his arm around another woman. Well, it’s not exactly around her, but it is resting on her hip and he’s whispering something into her ear. Rage, pain, betrayal and hurt mix deep inside me. He’s not supposed to be doing so well. This isn’t supposed to be so fucking easy for him.
I stand up suddenly, too suddenly, and I fall forward, a result of the alcohol swimming in my system. I brace for my landing, but manage to catch the side of a table before I hit the ground. Glasses smash and people stop what they’re doing to turn and look at me. Tears are running down my cheeks and I want to scream for being so pathetic, so fucking weak.
I lift my gaze and Marcus is staring at me, his mouth slightly gaping. He lets the woman go and turns, striding towards me. I push up, turning quickly, tripping on my heels. I shove out of the garden and rush around the back of the club, pressing my back to a brick wall to catch my breath.
“Katia.”
I turn sharply to see Marcus standing under the dull glow of a streetlight. He’s wearing a tuxedo, and his hair is messy and unkempt, in serious need of a cut. His eyes burn into mine and my throat closes up, tightening with every breath I take.
“How dare you be happy?” I cry, my voice an angry rasp. “How dare you get to feel good? How dare you get a good life while I’m suffering? How dare you fucking look at me like you’re actually sorry? How dare you exist?”
He flinches and steps forward. “I do fucking care. If you’d talk to me—”
“You’d tell me what?” I scream. “You’d tell me I matter, that you made a mistake, that your life has been hell? You’d be wrong, Marcus. You don’t know hell; you’ll never understand hell the way I do. Does that woman in there make it better?”
His eyes grow pained and I want to lunge forward and rip them from their sockets. “She was business.”
“Do you always put your hands on your business associates?”
“Katia, I can’t begin to understand the hurt you are feeling, but I’m hurting too. Maybe not as much, but I am . . .”
“Stop lying.” My voice is a frantic, emotional shriek. “For once in your life, stop fucking lying to me. Just say it, say what it is, and stop hiding behind that insufferable wall of stone.”
His eyes narrow and he steps forward. I step back, pressing my palms to the cool brick wall behind me.
“You want to know what it is? You want to know what I did? I married you to keep my business; I didn’t love you, I didn’t care what happened to you. I used you, I fucked you, and I did all that so I wouldn’t lose what I’ve worked for.”
I make a pained, choking sound, wrapping my fingers around my throat, as if that will stop the hurt delving into my soul.
“You kept pushing.”
“Don’t you dare blame me,” I shout.
He puts a hand up. “You’ve had your chance to have your say, Katia. Now it’s mine.”
I shake my head, disgusted. He just keeps talking.
“You kept pushing, past my bullshit, past the wall, past the hardness. You kept pushing and I found myself feeling. Was it enough to give it all up? No. But it was more than I’d ever felt for any woman.”
He steps closer and my breathing becomes ragged.
“As time went on, I got comfortable. You fit me, you fit my life; we were working. You made me smile, hell—I hadn’t smiled in years. You made me believe there was more to life than business. I fell for you, and before I woke up and realized that, you found the contract and left.”
I shake my head from side to side. He’s lying. He’s only saying this so I’ll go back to him, so I’ll give in and he can use me for something else.
“Stop it,” I shriek, lunging forward. “You’re lying.”
He catches my shoulders, shaking me slightly. “I’m not lying, Katia. I haven’t fucked another woman since you left, and I haven’t wanted to. The only thing I want is you.”
“Liar!” I bellow, lashing out with my hands. I hit him in the jaw and he roars in pain, stepping back. It doesn’t deter him; he lunges forward, catching my wrists this time. I thrash, pulling, kicking and screaming.
He doesn’t love me. He doesn’t want me. He’s lying. He’s a liar. This is what he does. This is who he is.
“I’m not lying,” he grates out. “Fuck, Katia, I want this.”
“No,” I scream.
“Yes.”
I lift my head. “There’s nothing you could say that would make me believe this is real.”
“Not even I love you?”
My knees tremble and my eyes hold his. “You’re sick, Marcus Tandem. Sick.”
