A Woman Gone Mad (35 page)
Authors: Kimber S. Dawn
Laying my head on her belly, I watch her face, put her hand on mine, and make it run though my hair and over my face, mimicking the way she would comfort me when she knew I was upset. I run her hand over my face for hours with my head on her belly, constantly kissing her open, lax palm, and just watch her face for any sort of reaction. I can’t move until I see her baby blues. I won’t. I’ve let her push me away and hide for far too long, I won’t do it anymore.
I’m here to fight. I’m here to fight beside her. I’m here to fight against her and I’m here to help her fight herself. And I’ll fucking continue to fight for her when she’s weak and tired and ready to give up.
I’ll hold her and fight every last one of these Goddamn demons of hers. And I’ll fight until the day I fucking die.
“Baby,” I whisper as I close my eyes and breathe her in, letting the warmth of her belly and hand seep into my skin and block the chill of fear that keeps trying to sink its claws in. “Baby? Lil? I fuckin’ love you. You hear me, baby? I fuckin’ love you and I’m gonna fix this. Please help me fix us, fix you.”
Her eyes flutter, and I know that I’m too far inside this woman. I’m too far in love with her to ever let her go, to not fight with every fiber of my being to fix her. I’m too far gone to fail at bringing my wife out of her hell and away from her madness.
When she finally opens her eyes and I see the source of my reason for living, I make a vow right then and there to myself—I will go through the depths of hell and fucking fight Satan himself with a damn sword to save my princess and bring her back into the light, like a God damn knight in black shining armor.
My firecracker will get her fuckin’ happily ever after, dammit. Even if I die giving it to her.
“Hey,” she whispers. I cradle her tiny body to me and allow myself to fall apart for what I witnessed tonight, telling her over and over that I’m here and that I’ll never fucking let her go again.
“I gotcha, baby. I gotcha. And I’ll never let go again. Gonna fix you, baby. Swear to God, I’m gonna fix you, angel.” Her arms slide around my neck and I feel her tears run down my chest as her body shake from her sobs.
I gotcha, baby. I gotcha. And I swear I’ll never let you go…
I
killed myself on May 23
rd
, 2016. I passed the point of no return, and once you find yourself there, all alone, it drives you mad. Insanity and evil wait for you in the shadows of madness, and when you are within their reach, they make their move to steal your soul.
Leo saved my soul. He saved my life and he saved my soul. After the hospital doctors deemed me physically healthy, I was admitted into a mental facility against my wishes but at the insistence of my family and my husband and at the referral of my physician.
Leo fought me tooth and nail. He held my hand, and when I shoved him away and screamed at him to die and leave me the fuck alone, he let go of my hand only to grab me up and hold me tightly against him, even while I struggled to get away. He held me until I would exhaust myself. And when I woke up, I was still in his arms. In his arms, covered in bite and claw marks from my fighting. He remained with me no matter how ugly it got. He continued to fight with me, for me.
After weeks of fighting anyone and everyone who tried to fix me, I finally exhausted myself of fighting. And when I realized I hadn’t heard a peep from the voices in my head, I specifically asked Lilith to speak up. I told for her to tell me how much I’d fucked up by making those calls. I taunted her, trying to get her to taunt me…but she wasn’t there. She was gone.
I killed Lilith on May 23
rd
, 2016. And over the next six months, Leo brought me back from the brink of madness. He fought me and everything standing between me and happiness like a man on a mission.
He fought me with passion and anger. He fought me with love and pain. He fought me tired and at his wits’ end, but he never stopped fighting.
And eight months after I was admitted to The Center, he carries me out in his arms with a smile across his face and his chest puffed with pride.
“Look at my baby!” he shouts across the parking lot. “You’re so fuckin’ beautiful today, firecracker, you know that?” His warm hand cups my face as happiness and butterflies surge through my veins and into my heart. He kisses me like he’s starving and he needs me to know it. “God, look at you.” He leans his forehead against mine and pierces my eyes with his. “You ready to go home?”
I nod and can feel the smile on my face all the way to my soul. He opens the door of his SUV with me still in his arms, slides me in, and whispers against my ear, “Fuckin’ love you, baby.” Then shuts the door and jogs around to the driver’s side.
Once he’s in, he lifts the console between us and pulls me to him, draping my legs across his and his arm around my shoulders, keeping me tucked against him on the ride home while the fingers of his right hand play in my hair.
I can’t tell you what the first blow was that pushed me in the wrong direction toward the path my life took to get me here. I can’t tell you because it wasn’t one thing. It was a mountain of things. A mountain of wrongs and shitty hands dealt to me along the way during my life. This madness was brought on by a lifetime of mistakes and pain. Of getting a taste of happiness and perfection only to have it ripped away.
Every heartbreak a woman experiences throughout her life leaves a scar behind, and these scars never fully heal. The thousands of shattered pieces that remain of a woman’s heart are nothing more than battered pieces of scarred tissue that still function as a vital organ to keep her alive.
Amazingly enough, this broken and seemingly wasted part of us also can still feel hope, and it can still love. It can also break a thousand times more and will continue to keep our bodies alive and our soul happy if you have a Leo to fight through the bowels of hell and back for you and you alone.
My happily ever after won’t happen overnight. I still have a long journey ahead of me before I can get there. Or do I? What is a happily ever after anyway? Is it happily ever after because the writer said so? I specifically remember reading Cinderella’s happily ever after and they never mentioned childbirth, stretch marks, graying hair, or wrinkles—not fucking once. The shoe fit and they lived happily ever after. But what about after the shoe fit?
I believe I do have my happily ever after, except mine is a continuing happily ever after. It’s one I have to fight for every day with Leo by my side every step of the way. I would rather wait for my mine, because this story will end with happily ever after when Leo and Lil die old together, wrapped in each other’s arms. You know, just like Noah and Allie.
That’s my Happily Ever After
The End
Play List – Soundtrack for A Woman Gone Mad
• Say Something by A Great Big World ft. Christina Aguilera
• The Monster by Eminem ft. Rihanna
• The Runaways by The Killers
• Momma Told Me Not to Come by Three Dog Night
• Return to Innocence by Enigma
• Angels on the Moon by Thriving Ivory
• Hurricane by Bob Dylan
• Butterfly Kisses by Bob Carlisle
• I’ll Make Love to You by Boyz II Men
• November Rain by Guns N’ Roses
• Slow Ride by Foghat
• Low Rider by War
• Sweet Emotions by Aerosmith
• Breathe by Melissa Etheridge
• I Miss You by Blink 182
• Stay by Shakespeare’s Sister
• Chapel of Love by The Dixie Cups
• Have You Ever Really Loved a Woman by Bryan Adams
• Love Hurts by Nazareth
About the Author
Well, let’s see… what can I tell you about myself? I have a whole lot of hats, meaning I can be called a billon different things—daughter, wife, mother, labor unit nurse. I sell pussy on the side. *coughs* That would be Persian kittens, thank you…you dirty-minded scoundrel. I’m a book blogger, book pimp, and a book whore. My two indulgences are my Jack’s in life…Jack Daniel’s and BlackJack. My biggest dream, the day I’ll acknowledge that I’ve succeeded in life and can I die a happy woman, is the day I get to go two stark-naked hour-round sexual bouts with Jason Statham. *Sighs*
Born and raised in Louisiana… and No, I do NOT live in a bayou, I actually see the beaches on the gulf coast more than I see a bayou, lol. I started writing poems and short stories very early in my life. You know, for the Michaels and Leos and Nicks in my life. I’ve been a book hoarder since I was eleven years old, but then a couple years ago something wonderful happened! The 50 Shades of Grey craze brought to life my inner smut whore and I commenced to read anything and everything smut affiliated. When reading wasn’t enough anymore and I noticed that so many of the authors of my favorite books weren’t getting the exposure their work deserved, I turned it into a mission, starting my own blog, buying their books and reading them one by one. I then wrote my reviews for my blog and didn’t hold back in writing them. I’ve never done a single thing in my life halfway. I always go all in. After the success of my Blog, and the insistence of one of my bestest friends, my sister from another mister, Trina Taylor of Bad & Dirty Books, I was ready to finally take the plunge and write the story that’s been restlessly clawing to get out of my head and onto paper for a VERY long time. I’m a Southern girl to my core, a self-proclaimed smut whore, and I guess now we can add author to my hat collection as well. Tattooed across my ribs are the words I have always lived by: ‘Aut viam inveniam aut faciam tibi.’ Latin for: If I cannot find a way, I will make my own.
To keep in touch and stay in the know about my upcoming works, including Holding Her In Madness: Leo Phillips Story you can follow me on these links:
www.facebook.com/AWGMbyKimberDawn
www.goodreads.com/book/show/18799225-a-woman-gone-mad
www.pinterest.com/KimberSDawn5181/a-woman-gone-mad-by-kimber-s-dawn/
Acknowledgments
First and foremost, I want to thank a friend of mine that is quite possibly one of the very few people in my life to truly know the real me, still love me for who I am, and put up with my crazy ass. Trina Taylor, I wouldn’t be half the person I am today and I for damn sure wouldn’t be typing out my own acknowledgments if it weren’t for you, sister. Every single time I fall, you pick me up from over a thousand miles away. You give yourself over and become my crutch to lean on until it’s time to get back in the game. Then you slap my ass and make me step back up to the plate. You listen to my cries, my drunken self pity parties, or whatever debacle I’ve caused in my life, and you never judge me. You just push me and help build me up stronger. I swear I think you have made it your life’s mission to make sure I WILL have self-confidence, even if you have to shove it down my throat, and I fucking love you for it. You are truly the best friend and sister that I didn’t even realize I needed. And I’ve never even laid my eyes on you or hugged your neck.
I also want to thank the ladies of a FB group who have become my band of sisters. Red Roomers for life! Karina Martinez-Veliz, you smexy Latino bitch, thank you for creating a room that allowed me to find all the smut-whore sisters I came to know and love. Gia Giudo, Janice Baker, Angela Kemble, Crystal Blood, Meagan Gooch, Rebecca Shea, Gracen Miller, Helena Barral, and Teresa Barnum, I love the hell out of y’all bitches! Don’t ever forget that shit! I thank everyone you from the bottom of my heart for being with me on this journey.
Sandy Rizzotto Dipiazza, my feisty Italian Mami, thank you for believing in me and being there to cheer me on! Darcy Villalobos, your words of encouragement pushed me over the finish line. Thank you for making me believe that AWGM was good enough and that people would want to read it.
Melisa Hamling and Jamie Salsbury, I pray I made you two mommas proud. I went into this story guns a-blazing and just typing shit out. Thank you so much for every single pearl of wisdom and critique that helped polish AWGM into a somewhat professional read. I wouldn’t have been able to write even a half-decent story without your help and guidance. Thank you both so very, very much for tucking me under your wing and showing me the right way to write.
I would also like to thank my wonderful friend Mark Davis, who talked me into just sitting down and beginning to type a book instead of another book review. Mark, you are and will always be a dear friend to me, you’ve been there for me more than you’ll ever know, always there to help me smile even in the darkest times, and I thank you so very much.
To my editor Mickey Reed, Thank you so much for cleaning up all my shit and making it look like a professionally written book. Lord knows I could have never done it without you. I <3 you honey!!
