Come To Me (Owned Book 3) (12 page)

“Let me in Lennox,” I demanded, biting down until I felt my jaw tighten and teeth crunch.

“Swallow the demons away, that’s what I always say…” Her voice drifted out, a sing song quality to it. My mind quickly ran through the drugs I had in the medicine cabinet. Klonopin, Xanax…I might even have had Lortab from the time she fell.

Fuck.

I started to run into the door, hoping to break it down. I banged my shoulder against the weak part of the hinges and the door splintered. When I entered, I surveyed the bathroom. Lennox was on the floor, knees catawampus, her head resting on the porcelain tub. She looked so small and childlike.

“What the fuck are you doing?” She shrugged at my question, too high to care. I sighed, tired and over it. I turned back, but I wanted to give one last “Fuck you!” As I readied to slam the bathroom door in my wake, I realized there was no door to slam. For a few seconds I stood frozen in my position, looking at the broken remains of a door I had just broken seconds before. I almost laughed at the ridiculousness, but my chest was still too full. There was nothing left to break in this stupid fucking bathroom. We’d already broken everything.

Spinning around, I turned my attention back to her. “It’s not fucking fair, Lennox. It’s not fair that you take those pills and get to float away while I’m here
dealing
with this shit!” Another song came on that sounded exactly like the first. Lilting with a high voice, I hated it, and I hated that Lenny was letting it inside her. Lenny was The Dead Kennedys and The Cure, not whatever the fuck this shit was.

Lennox shrugged again and smiled a dopy, opium smile. “I don’t care. I’m too happy right now. You can’t take that away from me.”

“Yeah, well you’re going to care.” I stepped over the wood shards until I was at her feet. “You’re going to come down from that high and feel
everything.
You’re going to feel the shame of leaving me alone. You’re going to feel regret. And I might not be here when you do.”

“You’ll always be here Vic,” she said, smiling. All the while that fucking droopy ass song continued to play, like a soundtrack to her high.

“That’s no longer a guarantee Lennox.” I stepped on her phone, my foot colliding with the glass and causing fissures in the screen. Lennox was sitting on the plush of the rug, high as a fucking kite, and if I could break some of her high, I would—even if it meant crushing her phone and killing the song.

“I don’t understand what the problem is…” Twirling the fabric of the shower curtain in her hands, she looked up at me, head cocked, as if her eight-hundred-dollar phone wasn’t sticking to the bottom of my boot. “You
said
you wanted me to take pills.”

“Pills your psychiatrist prescribed, Lenny.” I reached down and pulled her up by the shoulders. “Don’t twist my words.” Holding her in my arms, I wanted to shake her. It was like holding a doll, lifeless and limp.

“Did you know we didn’t even have to drug her?”

“A psychiatrist
did
prescribe them,” she said, chin to her chest. I narrowed my eyes, not buying her shit. She was masterful with words, her intellect sharper than my knives. Some days I wondered why she’d picked a thug like me. Lenny jerked in my grasp, trying to get away.

“Oh no you don’t.” My fingers tightened deeper into her shoulders, but she wiggled harder and I could feel my grip slipping. The slick fabric of her shirt slid against my skin and she almost broke through, so I dug my nails into her shirt until I heard a ripping sound and swung her body around.

Once again I felt like a beast, an animal tearing at its kill as I whirled her tiny frame away from the exit and plopped her on the lip of the tub. With her shirt now tattered just like the rest of the bathroom, she folded her arms, glaring at me.

“You can’t intimidate me,” she said, crossing her legs. “I know your tricks.”

“I’m not trying to intimidate you, fuck!” I groaned, exasperated. She didn’t say anything else and I refused to speak, so we fell into another broken silence. It seemed like the past few months had been nothing but silences and screams. Though her stare was on her thighs, it was obvious her mind was elsewhere.

Fisting my hand until the nails dug deep, I looked around the bathroom. Fractured wood from the splintered door. Her ripped shirt. My bloody body. Shards of glass from the broken phone.

And us.

Water dripped from the sink faucet, the sound amplified in our silence. I thought back to when I was going to fix it, when I was going to fix all the broken things in this stupid house. There was a list somewhere…but that list had been written before, when other, more important things hadn’t started to leak.

“I’m okay now,” Lenny said, looking up at me with no emotion in her face or voice. I felt the way my skin and face pulled together as I thought back to the pills that had been in my cabinet, pills that were probably in her stomach. Some part of me liked having a calm Lenny, and the other part, the part that should care about
why
she was calm, was getting too tired to care.

And that fucking sink kept dripping.

“What did you take?” I asked.

“Does it fucking matter? I’m here. I’m not crying. Explain to me what happened.” She opened her hands to me and just as quickly folded them back up.

I rubbed my chin and said, “I was gonna ask you the same thing.” Pushing herself up off the tub, Lenny crossed the short distance and wrapped herself around me. She hadn’t showered and I could smell the hotel on her, but beneath that layer of grime was Lenny. It made me crazy. It made me want to pound into her and erase whatever filth they’d put on her.

Grinding my teeth, I focused harder on the mirror. I hadn’t showered either and dirt stuck in wrinkles, hardening the lines. I looked scary, gaunt, and hollow. Lenny’s was away from it, her red hair a curtain against her back. My hands hung limply at my sides, but in the reflection I could see Lenny wrap her arms tighter around me. I could see it, but I couldn’t feel it.

“I don’t know,” Lenny answered, resting her head on my shoulder. “One minute I was in bed and the next I’m here.”

“You don’t remember anything?” I watched my mouth move in the mirror.

“I mean there are bits and pieces here and there, but they feel like a bad dream.” I watched as Lenny started to pull away. “I should probably shower.”

“You were kidnapped,” I said to the man in the mirror.

“So the bad guys are real this time?” Lenny laughed, the sound like an echo. Her head fell back and the red shimmered in the mirror, but some spots were dulled by the splotches on the surface. I hadn’t cleaned the mirror in a while, too busy with other, more important dirt. Toothpaste had piled up, fingerprints, you name it. It dulled her. It dulled everything.

Years ago when we’d first met, I’d lied to keep her with me. I’d made up a threat to make her stay with me. There was a twisted irony in the fact that now the threat was real, and she saw it.

Despite the fugue from the drugs…

Despite her constant self-loathing…

Despite all of that, Lenny didn’t miss a single thing.

I grabbed her wrist as she made another move to push past me.

“Let me go, Vic.” Lenny’s voice was tired. “If I’m going to die, I want to be fresh for the funeral.”

I pulled her closer. “Have I ever failed you?” I searched her eyes, wishing to find just that one thing.

Lenny shrugged, eyes still refusing to meet mine. “I
was
just kidnapped.” I felt it snap inside me before anything else, before I heard my growl, and before realizing I’d pushed her against the wall. The painting above us rattled and I covered her just as it fell, knocking into my head and then shattering on the floor in all directions. Her eyes went wide with fear and anticipation. I pushed her against the wall and took her lip between my teeth, biting until I tasted copper.

“Are you alive?” I demanded as I shoved my hand between her pants and underwear. She was wearing some type of elastic legging pajama—having still not changed. The minute my hand went in, it stayed snug, which was just fine, because I wasn’t planning on leaving anytime soon. I gripped her ass with my other hand, holding her in place so she couldn't move. Lenny jumped up, wrapping her legs around my waist.

Using the hand planted firmly on her cunt, I spread her open. She was drenched, soaked. She was always so goddamn wet for me. Even like this, when we were in the midst of a fucking cold war, she was hot and wanting. It drove me crazy.

“How are you always so fucking wet?” I questioned her, pressing my forehead so hard to hers that I heard the plaster behind her head crunch. I didn’t wait for an answer. This wasn’t about lovemaking. This wasn’t about mending fences. That was going to take a lot more than one fucking to fix.

My fingers were now wet with her cunt juices, her breathing hot on my neck. I wish I could tell you that what I did next was about love. That sex between Lenny and I at least had the veneer of love. I think you know us better than that by now. I was pissed, and over the years we’d developed a system of punishment that relied solely on fucking. Driving Lenny mad with pleasure had become my favorite torture. That day she was getting punished, the next it would probably be me. I slammed my ring finger into her ass. She yelped, but I captured the sound with my mouth.

I fingerfucked both her holes until her pants became musical. My pointer finger slid against her slick folds until they reached her clit, circling around it. She shivered against me and tried to move away from the sensation, but I pinned her harder against the wall.

“Oh...” She groaned when I upped my pace, going in and out of her holes. Hands gripped my shoulders so hard they would surely leave marks, head undulated against the wall as if she could escape the torture. I stretched her cunt with another finger, and that did her in. Her scream escaped her in a long, anguishing wail that matched the quivers of her cunt.

And then there was silence.

“Are you alive?” I repeated, twerking my fingers inside her.

“Yes!” She gasped. Satisfied, I pulled out immediately and stepped back. She fell to the ground, looking up at me wide eyed. Even though all I wanted to do was pick her up, I affected a cold demeanor.

“That was a reminder, Lenny,” I said, wiping her off on my shirt. “Don’t forget again.”

Lenny stood up and shoved by me. “Fuck you! As if I could ever forget. As if you would ever
let
me!” I opened my mouth to respond when she said, “You’re a bastard, Vic.”

“Tell me something I don’t know, like why you’re such a fucking pill head.”

“Because it’s not safe here.” Lenny thrust wildly around the bathroom, but I knew she wasn’t talking about the goddamn tub and toilet. “And it’s not safe in here.” Lenny pointed to her skull, shoving so hard against the skin it bent back the finger. After a few seconds she left and I heard the guest bedroom door slam. I let her words settle like ashes from a fire, the meaning behind them burning holes in my gut.

W
hat little friends I had, what small family existed, had been made to scatter like ants. Because of me. Lenny was holed up in the cabin refusing to speak to me and I really couldn’t blame her. Grace and Eli were long gone, hopefully miles away, as were Lissie and Zoe. If everything went according to plan, Lenny and I would disappear as well.

I should have known nothing ever went to plan.

When I woke the door was locked and Lenny still refused to speak to me. I knocked, but only silence followed. Part of me wanted to break through and force it, but that’s what I’d done the day before. Instead I stared at the wood separating and then told her I was going to get some breakfast. If she wanted space, then I was going to give her space.

If she wanted to get high, then I wasn’t going to be around to watch.

Earlier in the morning, I’d ambled around town. I walked by a house, thinking nothing of it at first, but then I saw the vinyl letters: Addiction and Recovery. I paused, then walked backward, drink in hand. I’d probably been outside the goddamn purple painted place for an hour before a woman walked out and started to talk to me. I glared, thinking it would get her to fuck off.

It didn’t.

“Can I help you?” she’d asked.

“No,” I responded, but I still didn’t move. She kept a smile on her face the same way others kept a gun in their jacket. After a few minutes, where neither of us moved, I finally spoke.

“So, can you just walk in or what?”

“Well, not here, but other places, sure.”

“How long does it take?”

“Well, there’s inpatient and outpatient. It depends.”

“Just give me an answer.”

Her smile wavered. “A month, maybe two.” I walked away without a goodbye, thinking about Lennox. It was no secret I’d driven her to pills, and now I was driving her further away from help. There would be no rehab where we were going, and as much as I liked to get on her about taking her meds, there would be no psychiatrists.

Now I walked the streets of the small California town, coffee in hand, pondering my shit-uation. Seven’s words drummed in my skull like a gypsy’s warning, his laugh like a funeral song. A day later, I still couldn’t make sense of them.