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For the Love of Layla

callie moss
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 Copyright © 2022 by Callie Moss

All rights reserved.

No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without written

permission from the publisher or author, except as permitted by U.S. copyright
law.

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 Contents

Disclaimer

. Chapter
Courtesy Warning

1. Outside Looking In

2. Warning Signs

3. Worst First Date Ever

4. Losing Focus

5. I've Missed You

6. Little Star

7. A Lingering Suspicion

8. Unfortunate Memories

9. The Gala

10. Red Handed

11. An Obvious Mistake

12. A Little Push

13. Paranoid

14. I’m Not Okay

15. Vengeance

16. Prisoner

17. I Love You

18. Insanity

19. The Ghost of You

Epilogue: For the Love of Liam

. Chapter

Meet the Author

More from Callie

. Chapter

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 Disclaimer

T his is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events,

real people, or real places are used fictitiously. Other names,
characters, places, incidents, and events are the product of
the author’s imagination and any resemblance to actual
persons, living or dead, businesses, establishments, events,
or locales is entirely coincidental.

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T here’s like a lot of sexy fucked up shit in here. So, if you’re
into that, this is dedicated to you. If you’re not… for the love
of God, do not read this.

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 Courtesy Warning

For a detailed list of the potentially upsetting themes in this

book, please check out the content warnings tab on my
author website: www.authorcalliemoss.com

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 Tonight You Belong to Me by Patience & Prudence
Thud!
“Fuck.” I curse under my breath as the flathead screwdriver
tumbles to the balcony floor, taking with it my hope of
getting into the house. The bedroom light flicks on as
Peaches runs up to the sliding glass door, canines barred
and growling. I jerk it up quickly before I vault over the
ledge of the balcony. Barely lowering myself out of sight as
the door unlocks and slides open. My heart hurls itself into
my throat at our proximity, my skin heating and prickling in
an all-encompassing way, my sweet Layla. I hear her
footsteps creaking along the worn and faded white wooden
boards as I dangle two stories up. My gloved hands straining
to hold on to the ledge.
I need to get back to the gym, I’ve been so caught up in
my…. Extracurricular activities I diverged from my routine.
“Hello?” Her sweet voice wraps itself around me, bringing a
smile to my face despite the circumstances. I pull myself up
slightly, just enough to see her.
I have to see her.
My good mood is immediately diminished by the realization
that she just marched her cute little ass out here at the first
sign of danger.
What if some strange man was out here, lying in wait for
you?
Blistering hot anger bubbles up in my chest at the thought
of anyone but me putting their hands on her soft skin.
Gripping the gentle slope of her neck. It seems lately anger
has been my primary setting. She’s destroyed everything.
Our life, love, my fucking sanity
I miss you, little star.
I can hear the heavy fall of dog paws as Peaches pads
along, walking straight up to me. Tail going a mile a minute,
I shake my head, desperately motioning for her to go. “What
is it, girl?” Layla calls out, her footsteps growing
dangerously close. I stop breathing all together, letting go
with one hand before reaching up and lightly flicking our
dog in the nose.
Sorry girl, your mom would flip if she saw me.
Peaches sneezes in protest, backing up until she bumps into
Layla, knocking her down, “Christ Peaches! Get inside.”
Peaches whines in protest, no doubt glancing back my way
before trotting back through the door.
I trained her well, always on guard for Layla.
I know it’s not right, training a dog to be aggressive towards
any man but me, but the ends justify the means. Layla is
mine. My little star, my only fucking love. The reason my
chest rises and falls. Why my eyes open every morning and
my heart forces blood through my veins. It’s all for her. Her
forgetting that fact could force me to do something horrible,
something we would never come back from. An overly
territorial one hundred- and twenty-two-pound bullmastiff is
an effective failsafe.
My muscles strain as I lift myself up, peeking underneath
the railing to see Layla run her hands down her beautiful
face. Her legs spread apart, knees slightly bent inwards,
exposing her panty clad sex. My mouth waters as I stare at
the indent of her folds, pressed tight against the fabric of
her underwear. My cock hardens despite my screaming
muscles as she stands. The bottom of her ass showing
slightly underneath the oversized t-shirt she’s wearing.
You know better than to walk outside wearing shit like that,
Layla.
I don’t pull myself up all the way until I hear the door latch
lingering off to the side of the sliding glass door until the
bedroom light shuts off as well, plunging the house into
darkness.
That was close.
I crack my neck, stretching out my arms and groaning
slightly as I note how sore they are.
The things I’ll do for you, little star…
I'll wait another half hour before I try to slip in again,
relaxing on the balcony. Pretending this was just a normal
night, like she didn’t rip my heart from my chest and cast
me away the moment I let myself slip. Let myself feel too
much, too suddenly.
She’s so beautiful. I had no choice but to fall so dangerously
deep into her orbit.
If I’m being honest with myself, something I’m making a
point to do more of. Honesty is the best policy and all that.
I’ve always had a habit of fixating. Granted, that always
worked to my advantage. My attention to detail is in part
what made me so successful. When I met my little star, I
unknowingly turned that neurotic part of myself on her.
She consumed me. I would have it no other way.

I slip out of her bed gently, trying not to wake her as I bend
pressing my lips to her forehead. She’s such a light sleeper,
my little star. I let them linger there longer than I need to,
inhaling her chamomile scent. She moans softly as I brush
her curly ash brown hair from her delicate face.
“My Layla.”
I head out of the bedroom, unable to stop from pausing at
the doorway. Her fair skin looks so much lighter wrapped in
the light gray sheets, clinging to her mesmeric body. I smirk
to myself, reaching down and petting Peaches as I slide
open the glass doors heading onto the old porch…

Buzz, buzz, buzz.

I sit up abruptly, jerking my phone from the pocket of my
dark jeans.
Fuck, I fell asleep.
I decline Brandon’s call, I’ll talk to him later. He’s probably
wondering why I’m not at the office yet. The office will just
have to wait. Things can move along just fine without me if
need be. He’s more than capable of leading the meetings.
Layla is off work today, which means she’ll be asleep well
into the afternoon. My girl is always exhausted, thanks to
her incessant need to stay up as late as possible every
night, so worried she’ll miss out on something. The fact that
she kept her job at all after that day has me clenching and
unclenching my fists. She can do so much better than that
place. I opened up countless other positions for her and she
turned it down.
Stubborn, stubborn, little star.
Four Months Ago, Liam
I barge into the lobby of Blinked, biting down on my inner
cheek until copper mixes with the taste of her in my mouth.
Clinging to the last shred of rational thinking like a fucking
life preserver. At least for the time being, until I get in there.
Until I get my hands on him. I could barely sleep last night.
Layla was already so upset, then she had to spend most of
her night trying to calm me down as I paced back and forth
through the halls of the penthouse.
I lost my cool in front of her, but she never turned away
from me. Never looked put off or angry at me for my
actions. Even after I punched holes through the drywall and
trashed the place. The way she gripped my waist in a death
hold, clinging to me for dear life, willing me to come back
down to her. Before she pleaded…for him.
I own his pompous ass, and he thinks I’ll let this fucking
slide? I’ve ignored how he calls her into work past hours,
making her finish projects days, even weeks in advance on
his little man power trip. Taking up all her time when it
should be spent with me. I’ve ignored it all, because Layla
asked me to.
Not this. Never fucking this.
The receptionist jumps as she catches sight of me, “Mr.
Curran! I didn’t know you’d be in today. We just got off the
phone with your assistant, she said Layla wasn’t coming in.”
I ignore her completely, barely able to stop myself from
curling my lips up in disgust at the way the platinum blonde
pushes her comically large tits up when any well-dressed
man enters the room.
My company bought out Blinked Magazine along with a
dozen other businesses in this building. That’s how I met
her. My sweet Layla, the woman that has changed my life
just in six short months.
I storm past the hall of cramped offices heading straight to
Samuel Danvers’ oversized one, a physical representation of
his over-inflated ego. I don’t bother knocking as I throw
open the door. Men like me don’t have to knock. Spiders
don’t announce themselves before they devour the
cockroaches caught in their webs. Danvers jumps, his phone
clenched in his grubby fingers as his face goes beat red with
anger. Recognition passes over his features as he realizes
who I am. I watch as he clenches his jaw, fighting the urge
to order me from his office.
You could try.
The receptionist I never bothered getting the name of
rushes in behind me, “I’m so sorry Mr. Danvers, I didn’t
know he was coming in here!” Her high-pitched voice is like
nails on chalkboard. For a moment I wonder what sound she
would make if I cut her tongue from her mouth all together.
No, she’s probably just scared of whatever shitty,
monotonous task he’ll stick her with, punishing her for
letting me past.
Both of them utterly oblivious to my intentions, to the
fucked up nature of my thoughts. As most people are, it’s
easy enough to hide the way my mind works. Until Layla,
she strips me bare in all the most horrible and beautiful
ways. I’ll be dammed if I’m ever put back together again. If
this is the way she wants me, bare I’ll be.
“I’ll have to call you back.” He mutters into the phone
before placing it on his desk, “It’s quite alright Olivia, close
the door on your way out.” The glare he shoots her doesn’t
match the words leaving his mouth, as they rarely do with
his particular brand of gutter rat.
It’s most certainly not alright Danvers.
I don’t take my eyes off him as I walk to the edge of his
desk, leaning over it, my face inches from his. I can smell
the burnt coffee and cheap cigarettes on his breath. “Do you
know why I’m here, Samuel?” My casual use of his first
name is intentional. Stripping him of his power only fuels his
fire.
Good, this would bore me otherwise.
“I haven’t the slightest clue what would be so pressing
you’d need to barge in here like the building was on fire.”
His buttery face prickles, a thin layer of sweat forming on
his fetid skin. I don’t speak, no real need to. He knows why
I’m here. Not speaking when someone gives you an
unsatisfactory answer can have more impact than words.
One of the few valuable lessons I learned from mother. The
woman wielded her attention, her silence like a weapon.
He shifts uncomfortably in his seat, before sighing, “Look, I
don’t know what she said to you, but you know how women
like that are. Always throwing their blown-out pussies at
men in power. She practically begged me to touch her with
all those little skin tight skirts she wears.”
She begged you to?
My anger detonates, jerking my head back and sending it
forward into his face, head-butting him so hard he grunts
falling back into his chair. I barely feel the sharp pain that
splays across my forehead. “She begged you to fucking
touch her? That’s the story you want to go with?”
He leans forward, his mushroom nose cracked to the side,
dripping blood onto the papers strewn around his desk. I
don’t give him time to answer before I grab the back of his
head, slamming it into his desk so hard the sturdy
mahogany colored wood groans.
“She didn’t ask for shit!” Slam!
“Nobody fucking touches her!” Slam!
“She’s mine!” Slam!
“Mine!”
He groans weakly as I release his head. A tooth popping
loose and sliding across the desk on the last impact. It’s not
enough, nowhere near enough.
My Layla… She’s mine. The thought of his hands on her…
He lets his head slump to the desk, his hands flat on either
side of his head, “All this over a whore?” He gurgles, spitting
blood from his mouth.
Bad move.
A growl forms deep in my chest as I grab the gold letter
opener from his desk, “Watch your fucking mouth!” I yell, as
I stab it through the back of his right hand making him
scream like a dying chimp. He tries to pull his hand from the
desk but it’s pinned there, the letter opener going all the
way through and deep into the wood.
She’s mine.
I reassure myself for the millionth time since last night. All
mine. He moans in pain as I grip the letter opener, wiggling
it back and forth in the same hand that touched her. Nobody
is here, so I don’t hide how much I’m enjoying this. As the
flesh peels back around the dull blade, he cries out weakly.
A smile falls on my face as I reach forward, pulling up the
side of his muddled mouth into a smile to match mine.
Bending until I’m eye level with the fuck, “I think Layla
would agree this is quite the improvement from what you
had before. What will your wife think Samuel…should I ask
her myself?” He whimpers. Dare I say a tear falls from his
swelling eyes, streaking through the blood there. “Should I
bust her head-“
My head snaps up as the door opens, “Mr. Danvers, I got
the-” My heart stops as Layla takes in the scene in front of
her, her amber-colored eyes twisting in horror.
I told you to stay home today, disobedient little star.
“Oh, my god! Oh my god, Liam. What the fuck have you
done?” She shouts as she drops the booklets in her hands.
Frantic as she goes to his side, taking the extensive damage
I’ve done to his face. Her hands hovering above him, unsure
what’s safe to touch. Her concern for him only adds to my
foul mood. You shouldn’t fucking care. They aren’t the right
words, but they come anyway as heat bubbles in my chest,
“Why the fuck do you care?”
The way she looks at me makes my stomach roll, twisting
into knots. I take a deep breath, “Baby, I told you there
would be consequences for his actions.”
Her mouth drops open as he wheezes, “Call for help…” She
reaches for his phone, whimpering when she realizes it’s
covered in blood just like the rest of his desk.
“I thought you meant you’d fire him, not try to kill him!” She
snaps.
Fucking hell, this went south fast.

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L ayla
I bring the coffee cup to my lips, not bothering to check the
temperature before taking a sip.
Fuck! There goes tasting my breakfast.
“See, that’s why iced coffee is superior.” Ava mutters,
dramatically sipping her iced chai tea latte. She always
orders the same thing, then complains because she never
tries anything new. I roll my eyes before glancing over to the
counter, my stomach rumbling in protest at the lack of food.
That’s what you get for skipping dinner.
I sigh, this cafe is always busy despite it being a mom and
pop shop. Self-proclaimed whole in the wall. Ava and I
happened by it the night I met him . I was so frazzled and
worked up by the enigmatic man who bought the magazine
I write for I practically floated to our table. I still haven’t
decided if twisting my ankle that day was the best or worst
thing that ever happened to me.
Six Months Ago, Layla
I look up from my computer screen for the first time in three
hours. My neck aches and my eyes strain to adjust to the
lighting in the room. Black and purple circles dance around
my field of vision. Why do your eyes do that? Is it only
mine? A blip of anxiety sweeps across my chest, and I do
my best to assure myself it’s normal and I’m probably fine.
Mr. Danvers insisted I work at the ultra cramped secondary
desk in his office today. “Because my last article was pitiful”
I now have to run everything by him.
Cocksucker.
Like writing paragraph long captions under the asinine ill-
informed quoted opinions of Instagram influencers requires
literary genius. You know ultra-rich one percent assholes
always have very groundbreaking stances on the rate of
homelessness among LGBTQ+ youth in the city. They don’t
fucking care, not in any genuine sense. Certainly don’t see
any donations coming in for the charities I list at the bottom
of the articles.
Less of your opinions and more of theirs, Layla.
I remind myself for the hundredth time today that many
people would kill for my position, even if it wasn’t what I had
in mind for myself.
Oliva knocks lightly before entering, “Sir, Mr. Curran is here
to discuss the-”
He cuts her off, raising a hand, not bothering to
acknowledge her further. She presses her overdrawn lips
together tightly before walking back out.
Maybe I should try to do that with my makeup. My lips could
be a bit bigger. I’d need lip liner, but that requires going to a
store…in person.
“Out.” He barks, and I’m grateful he missed the way I
flinched. Barely looking up until I stand. Then, making direct
eye contact with my ass that’s hugged tightly in my pencil
skirt, the deep violet top I have on today is more modest
than I would like. Sleeveless with a jewel neckline, but I
can’t stand his eyes on me all day long, like I’m a piece of
meat he’s ready to chew on. I close my laptop, standing
quickly, desperate not to piss him off today. Not that it
matters. I have first rights to the top of his shit list every
day of the week. I ignore the wobbly feeling in my legs and
lightness in my head as I scurry out of his office.
Today is a big day. Blinked was bought out by Curran
Enterprises nearly a week ago. Danvers has been an even
more unreasonable swine, making my job as a writer
underneath his sausage thumb hell on fucking earth. Today
decides if we’re going to be dissolved or allowed to
continue, he’s meeting with the head of the company.
Despite Danvers being a dickbag, I do like my job.
Furthermore, I need it. When grandpa left me the large
three-story farmhouse in his estate, I was honored to inherit
the place I grew up in. Every fond memory I have lives in
those walls, curated by that man. Although I had no idea
how fucking expensive old houses were. Like, stupidly
expensive.
Why in the fuck is the shelf life of a shingled roof only
twenty-five years? Making the current roof of the farm about
forty-five years overdue for an upgrade and it shows by the
ever damp and slightly moldy attic.
A sharp pain flares in my left ankle, it twists in my heel,
jerking sideways as I crumple to the floor. My knees
scraping against the acid washed concrete floors.
“Fucking hell.” I groan. My cheeks heating as I look around,
praying to whatever higher power nobody saw me eat shit
in the hall. That’s when my gaze meets his. His ocean eyes
deep set in his face, punctuated by thick copper toned
eyebrows that are currently arched in amusement.
“Are you alright?” His husky voice takes me by surprise as I
bite down on my bottom lip, the pain in my ankle
momentarily forgotten. I nod as he reaches out his hand.
Glancing at it tentatively before I place my small one in his.
His grasp is strong and soft all at the same time. It’s so
warm, he looks every bit a ginger headed God. I wonder
what these hands would feel on my-
“Layla, what in Christ’s name?” Mr. Danvers’ voice booms
down the hall, making me jump, everything in me
screaming cry and run away. A completely nonsensical
reaction, I’m aware.
The man’s eyebrows knit together, doing nothing to dampen
the impossibly attractive angular planes of his face. His
frown deepens and suddenly I feel overexposed, like I’m
stuck under a microscope. Those blue eyes unrelenting
against mine, only making me feel even more fucking
embarrassed.
Grow up, Layla adults can handle a little yelling.
“I apologize for her, Mr. Curran.” Oliva pipes in. I didn’t even
see her there.
Mr. Curran…. oh, fucking fuckity fuck.
He helps pull me to my feet as I brace myself on the wall,
my mind racing as I imagine all the humiliating ways
Danvers is about to fire me in front of his insanely hot new
boss. Mr. Curran bends, grabbing my battered laptop which
seems to have fared even worse than me in the fall.
“Thank-” I stop short as soon as I put weight on my ankle,
wincing in pain.
“It’s already swelling.” He says, his eyes are so intense, so
scrutinizing I feel even smaller than I am. Which is saying a
lot at a whopping five foot four inches.
“I’m fine, really. Thank you, Mr. Curran. I’m sorry, that
wasn’t much of a greeting.” He smiles at me, flashing a row
of perfectly straight white teeth before chuckling. The sound
does weird things to my chest. If this is the standard for
attractiveness, we’re all fucked.
“Actually, it’s the most intriguing greeting I’ve received in a
while.” I smile back shyly, feeling like a giddy fucking child.
Oliva scoffs, touching his arm lightly as he hands me my
battered laptop.
He jerks his arm away from her as if she’s garlic and he’s a
newborn vampire. She frowns, her eyes widening for half a
second, not used to rejection, “I’ll show you to Mr. Danvers’
office.”
I look back at my boss, his pudgy face red as he taps his
foot impatiently, as if me hurting myself is an awful
inconvenience to him. I don’t even mean to when I roll my
eyes. The man is a walking caricature. My heart lurches in
my chest as I notice Mr. Curran caught me, only making his
eyes light with amusement. A secretive smirk lining his
lightly freckled face.
I worry my lip as he half turns to Oliva, “Help her to a break
room and get her some ice. She needs to stay off her
ankle.” He orders. The finality in his voice floods my belly
with heat.
I’m right here, dude.
He nods to me, lingering for a fat minute until its verging on
awkward. Oliva breaks the weird tension, gripping my
forearm, pulling me towards my cubicle. Offering little to no
support as I hobble very unsexy goblin beside her. Her long
neon pink acrylics poking into my flesh.
“Black or blue?” Ava asks, shoving her phone in my face.
Oblivious to the fact that I’ve been totally zoned out for God
knows how long. I look at the two dresses as she swipes
back and forth, “Definitely blue.”
She frowns, pulling her phone back, her short charcoal hair
blowing lightly in the breeze. Ava has always been naturally
pretty. So effortlessly so it makes my chest hurt when I look
at my best friend. I don’t think I’ve ever seen her wear an
ounce of makeup. She’s never needed it. Her brown doe
eyes scan the screen, displeased with my answer.
“For fuck’s sake Ava, why ask me if you never like my
answer?” I grumble, my mouth watering as the waiter
approaches with our food.
Fuck yes.
“It’s part of my creative process. I’m trying to get laid
tonight. This outing is far from casual, the blue is casual. It
doesn’t scream rail me in your parents’ bed .”
I smile up at the waiter as he carefully sits down my sunny
side up eggs and toast. Steam rolling off the bacon beside it
and I’m already gearing up to scald my mouth again.
“Thank you.”
“No problem.” His shoulder-length blonde hair falls into his
face as he flashes me a loaded smile. I wish I felt something.
I haven’t even been interested in anyone else since I broke
things off with Liam.
My heart drops at the thought of him, I wish I didn’t miss
him. The side of him I saw that day…I mean, I knew what he
was like when he got upset, but I’d never seen him direct
that on another person before.
I shiver as Ava breaks me from my thoughts, “He was
looking, looking at you.”
I halfheartedly chuckle, “Yeah, I noticed.”
She scoffs, “Pretty sure everyone noticed. Get his number!
You haven’t been with anyone since the billionaire psycho.”
She stuffs a bite of French toast into her mouth as she
shakes her head.
I ignore the comment, taking another good look at the
waiter. He’s built like a damn linebacker; you can tell he
works out a lot. His green eyes meet mine as he smirks,
turning back to wiping the counter. Not much for subtlety.
Men that know they’re hot are usually obnoxious about it.
Which is definitely not hot.
“See Lay! Fuck him, right now. I gave you your getting laid
homework three months ago and still nothing.”
She’s so interested in people’s sex lives; Ava is all about
free love. Which is fine, I’m far from a prude but I’ve always
lacked her confidence. Especially after him.
“I haven’t gotten a single match on Tinder, not one.” I muse,
shoving a bite into my mouth. Ignoring how the truth behind
that statement stings.
God, I love food. Yeah, think about food and not how
undesirable you are.
She abruptly swallows “Bullshit!”
I wish it was bullshit, I haven’t even gotten a reply from the
people I’ve contacted. I’d be lying if I said my confidence
hadn’t taken a hit. I’m not ugly I know that, men have
always stared at me. I used to kind of enjoy the attention
until Mr. Danvers took it too far on a daily basis. Until it
would set Liam off, in the weird inward way it did. Like he
was in a constant struggle to contain it all. I didn’t think he
was like that at first, but I think he just… hid it better. It
wasn’t a slow build either. Like one day he woke up and
flipped a switch. Ava says it was always there, in the way his
eyes followed me, always putting himself at my side.
Lingering, watching. I put up with it all, his irrational
jealousy. The way he liked to control my every move in the
enduring roundabout way he did it. There was an odd and
wonderful intensity I came to expect with Liam. I didn’t mind
it, not at all. It was actually nice the way he fixated on me.
His attention to detail was always something I admired
about him. Something I had never experienced before, and
never will again.
He made me feel special. Like only I existed to him.
“Stop it Lay. Right now!” Ava orders, flicking a spoon of
whipped cream at me. It lands on my chin, slopping down
onto my chest.
I look at her, gesturing vaguely at my breasts as she laughs
at herself, “You need to stop thinking about him! Move on,
it’s been months seriously.” I nod, looking around to make
sure the coast is clear before I tug down my low-cut top,
exposing the black lace of my bra as I dip a napkin in my
water, wiping at the mess. After I finish cleaning myself, I
look up again. The waiter meets my eyes, raising a sculpted
blonde eyebrow, plucked more effectively than mine. A
small smirk draws across my lips. I can feel my cheeks
reddening and I may or may not take my time fixing my top.
My phone vibrates loudly on the table, pulling my attention
from him. I glance over at Ava who is nose deep in her
phone again before I pick up mine. Liam never wanted us to
have our phones while we ate, which I didn’t mind. It feels
weird still, after these past months alone. Adjusting to life
without him, slowly realizing how odd his behavior was.
Even if it worked for me for the most part, I can
acknowledge how far from normal he was. Or as Ava puts it,
creepy, obsessive and toxic.
I unlock my phone. My heart races as I read the words on
the screen, trying to tilt the phone away from the glare of
the window we’re seated against.
Unknown: Keep your eyes to yourself.
I frown, quickly locking my phone and looking around me. I
don’t honestly know what for. Nobody is staring our way,
nobody I recognize is here at all. I look over at Ava, still
blissfully staring at her phone.
“Hey, did you text me?”
She lowers her screen, narrowing her eyes at me. Probably
picking up on the anxiety in my voice. I’ve never been good
at hiding that part of me, not that I need to hide it from her.
Another lovely personality trait I can thank my father for.
“No? Why?”
I shake my head, “Bot message probably.” I don’t know why
I say that the explanation seems weak even to me. She
shrugs as she downs the last of her iced coffee, “Okay, my
lunch break was over ten minutes ago.”
I chuckle, shaking my head at her. She does real estate,
she’s so damn good at it too. Her bosses practically worship
the ground she walks on.
She waves the waiter over for our bill, insisting on paying
like always. I don’t put up too much of a fight this time,
knowing she’s charging it to her company card. She hands
the waiter the card, his eyes glued to me, “You know my
band is playing at the Moonwalk Lounge tonight, if you two
were interested in stopping by.”
Ava looks at me, comically mouthing he’s in a band, “What
time?” She asks, turning back to him with a flip of her hair,
not giving me a chance to back out of my casual flirting
from earlier. I can’t help but smile as his face lights up, “We
start at seven. My name is James, by the way.”
“Well James, we’ll be there. This is Layla and my name is
Ava.” His eyes meet mine, “Pretty name.” Nodding and
smirking as he heads off to get our receipt. Butterflies fill my
stomach for the first time in months as I meet Ava’s hopeful
eyes.
“Rebound sex.” She sings softly to the tune of Birthday Sex
as she gets her things together. I wad up my napkin,
throwing it at her face, “We’re going to watch his band, that
hardly means I’m going to fuck the guy.”
“You’re gonna get your cheeks clapped.” She continues
singing. I shoot her daggers, willing her to shut up as he
walks back with her card. She laughs, “See you tonight,
James.”
“Can’t wait.” He winks at me before a lady from behind the
counter calls him back. I watch him longer than necessary
as he walks away, his thick muscular arms straining against
his white long-sleeved t-shirt that looks intentionally too
small for him. The equally as large muscles in his back
rippling as he moves.
“No driving there. We’re taking Ubers so we can get fucked
up. It’s been forever since we had a girl’s night.” She whines
as we walk back out to my car. The cool fall breeze whips
my long unruly curls into my face. That’s going to be a bitch
to work through later.
“You’re being dramatic. It’s been two weeks tops. Could’ve
been sooner if you weren’t getting dicked down every
night.”
She gasps as we make it to my car, “Slut shaming in 2022?”
“Not slut shaming, Ava shaming.”
She laughs, giving me a kiss on the cheek before she heads
down the busy sidewalk to her office. Her heels clacking
against the pavement as leaves blow around underneath
her wide legged pants. I look away as she rounds the
corner, waiting for traffic to slow before I brave the busy
street to reach the divers side door. My heart stops in my
chest as a black Cadillac passes me, my eyes falling on the
man seated in the driver’s seat for the first time in months. I
stop breathing as he passes, his eyes trained on the road.
I’m simultaneously grateful and resentful of the fact.
Why today of all days for fucks sake?
A deep ache fills my chest as I scramble inside my car.
Seeing him shouldn’t affect me like this, not after all this
time. My hands shake as I grip the steering wheel tightly. I
don’t know why I’m feeling this way; I didn’t cry when I
broke it off with him. Not for the first few weeks. It was okay,
freeing even. It didn’t hurt until the littlest things started to
make me think of him. How well he complimented my
everyday life. Providing the affection I craved and then
some. I take a deep breath as I start the car, blinking away
the treacherous water in my eyes. Burning Pile by Mother
Mother filling the suffocating, quiet space as I pull from the
curb. Jumping when the car waiting for my parking spot
behind me honks in protest.
Burning Pile by Mother Mother

As I walk into my house, the ball of dread and anxiety filling

my chest doubles down on itself, expanding until it’s a being
of its own. Walking alongside me in a place that’s brought
me nothing but comfort before. It’s dark, too dark despite it
being the middle of the day. My heels clack down the short
hall in the entryway, poking my head around the wall of the
living room. My heart thumps loudly in my chest, making my
pulse race.
“Peaches, come here girl!” My small voice bounces off the
deep green leafy wallpaper. The thick white blackout
curtains are pulled over the large floor to ceiling arch
windows. My mind races with all the worst possible
outcomes that I have zero bases for thinking might happen
as a shiver runs down my spine. Slowly retracing my steps
from this morning in my head. I know I didn’t close the
curtains. The natural light from the tall double-paned
windows is one of my favorite things about the old house. I
don’t even close them at night, something Liam used to
hate. Citing it as an open invitation for peeping Tom’s
despite the place being a good twenty-minute drive from
the neighbors. Peaches clomps up to me, her tan tail
wagging excitedly as she nudges my leg. No way in hell
anyone could get in the house without her tearing them to
shit. “Anything you need to tell me?” I ask her, rubbing her
enormous head. She looks up at me with her brown puppy
eyes before heading over to the back door. Telling me she
wants out; I sigh, shaking my head hoping I can work loose
the unease. Seeing him must’ve fucked with my anxiety as
most things do. Yay for me. I’ve always struggled to keep it
in check. Between my refusal to take my prescriptions for it
and constant caffeine intake it’s not out of the realm of
possibility that I’ve worked myself up.
Just breathe. You’re perfectly safe here with Peaches. If
you’re not grandpa’s guns are just a few doors away.
I open the back door watching as Peaches’ large frame
bounds down the steps doing excited circles in the yard
before she catches sight of an animal in the wood line
darting towards it. “Peaches, no!” I yell, rushing down the
stairs. She stops a little way in, the lightness of her fur only
barely visible. It would be all too easy for a hunter to
mistake her for a deer, especially this time of year. The
thought of her getting hurt makes my chest ache, the way it
often does these days. If it wasn’t for her being here, I don’t
know what I would do.
Set up camp outside your therapist’s office. Cry a lot. Lose
yourself to the abyss. The last one might be a bit
melodramatic.
Her eyes stay on the woods, her tail wagging excitedly.
“Come!” Her oversized head snaps towards me as she
reluctantly heads in my direction. Last time she got away
from me, it took Liam and me hours to find her in the thick
forest. As much as I love my dog, the fact that she was a gift
from my ex doesn’t help the whole moving on thing. That’s
what tonight is for, right? It’s been months and all of this
still feels so…wrong. Like Liam fucked my heart so
thoroughly everything after him seems underwhelming,
Six Months Ago, Layla
I squeeze my eyes shut tightly, fighting the urge to peek as
Liam leads me to an undisclosed location. My heart pounds
in my chest as tall grass scrapes against my bare legs, my
anxiety demands I open them just a bit to confirm. I suck in
a sharp breath as Liam bends down, his lips grazing my ear,
“If you peek again, I will edge that sweet cunt of yours until
you cry.” He warns, the threat sending heat to my core.
I should peek. I really, really should.
“Not much of a deterrent, Mr. Curran.” I taunt him. A squeak
leaves my throat as he jerks me off balance, making me
collide roughly into his tall frame. “So impersonal little star, I
fucking hate that.” He whispers, smashing his lips into mine,
kissing me deeply. Breaking that kiss only for a second, “Call
me Liam.” I wrap my arms around his shoulders as I melt
into him, his tongue dancing in perfect tune with mine. He
groans as he pulls away, his hands going to my waist as he
lifts me up, sitting me on something metal. I run my fingers
over the grooved surface. A tailgate? Liam doesn’t seem like
a truck guy. I suppose when you have that much money,
why not buy a truck?
“Open your eyes.”
I giggle with excitement as I open up my eyes, my heart
clenching in my chest. “Liam…” I whisper, unable to find
words for what I’m feeling. What even am I feeling?
“You said you’d never been to a drive-in, so I made one for
you.” His deep blue eyes shine with boyish pride as he runs
his hands through his tousled copper hair. He looks so
casual like this, his light gray t-shirt showing off the black
ink tattoos that line his toned arms. A far cry away from the
millionaire powerhouse he actually is.
He’s pretty cute when he’s trying to impress me. Which
never takes much.
I just gawk at the monstrous projector screen in front of us,
a table is sat up a little way in front of it with covered plates
for what I assume is dinner. Fireflies dance around the tall
grass as twilight sets in. It looks like a set from a movie, not
something someone does in real life. Much less for someone
you’ve been dating for less than a month, “Wait, you made
this?”
This is husband stuff. Let you put it in my butt level sweet.
He chuckles, looking down as he shoves his hands in his
pockets, “Well yeah, the base structure at least. This was
just undeveloped land I own, so why not put it to use?” I
shake my head in disbelief. The structure even has an
awning over the screen in case of rain. Tears prickle in my
eyes, nobody has ever done anything like this for me. Like
ever.
“I even brought all of your favorite horror movies.” He
gestures behind us as he hops up beside me, the bed of the
truck is piled full of blankets and pillows. I stare at it,
swallowing the lump in my throat. Praying he won’t see the
tears in my eyes, like the lame little looser I am.
He did all this for me.
“Fuck Layla, I’m dying here, say something.”
I laugh, “It’s amazing, you’re amazing. Thank you.”
Throwing my arms around him, he grabs me back even
tighter inhaling deeply as he buries his face in my hair. I pull
back, kissing him lightly before I meet his deep eyes that I
swear the entire ocean resides in.
“I thought you didn’t like it.” He admits shyly, avoiding my
eyes for a moment. God it’s cute.
“No, it’s just, you didn’t have to go through all this trouble
for…me. I’m nothing special.”
I gasp as his hand grips my chin tightly, his brows knitted
together. All traces of the lightness that graced his sculpted
features gone. He pushes me back so that he’s hovering
above me. His eyes now lit with that turbulent intensity I’ve
come to expect from him. “Never say that again. You are
everything, Layla. And you’re mine now. Just mine, right?”
My eyes widen at the gravelly tone in his voice, “Yours.” I
don’t think I’ll ever get used to how quickly he shifts moods.
He smiles, letting out a breath I didn’t realize he was
holding.
I was holding mine too.
“You’re so fucking good for me. Perfect, and you deserve the
world.” He runs his thumb over my lips, making them part
slightly as heat floods my core. His eyes slip to my lips, his
tongue darting out to wet his. “These soft pink lips are all
fucking mine, baby.”
The movies can wait.

I take my thousandth deep breath of the day, which may be

a new record as I climb the stairs leading to my bedroom.
Kicking off my shoes unceremoniously underneath my bed
before flopping face first onto it. Peaches sniffing at my bare
feet, her cold wet nose makes me giggle.
A momentary distraction to what seems to be my new
permanently sour mood.
Why can’t I stop thinking about him? Why do I care? He was
insane, quick-tempered, possessive and insecure. In all the
six months we were together, I only ever scratched the
surface of him, and even I know I saw more than most.
There was something else there, something dangerously
broken. Had he not done what he did that day, I might’ve
even fallen in love with him.
Or maybe you already did.
Nothing will change if I hole up in my house watching horror
movies and true crime documentaries like I have the past
three months. I don’t even properly enjoy going to work
anymore, everything there is a constant reminder of him. Of
that day…I knew Liam had influence and money, but I
suppose it had never occurred to me how far that went. Not
until the police showed up practically creating a cover story
for him instead of taking his statement. Instead of treating
him like a man that just brutally attacked someone in the
middle of the day with zero warning. He almost killed Mr.
Danvers in a crowded office without so much as a hint of
remorse. The way he justified it, so sure of himself and his
intentions. Like it was a perfectly reasonable reaction to his
girlfriend getting groped.
The smile on his face when he turned to me, blood splatter
mingling with his freckled cheeks, sends shivers down my
spine even now.
I tried calling several times in the weeks after the incident,
trying to apologize to Mr. Danvers, even though I know
that’s ridiculous. None of my calls ever went through, which
I don’t blame him for. He already hated me, then I started
dating his boss, that’s when his harassment got…
unbearable. I knew how Liam was; he overreacts.
A lot.
I knew not to tell him, granted I didn’t know how far he
would take it but had a feeling he would react in the intense
way he normally does when it came to me. That’s why I
went to human resources instead, filing complaint after
compliant. So many in fact, that it got knocked up the chain
of command.
To Liam.
He was furious with me; unlike I had ever seen him. I nearly
shit myself when he stormed into his house that night,
slamming me down into the leather couch. It hurt, he hurt
me. His bright blue eyes looked different…crazed. It took
hours to calm him down, just so he could listen to me. Hear
my side of things. I thought it worked. He made me believe
it had effortlessly towards the end.
It hadn’t.
Danvers ended up not only being fired and blacklisted, but
Oliva told me he has to have reconstructive surgery. Still,
none of that was as bad as when I told Liam I was done. The
look in his eyes still gives me chills, the eerie calmness to
his expression seemed like an attack more than anything. I
was…insulted. I thought he would fight me.
Fight for me. Even just a little.
He didn’t apologize or promise to do better. He didn’t do
anything. He just stared at me…those intense eyes boring
into my soul the way he does. So much time passed under
his gaze I thought he’d fucking lost it for a second. He didn’t
say a word. Not fucking one. Six months of his undivided
attention, of his world shattering love and he said nothing
when I threw it away.
It was all lies, from the very start.
He was always so much. So intense in his actions, his so-
called love for me it consumed me. The way I let him wrap
himself around me, obscuring my view of anything that
wasn’t him. I never really understood how deep my
grandpa’s words went until I met Liam.
“People wear many faces, Layla. If you leave it up to them
to show you the difference between them, you’ll always be
in the dark.”
Layla, Age Eleven
I pick up my tennis shoes making sure to hit all the right
stops as I creep down the hallway of our trailer. My pace is
agonizing as my heartbeat whooshes in my ears. One wrong
step. That’s all it takes. I flinch as I hear the glass of a bottle
hitting the vinyl floor.
He’s in the kitchen. I’ll eat at school.
I take a deep breath as I grab my backpack from the hook
on the wall by the door.
Almost made it.
“Layla!” I jump as dad’s voice assaults my ears. He’s
already yelling. I keep my eyes down, hating the idea of
seeing his ugly, pinched face.
“Yes sir.”
“Why didn’t you wake me up?! I’m fucking late! Gonna lose
my fucking job. We’ll be on the streets!” His words slur as
he prattles around the kitchen. I peek above the TV
checking the time, dread pooling in my stomach. “I didn’t
realize today was Thursd-“
Crash!
The sound of glass shattering in the metal sink makes me
yelp, the muscles in my legs tense, ready to run the
moment he takes a step.
Just one single step.
“You fucking look at me when I’m speaking to you” He
screams, always…always screaming. I lift my head. His
brown eyes are bloodshot as he stalks towards me. My hand
twitches, my body begging me to run before it’s too late.
Just go. Go to grandpa’s and beg him not to make you come
back. Go anywhere that isn’t here.
“Sorry sir.” I take a step back as he slams his hands on
either side of my head. Caging me in, trapping me here in
this house with him. The version of him he’s reserves for me
and mom when she was around. Although we haven’t seen
her in years, can’t really blame her for it. I’d have left to if I
were her.
“Get to school. Now! If I get one more call about your grades
or falling asleep in class, I swear Layla I will trash your room.
Everything you own gone!”
I want to scoff in his face. That threat only works if you
haven’t already taken most of my stuff. He’s probably too
drunk to remember. My room comprises of a bed and
blankets at this point. Bare necessities.
“Yes sir.” I fight to keep my face neutral, despite his rotten
breath ruining any appetite I had. Gin, cigarettes and God
knows what else permeated overnight wherever he passed
out. I always make a point to be asleep before he comes
home. He’s less likely to fuck with me if he can’t see me.
Out of sight and mostly out of mind. Something I learned
from mom. He shoves off the wall and I don’t waste another
second escaping that house. Not even bothering to slip on
my shoes until I’m at the bus stop.
I fucking hate you.

OceanofPDF.com
I smooth out my strapless black dress as we walk into the
dimly lit crowded lounge, clutching the jacket between my
hands, regretting my outfit choice as I seem… critically
overdressed. Apparently, James’s band, Rivermouse is a big
deal.
Locally at least.
Ava grips my arm as she leads me and the guy I’m naming
Tinder Bro over to the long bar. Both of us helplessly
dragging along behind the steam engine that is my best
friend. We managed to get here a little early, which is
surprising considering I tried to bail last minute. Some
stupid kids have been prank calling my cell phone all night.
Unknown number after private number calling again and
again. It stressed me out so badly I got in the bath and
flaked via text.
I should’ve known that wasn’t going to work.
Ava was knocking down my door at 6pm sharp, whipping
Peaches into a frenzy. She even brought me a dress, did my
hair and makeup before promptly dragging me outside. The
bartender walks over to me, leaning on the bar with a dark
eyebrow raised waiting for my order, she clears her throat
and I jump from my thoughts.
“Oh! Uh, a White Russian please.”
Ava leans over, “I didn’t think you liked vodka.”
“I panic ordered.”
Her date, whom I’m in no rush to learn the real name of,
considering she’ll block him after this, gives me a weird look
while Ava laughs. My cheeks flush as I look down at the thin
silver rings adorning my slender fingers, “It’s a thing.” I say
it out loud, but mostly to myself. It’s a thing…perfectly
normal thing. Ava wipes her eyes with the back of her hand.
“You owe me twenty bucks.” He groans, fishing for his
wallet.
She didn’t.
I gawk, “You bet on me?”
Ava winks, sticking the crumpled bill into her purse, “You
always panic order at least one drink at the bar. Easy
money.”
“Your ethics are questionable at best.” I mutter, turning to
her date, “She cries during sex just so you know.” Ava
smirks, completely unbothered giving the guy a loaded look,
“I’m a passionate lover.” I make a face as the bartender
returns with our drinks, dreading having to finish mine.
I really don’t like vodka.
“Hey you made it!” A familiar voice calls out over the loud
chatter from behind us. I turn as James pushes through the
sea of people making his way over. I give him a warm smile.
He looks so different from earlier. His casual white t-shirt
traded for a dark gray V-neck, showing off part of a large
eagle tattooed across his chest in dark vibrant colors. The
fact that my first thought was how much more I like Liam’s
dark colored moth tattoo has me sipping harder on my
drink. My gross drink.
“You like it?” He asks, smirking at the way I was staring at
his broad chest. “I got that when I was stationed in
Germany.” Drastically misreading my stare.
“Oh, what branch were you in?” Ava asks, cutting me off,
probably about to ramble on about being a military brat. Her
father has always been her idol. It’s the reason she works so
hard, to impress the high-ranking general that she could
knock the socks off of just by stapling a few papers together.
“The army, it wasn’t an excellent fit though. Turns out I’m
more of a pacifist.” He jokes. I keep the fake smile plastered
across my face, trying to shove away my nasty thoughts,
directed at nobody in particular.
I want to go home.
“Hey, I know this might be a little forward, but if you’re
down there’s an after party at my house. You should be my
date.” His green eyes light up as he slips his hand down my
arm. I glance at Ava, not really sure how to respond. Do I
want to go?
Just do it. Something has to change, force it to.
“Yeah, that sounds great.” I take a long drink, forcing myself
not to look disgusted as I do, not sure it works. His warm
eyes light up as he leans in kissing me lightly on the cheek,
“You can be my good luck charm tonight.” He winks before
heading back through the crowd.
“Break a leg!” Ava shouts before turning to me, her eyes
wide. I can feel the blush creeping up my neck. I can’t help
the small twinkling of butterflies in my stomach before I
down the last of my drink. That’s a good sign, right? I don’t
remember the last time I had butterflies that wasn’t
involving him .
“We should go find some seats.” Ava’s date states before
pulling her from the bar.
“I’m going to order something else. I’ll find you guys in a
few.”
Watching them head off before turning back towards the bar
giving the bartender a small wave. I reach into my bag,
pulling out my phone. I almost don’t turn it on.
Almost.
The nagging curiosity about the repeated calls overrides my
better judgment. It doesn’t take long for my phone to buzz
rapidly. One, two, ten, twelve texts flooding in.
What the fuck?
Unknown: Pick up the phone.
Unknown: Where do you think you’re going?
Unknown: Why would you wear that?
Unknown: Answer the fucking phone!
Unknown: Don’t you dare ignore me.
Unknown: I’m only doing this because I care, don’t be
afraid.
Unknown: If he fucking touches you again, you’ll be
sorry.
It continues like that. I yelp as it rings loudly, peeking up
underneath my eyelashes to see if anyone is looking at me,
they aren’t. Why would they be? I quickly leave the bar,
scurrying into the lobby of the lounge. My hand shakes as it
hovers over the green answer button.
Ring.
Don’t answer it.
Ring
Seriously, don’t do it.
Ring.
Click.
I pause for a moment before speaking, the anxiety clear in
my voice despite my most valiant efforts to mask it, “Hello?
Who is this?” Silence. I hear some kind of shuffling around,
static almost before upbeat old timey music fills the
speaker, a small soft voice singing faintly.
“I know
You belong to somebody
Somebody knew
But tonight
You belong
To me.”
My throat swells as my breath becomes unsteady, “Who the
fuck is this?”
A deep voice cuts through the song, sending chills up my
spine, “I know we’re apart, but your part, part of my heart
and tonight you belong to me.” It takes me a moment to
realize they’re singing along to the music; the thick accent
sounds strange and for the life of me I can’t place it.
“Tell me who you are or I’m hanging up!” I yell a little too
loudly, making a few people give me odd looks.
Deep breath. Deep breath.
“Where’s the fun in that baby?” They answer, the slow
methodical way of speaking that makes my stomach turn to
glass.
“What do you want?”
“Do you have any idea how dangerous it is out here? You’d
be so much safer with me.”
I grip the phone tightly in my palm. When I don’t answer
they continue, “I meant what I said, you belong with me. I
hope you like the song, I picked it out for-“ I hang up, my
body trembling as I quickly shut off my phone, dropping it
into the depths of my bag as if that whole unsettling
conversation would follow it.
It’s a joke, some sick, stupid joke. That’s all. Just stick next
to Ava. You’ll be fine. They’ll give up when they see you
aren’t going to play along.

Liam
I watch as Layla walks back into the lounge, my fists
clenching so tightly my nails dig deep into my palms. I want
to grab her, slip my hand over her mouth so she can’t
scream, and drag her back home. Back where she belongs, I
can’t trust her anymore. She’s my everything, my world,
and here he is touching her. Flirting with her and she’s
allowing it.
Enjoying it.
I step off the bench outside giving her enough time to get
through the crowd before I follow her in. These past few
months, watching and waiting has been hell for me. It was
necessary. If the texts and calls had started too soon after
our breakup she would’ve put two and two together far too
easily. I’m not ready for you to know, not yet anyway. Not
until I’ve broken you down to your core and stripped you
bare. Don’t worry, I’ll build you back up once we get there.
I’ll always build you back up, take care of you. Even when
you don’t think you need it.
You should’ve listened to my warning, little star. I didn’t
want anyone to get hurt. This is your fault, Layla.
 TRRST by IC3PEAK & Killakami
It’s pure unbridled torture watching her face light up as she
laughs and bobs her head to the music, knowing it should
be my company she’s enjoying. My jokes she’s laughing at. I
slink back further into the booth, listening through the
device I installed on her phone shortly after we started
dating.
I know, I know. It’s not right, but she’s mine. I want to keep
her safe. I want what’s best for her, even if she doesn’t see
it that way at first.
My jaw ticks as I glare at Ava. Not that she’s ever given me
a good reason to dislike her. She’s taken my Layla’s
attention from me more often than I’d like.
Which is a problem.
Every moment away from her is a fucking battle. Fighting
the urge to take her sweet body, chain her and lock her
away from the world. So I can fuck, touch and hold her
anytime I want. I don’t just want her at my side, I want to
consume her. Merge our bodies, so she’s always with me.
Bound to me until I take my last breath. I need her. I’ve
never needed anything like I do her, not food, not air or
water. My cock jerks in my pants as she leans over the
table, her gentle curves perfectly hugged underneath the
fabric of that dress. I know it doesn’t belong to her. I
checked her closet for new clothes earlier today when I
brought her a gift. Forcing my eyes closed I pull a deep
breath through my lungs, trying not to let my anger get the
best of me, yet. She hasn’t even noticed what I left for her
at home, but I know she’ll like it. She likes the way silver
looks on her skin, so do I. It compliments her.
We’ll be together soon, don’t worry little star.
I grip the Ka-Bar knife tucked and holstered against my side;
the black steel warm from being pressed against my skin all
night. The blonde saunters over to Layla looking far too
comfortable next to her. I adjust the earbud in my ear as his
voice grinds at my eardrums.
“So, what did you think about the music?”
She pauses for a moment. My heart thumps harder in my
chest, “It was great. Honestly, you have an amazing voice.”
I grind my teeth, gripping the handle of the knife so tightly it
bites into my skin.
You like his voice, little star?
He beams down at her, his stupid boyish smile masking the
heat in his eyes. But not from me. I can see you clearly.
That’s why you asked her here tonight, why you’re luring
her to the party afterwards. Why you looked at my Layla like
that in the restaurant, watched her with lusty eyes while she
cleaned herself up.
That simply won’t do.
“If you’re still down, give me like fifteen minutes to make
my rounds telling people bye and meet me outback. The
band always parks in the alley, leaves first to beat the
traffic.” She hesitates. My sweet little star hesitates, and my
chest fills with hope. You can save him Layla, you can say
no. Go home and this ends here.
“Fifteen minutes it is.”
I bite down on my inner cheek; a bubble of laughter trickles
up my throat. That was the wrong answer, Layla. I can’t wait
for you to see what I do next. He leans down, kissing the top
of her head as I grip the table. The sound of her adorable
shy giggle rips through my heart like an ice pick. Brutal and
efficient.
You like his voice and his kisses, huh?
I clear my throat, fighting yet another bubble of laughter.
Although I couldn’t feel further from amused. I stand,
keeping the deep hood of my black Salvador leather jacket
pulled over my head. I know I shouldn’t. It’s a risk, but it’s
more than worth it to feel her. My skin will be the last to
touch hers, even if it blows apart every plan I’ve put in
place. I dip past the table, and I can practically smell her
chamomile lotion as I walk past her, running my fingers
along the small of her back so slightly she’ll doubt if she felt
me in the first place. Her skin will break out in goosebumps,
remembering my touch. She shifts in her seat behind me as
I continue forward towards the back of the lounge.
Don’t worry little star. Just making some adjustments to
your plans.
Fifteen minutes, that’s more than enough time. I step out
the back door leading against the brick exterior of the
building. Pulling out my phone as members of the band
trickle out, piling into a large panel van.
One.
Two.
Three.
One more to go, come on James. I’ve got a busy night ahead
of me.
I reach into my pocket, sliding on my leather gloves as the
man of the hour slips out of the back door.
Six minutes.
He shouts his goodbyes as his friends pull down the alley.
There’s no working cameras in this area, so I don’t bother
keeping my hood up.
I want you to see me.
Shoving off the wall, I take a breath, finding it already
steady. That’s the good thing about people like me,
whatever I am. I can be seen if I want or not when it doesn’t
suit me. Perfectly still, perfectly blended into a crowd.
Perfectly calm in all of the most mind bending moments.
“For the love of God, Liam be quiet. Children are meant to
be seen, not heard.”
I adjust my neck as my mother’s words infiltrate my skull,
always sticking her nose where she doesn’t fucking belong.
He jumps at the sudden movement, laughing, “Holy shit
dude, you scared me.”
I give him a stiff smile, baring my teeth more than
necessary. “Oh, my bad.”
“Hey, do you have a lighter on you? I think one of my band
mates took off with mine.” He asks as he digs a pack of
cigarettes from his jacket pocket.
Sure don’t.
I step closer, “Yeah no problem, man.” He sticks the
cigarette in his mouth, oblivious when I pop the snap in my
holster.
Four minutes.
His eyes widen as he sees the blade backing up until he hits
the side of his car, “Hey man, I don’t want any trouble.
Alright?”
I laugh, the bitter sound tunneling down the alley. I step
closer, so close I can smell the stale cigarette smoke
clinging to his clothes, leaving him nowhere to go. “She
liked your voice.” I suppose I should feel nervous.
I’m downright giddy.
The thought of getting an object of her affection out of the
way forces fire and adrenaline through my veins.
“What the fuc- “
I slice through the air, catching him exactly where I needed
him as I watch the skin of his throat peel open beneath my
blade. The cigarette falls from his mouth as he stumbles
backwards, coating it in blood that’s quickly releasing from
his wound. “Haven’t you heard smoking kills James? She
hates cigarettes anyway, something about her dad I think,
but I haven’t confirmed it yet.” He stares at me, his green
eyes unnaturally wide. I lash out again, this time deeper,
deep enough to ruin the thing she liked so much about him.
He gurgles gripping at his throat as I force his hands from
the wound opening it back up to me. He doesn’t fight much,
“You couldn’t keep her safe.” He doesn’t argue the point. I’d
imagine severing his vocal cords have a thing or two to do
with that. I jerk the blade back again, this time plunging it
deep into his throat.
Squelch.
Such a cute sound, just like her.
He slumps, falling to the ground as I bend quickly, wiping
the blade clean on the back of his crumpled body. Reaching
into his pocket for his wallet, doing my best to avoid the
abundant blood covering his corpse. Emptying the contents,
money, credit cards and what I wanted, an ID. I shove it all
into my pocket before tossing his wallet back onto him.
Holstering my knife and dawning my hood, I head off down
the alley. I’ll toss the money and cards further down. No
shortage of people in San Francisco that could use it.
Layla
I step out into the alley, the brisk fall air pushing my hair
around my face as I look around for James. I’d be lying if I
said I wasn’t a little nervous.
I hope he didn’t take off. I got caught up talking to-
My eyes fall on the deep red puddle on the ground leading
up to…
Oh God…
I run to the man, slumped awkwardly back on himself. His
spine and legs tucked underneath him in a way that makes
it look like there’s only the top of him left at all. Is it?
James…? Oh god, I force my eyes open although I don’t
remember squeezing them shut in the first place going to
check his pulse but there’s nothing. His fucking neck is
carved open, the skin on either side flayed apart revealing
the inner workings of his body. He’s dead…very very dead. I
reach out with trembling hands to touch his arm, when I
finally catch his eyes. Glazed, empty, wide and unseeing.
He’s not cold…but I think…I think
The scream bubbles up in my throat as I wipe the tacky
blood from my hands. I stumble to my feet, fighting against
my wobbling knees. Bile escapes from my churning stomach
before I can stop it. I’m vaguely aware of the group of
people running down the alley. Black spots dot my vision as
they reach my side. They’re speaking, but I hear nothing
over the deafening hum in my ears, the slight whooshing of
my heart underneath it. The dark alley seems too bright, the
dim street lights and brick walls damp from the drizzle close
in around me as I fall.
“Will you please just look at the fucking texts? Someone is
messing with me- “
“Miss. Burke, I need you to calm down.”
How can I fucking calm down when you won’t fucking listen
to me?
I shift the stupid emergency blanket off my shoulders before
running my hands down my face. I’m sure my eyeliner
makes me look like a racoon by now, anyway. Not that I’m
too concerned with the opinion of the asshead in front of
me.
“Look, you’ve had a long night. Been drinking, head home to
get some rest. If anything comes up, we’ll get in touch.
Okay?” Officer Raymond says the warmness in his voice not
making it to his wrinkled eyes. We’ve been at this for nearly
two hours now. I nod, standing up from the back of the
ambulance. The nausea I felt when I first saw his body
hasn’t subsided. I’m too numb and tired to care at this
point. The buzz of alcohol I thoroughly enjoyed earlier
working against me.
“Look, you said you took an Uber here tonight. Let me have
an officer drive you home. If that will make you feel better.”
I take a deep breath, biting my tongue so I don’t respond
how I really want to, that won’t get me anywhere. I should
know I tried angry an hour ago. All it did was wear me out,
“Yes it would, thank you.” It’s not a lie, I’m…shaken. Too
shaken to pull out my phone and order an Uber or call Ava.
To be honest, I’m one spilled glass of milk away from a
fucking breakdown. I can feel the tendrils of anxiety poking
at my fractured resolve.
Last thing I want tonight is a pair of grippy socks.
I hope he’s right. I hope it’s just a coincidence that someone
just so happened to play a stupid creepy prank on me the
same night my almost date is the unlucky recipient of a
violent mugging. God, if I had been out here with him…
“Miss. Burke?” I don’t notice Officer Raymond leave or the
new one take his place as I’m snapped from my spiral, “I’m
Officer Daniels, I’ll be taking you home.” I don’t speak, only
nodding to myself or him, who knows. My chest aches the
way it does after it beats too hard for too long and my knees
threaten to buckle as I follow him down the alley towards his
cruiser. He looks young, much younger than Officer
Raymond. We ride in silence for most of the trip, the only
sound coming from the static on his police radio. “You live
pretty far out here. Got anyone to stay with you?”
Yeah right. Cop or not, I’m not telling you I live alone. Sure
fire way to end up on the ID channel, not that he couldn’t
just look up that information.
“I text a friend earlier.” I lie, leaning my head on the cool
glass of the window as we pull into my long driveway. The
glass feels like a small consolation. Lessened when the
smell of my alcohol infused vomit breath bounces back at
me, fogging my view. Neither of us speak again and God I’m
grateful for the silence. Too tapped out to notice if it’s
uncomfortable or not. Part of me dreading every turn we
take that pulls me closer to home. I should argue more. He’s
younger, maybe he’d listen. Ask him to walk through the
house of nothing else. The large farmhouse looks darker
than usual despite the lit windows, that creepy fucking song
playing on repeat in my head.
Which, I’m sure, was the idea.
I don’t ask for his help. I don’t mention a single more
concern. I don’t even thank him. Just gather my purse and
dart through the dark front yard, kicking myself for not
replacing the outdoor light bulbs that burned out months
ago. As soon as I’m inside, I lock the deadbolt, pressing my
back to the door, letting myself slide to the ground as the
weight of my night washes over me. Leaving me feeling
impossibly heavy. A small tinge of relief floods my chest as
Peaches comes up, settling next to me, her head brushing
against my leg. I always leave lights on when I go out. I
guess I never really grew out of my fear of the dark. My
house is lit, so rationally I shouldn’t be scared, right?
Right?
Yet I can’t make myself get up. I can’t force my legs to move
around the house. Each second sitting in silence makes my
chest tighten uncomfortably. It’s moments like this that I
miss him the most. His confidence, the way he simply
existed, always made me feel so…safe. So cared for. I run
my hand over Peaches’ soft fur, reminding myself why
calling him would be an awful idea. If he’d even fucking
answer. My lips part as my hand goes still, making Peaches
nudge me gently with her bear sized paw.
Liam…? No, there’s no way. He hasn’t so much as contacted
me since the day I broke up with him. He didn’t even bother
picking up his stuff.
I pitch my head back, making it thud loudly against the front
door before I bite down on my lip, forcing myself to a stand.
Pretending I’m brave until I actually feel that. Putting on the
little show for myself and the walls. I walk into my kitchen,
groaning when I realize it’s nearly 2am and I have work
tomorrow.
Not that finding a dead body isn’t a good reason to call in
sick.
After what happened, the last thing I want to do is be
difficult. Mr. Danvers’ replacement has been nice so far.
Namely, he hasn’t mentioned anything about that day.
Although I’m sure he knows, Oliva brings it up every chance
she gets.
“Alexa, open Spotify.”
I make a special point not to glance down the darkly lit
hallway or up the stairs to the cold walkway leading to the
bedrooms. Walking to the back door, letting Peaches out,
keeping my eyes planted firmly on the concrete steps.
Avoiding the wood line like the plague.
That’s a slippery fucking slope.
The longer you stare, the more things seem to shift and
move. My nerves cannot handle that matrix bullshit tonight.
Hell fucking no. As soon as she’s done doing her business, I
practically sprint back inside. Slamming the door so hard,
the glass rattles in protest. I glance down to see Peaches’
brown judgmental puppy eyes sizing me up.
“Don’t look at me like that. It’s been a long night.”
You need to check your phone. Let Ava know you’re home
safe.
I groan as I jerk my phone from my bag. My heart seizing up
in my chest as my hands start to shake all over again.
Unknown: You looked beautiful tonight. Sorry you
had to see that. Some lessons are best learned the
hard way baby.
A tear leaks down my face as I glance at the door, making
sure it’s locked. I send a brief message to Ava telling her I’m
home and need to talk to her tomorrow. I doubt she replies,
she rarely does when she’s with someone. I wonder into the
guest bedroom, hesitantly lingering outside the door before
I jerk it open flipping on the light. All of my grandpa’s things
clutter the room, memories of a man I owe my life to
gathering dust. Too weak to shift through most of it, so it sits
here like it has all these years.
I wipe roughly at my tears, fumbling past boxes making my
way into the gun cabinet. The weight of his 1911 handgun is
heavier than I remember it. I pop out the magazine making
sure it’s loaded before I leave the room like it’s on fire. I
don’t…want to feel anything tonight. I can’t. I stop at an
overstuffed kitchen drawer, jerking it open and frowning at
the pill bottle inside.
I hate that I need this. I hate that I can’t live without it. It
leaves a bitter taste in my mouth that has little to do with
the pill.
I pop one in my mouth, sitting the gun down on the side
table as I lower myself onto my couch. Too scared to walk
upstairs to my own fucking bedroom. Peaches gets a drink
of water as I force myself to breathe through my nose
before she curls up on top of my feet. Her uncomfortable
weight grounding me, each breath getting a little easier as
the knot in my chest tightens. A mix that doesn’t make any
sense to me, but I’m not interested in looking into it. Thank
God for pharmaceuticals. The exhaustion hits me all at once
as I jerk a cover over me, checking again that the gun is
close by as if it would’ve gotten up and walked away. I don’t
know when or how I fall asleep, but I do.

OceanofPDF.com
L iam
Fuck, this is monotonous.
I stare around the boardroom, the sleek hospital white
interior matched with the brutal sun shining in through the
windowed walls burns through my retinas like bleach water.
Last time I let Brandon design anything.
Liam, Age Twelve
I kick my legs out, pumping them until I go higher and
higher on the swing. Until I catch air, making the chains jerk
taunt on my descent. This isn’t just my normal
determination to beat my height record or another weak
attempt to fly all the way around the top.
This feels different.
There’s no tickle in my stomach as I feel myself go
weightless in the swing. The wind blowing through my
brown hair doesn’t feel as freeing as it should. I wrinkle my
nose; my skin feels dry and tight from another one of
grandmother’s bleaching treatments. It always burns and I
suppose that’s annoying, but I stopped caring about pain a
while ago. I stopped caring. Period. Do all kids feel this way?
Not Brandon, at least I don’t think so.
I hate my copper hair; I hate the freckles that dot my face. I
hate those things because she loved them and then she left.
Left me alone with the people that hated them.
Lítla Liam.
Why can I still hear her voice after all these years? Why do
my eyes fill with tears when I think of her? Why did she
have to go? As I swing up again, I look down at the ground.
Is this what she saw? Right before everything changed? Was
she scared? Why does my heart hammer in my chest when I
picture her that way…scared?
I pump my legs even harder, pushing myself until they burn.
I watch the leaves break free from their place on the trees,
tumbling to the ground as I release the cold chain of the
swing set from my fingers.
Almost there.
I let myself pitch backwards, my heart starts to race harder
as I free fall. It only lasts a second before my head hits the
gravel with a sickening thud. Like the sound she made, but
not nearly loud enough.
Damn.
“Liam!” I don’t look as I hear Brandon’s voice pitch up. I
don’t think that I can. Why doesn’t this hurt? I can feel
wetness seep onto the collar of my perfectly pressed polo
shirt. Mother is going to freak if she sees it dirty. I’m not
allowed to be dirty. I keep staring at the attic balcony of the
manor, imagining it going up in flames. Imagining the
windows imploding from the inside like they do in the
movies.
“Dude, what the heck? You’re bleeding.” Brandon’s long
shaggy black hair falls into his face. His dark eyes panicked.
“I think there’s something wrong with me.” I admit. I think
I’ve kind of always known but recently these feelings I get…
they aren’t normal. Sometimes I scare myself. This feels like
as good a time as any to admit that. He frowns, as if he’s
considering what I’m saying. “I mean yeah, you’ve cracked
your head open, dude.”
Idiot.
“It doesn’t hurt. Maybe I’m dying.” A strange feeling
bubbles up in my chest at the prospect as my eyes start to
feel weird. Heavy. Is this what you felt? No, it was quick. This
isn’t quick. It’s painfully slow.
“Can you at least wait until they release Final Fantasy XI
next month? I won’t have anyone to play with.”
Yeah, I guess I can.
I don’t say it out loud, at least I don’t think so. I meant to.
Didn’t I?
I lean back in my chair, making a conscious effort not to
bounce my leg impatiently while my best friend for well, my
entire life goes over spreadsheets and graphs outlining shit
that I couldn’t care less about right now. It’s been nearly
eleven years since I started Curran Enterprises, the leading
multimedia corporation in the US. Out of all the money and
perks that come with that, by far the best has been meeting
my little star. To think I was against buying out that
corporate building and the businesses in it. Not that Blinked
makes a lot of money, magazines are pretty well obsolete. It
makes her happy, so it stays. To be honest this life, the
money, galas, constant rubbing elbows with people I don’t
give a fuck about was never my thing. I was bred for it. Bred
to dawn whatever face suits the situation best. Whatever
the person I want something from will react to.
Manipulative? Certainly. Also, incredibly effective. I learned
from the best. All my combined faces could never go up
against one of Mother’s.
I’ve always had this other side to me, the face I wear when
I’m alone. I get…caught up in things. Mother always said I
was an excitable child. Whatever the fuck that means, she
wasn’t wrong. I’ve always had to work hard to channel in on
something, to steer my attention in a certain direction.
Track, fencing, hapkido, building Curran Enterprises until
that day. The day I first laid eyes on Layla Rea Burke; my
mask cracked.
My control slipped.
Suddenly it all meant less, my company, status etc. Proving
a point to the silver spoon fed family I came from, all I could
see is her. All I could think of was her. In an instant she
wiped all other touches from my skin, goals and morality
from my mind.
She became my anchor, the thing I could focus on to keep
me level.
Except I didn’t stay… level. She drew out all that obsessive
intensity I had suppressed. She slipped off my mask that
day, laid me bare. Something about her was so raw and
delicate. Her scars and insecurities were so fucking beautiful
to me. Still, I think I hid myself from her well enough, which
makes me feel guilty even now. She hid nothing. Layla never
wore a mask. The way she spoke, her body, the way she
rolled her eyes at her pompous ass of a boss, she was
unapologetically herself despite repeatedly apologizing.
There’re still things I don’t know, of course, people that hurt
her. Her father for instance, in all our time together she
never mentioned him. Not once. He’s dead, long dead
actually. The paper bound facts of her life I know, it's how
feels about it that evades me. The fact that I don’t know
every single crevasse of her mind like I know her exquisite
body irritates me more than it should. I suppose I could’ve
spent more time really digging into what made her tick
instead of burying my cock in her twenty-four seven, but
Layla feels like an angel dripped in fucking sin. Feeling her
clench and come apart on my dick was the closest I’ve ever
been to heaven. She was content there too, always so
willing to push herself. Test her limits, so eager to please
me.
Such a good girl.
A small smile breaks out over my face. Last night went
exactly as I wanted it to. As I had envisioned it. I shook her,
knocked her off kilter. I hate that she had to go back to that
house alone, the fact that she cried without me being there
to hold her twists my gut uncomfortably but doing the dirty
work where she’s concerned is something I will never shy
from. I sat up for most of the night, watching her sleep on
her couch through the cameras I have hidden in her house.
All of this is necessary to bring my little star back to me. I
knew she was upset after what I did back then. I had no clue
she would… leave me. That has been the worst day of my
life by far and wide. She stood there in front of me, dry eyed
and told me to go. Told me she was done with me.
You’ll never be done with me Layla…
I tighten my grip on the armrest of my chair, listening to the
leather crinkle in protest. I couldn’t react. My heart was
shattering. What could I possibly say? What could I possibly
do? The hole she bore through my chest is still raw and
bleeding. A wound only Layla can balm. It was a mistake
what she did, a hiccup. Nothing more. She didn’t mean it, I
know that. Still, it was everything I had not to cross the
kitchen and snap her fucking neck, or fuck some goddamn
sense into her. I should’ve said something. I couldn’t make
the appropriate words come out.
Couldn’t make any words come out. I was…scared. It felt
like that day all over again. She abandoned me when she
knew how much I fucking needed her.
So, I just stood there like an asshole and watched her rip out
my heart and stomp it into the dirt like a spent cigarette.
“Mr. Curran.”
Allender breaks me from my thoughts. I suck in a steadying
breath through gritted teeth, fighting the urge to cram his
face into a fucking blender. “My apologies. What were you
saying?”
His jaw ticks. I imagine it would give him no greater
pleasure than to do the same to me. Contemptible fuck,
unfortunately we’re locked into contract with my mother’s
former husband. One of what, twelve? I practically laughed
in her face when she asked me to give him a spot at the
company, yet here he sits. The fact that she still has so
much control over me makes me feel downright homicidal.
“Regarding the Lambert building, the one-year trial is half
over for the businesses inside and it’s been our lowest
earner. As the head of accounting, I think it’s best we cut
our losses, consolidate the internal companies and-“
“No.” I interrupt him, Brandon pinches the bridge of his
nose. I don’t care for his social correctness at the moment.
It’s been two fucking hours since I’ve checked in on my little
star. God knows what she could be doing, who she could be
talking to at work.
“Sir, I understand you had high hopes for the building.” He
stops, checking the papers in front of him as if he can’t
remember the name. “The Blinked.”
Stupid cunt.
I take a sip of my coffee loudly, it’s an awful sound but it
irritates him in particular, so it’s worth it. Brandon adjusts
his long hair, pulling it up into a messy bun trying to hide
the amused smirk on his face. Allender takes a deep breath
before continuing, “Blinked Magazine in particular, my
apologies but the truth is the magazine is hemorrhaging
money.” The other board members look at him, wide eyed
although I can tell they agree. I clear my throat, fixing my
icy stare on the older man, “Their contract stipulated a one-
year trial period for turnaround profit with the new business
model.”
“Mr. Curran clinging to a failing magazine to appease your
fiancé is hardly a decent- “
I stand abruptly, sending the rolling chair I had been sitting
in swooshing backwards. I fight the smile that threatens my
face at his words. Calling my sweet Layla my fiancé, she
hasn’t agreed yet, but I couldn’t help it when I announced
our engagement. “Last I checked, my name is the one on
the side of this building and many others. Not yours Mr.
Monet. I have final say in business decisions, that includes
this one. As for the rest of the building, I couldn’t care less
what you do with them. I think we’ve covered quite enough
today.”
Brandon stands slowly, “So we’re in agreement to dissolve
all other non-earning businesses in the Lambert building?” I
nod my eyes still on Allender, “I will check in on Blinked
myself today.” Penelope dabs my shoulder, I twist gripping
her wrist and the base of her arm tightly before jerking, the
pop of bone filling-
“Sir you have a booked day.” She says lightly, smiling as sun
shiny as ever as I move away from her. After a year of being
my assistant, she hasn’t figured out I detest being touched.
Especially after my Layla. Her hands should be the last ones
on my skin.
“Clear it.” I order, blinking away the visual of her snapped
wrist. She just nods, getting to work doing just that.
The other members filter out, creating an annoyed cluster at
the door, “Mr. Monet a moment.” A smirk bleeds out onto
my face as his fists clench around his briefcase. I wait, just
staring at him in silence as he shifts uncomfortably. Brandon
is the last to leave as he shakes his head. He’s known me
most of my life. Therefore, he knows better than most how
right I was that day, when I admitted to him how I felt
inside. I’m not normal, quite the opposite, really.
“The next time you feel the need to bring my personal life or
my fiancé,”
God, I love the way that sounds.
“Up in business, I will happily forget the favor I promised my
mother. Do not forget that your employment here was an
act of charity on my behalf.” His face turns an amusing
shade of red as he nods, exiting the boardroom. My
heartbeat races, knowing I’ll get to see her soon. Speak to
her as myself for the first time in months. “Penelope, I’ll be
having lunch in the city.” She nods, pulling back out her
phone to make the reservation, her very intact wrist
taunting me as I head towards my office, humming to
myself. The lyrics of our song playing through my head.
I know you belong
To somebody
Somebody new.
But tonight.
You belong to me.
Layla
I groan, stretching my back in my cramped cubicle, my
spine absolutely screaming from passing out on the couch
last night. Plus, I overslept, skipped breakfast and had to
sprint around my house to get ready on time. I was still late,
but that’s beside the point.
“If you groan like that again, I will riot. Get a cup of coffee
and take a Xanax or something.” Ryan complains from the
next cubicle over.
I did take one.
“It’s hardly my fault you left your air pods in your car.” I
retort as I push out of my seat, rolling my stiff wrists. I hear
the wheels of his chair squeak as he pushes past the divider
to glare at me. “It’s exactly your fault that you wouldn’t let
me borrow yours.”
“Or you could just walk out to your car and get yours.”
“It’s raining.”
“You’ll live.”
“Crusty bitch.” He mumbles as he rolls back to his desk. I
stand smiling to myself. When I turn, I damn near slam into
the mail guy in the process, “Oh God, I’m sorry.”
The older man smiles sheepishly, heat rising to his already
flushed cheeks. I give him a kind smile back as he digs
around his mail bag, “This was found in the lobby today, it
was addressed to you. Suppose it was dropped on the way
to the mail room.”
“Thanks.” I take the light manila envelope, turning it over in
my hands. No return address, no stamp. Nothing.
Someone had to have dropped it off here.
Not entirely uncommon since I write about the shady side of
your favorite influencers, particularly their wide ranging and
more often than not off kilter ideals. Probably a personal
assistant or best friend breaking an NDA to jump on the tea
train. I toss it back on my desk as I head towards the break
room in search of coffee. Just as I hit the archway, the
elevator door dings, pulling my attention. I peek out,
gasping when my eyes land on him. I jerk, launching myself
into the break room, slamming into Oliva as we knock
against the counter.
“What the fuck, Layla?”
I frown, shushing her loudly, “Sorry.” She glares back at me,
peeking out of the hallway. Her face contorts into a bitchy
smirk as her blue eyes land on Liam.
“Don’t please.” I beg her, knowing it’s of no use. Oliva has
hated me since I started. Always taking Mr. Danvers’
attention from her, her position of class pet. Although I’ve
never understood why she liked him, he treated us all like
shit. She throws her platinum blonde hair over her shoulder
before strutting out into the hallway. I can’t help the twinge
of jealousy that blooms in my gut.
Stop.
“Oh hello, Mr. Curran. It’s so nice to see you again. I had no
idea you’d be stopping by.”
His voice warms me as it slips down my spine, forcing my
skin to break out in goosebumps, “I wasn’t aware I needed
to announce it each time felt I like leaving my office.” I
smirk to myself as I pour a cup of coffee into my lucky
Friday the 13th cup.
Bitch.
I take a deep breath, knowing my only option is to walk out.
He’s got to pass by here on his way to the new boss’s office,
Mr. Campbell. Although he likes to be called Derek. It’s hard
getting used to someone so laid back after working for the
hellhound that was Danvers for so long. I constantly catch
myself walking on eggshells in every conversation, waiting
for the snap. A familiar feeling that has done great things for
my mental health.
Stop stalling. It’s going to look weird if you hide in here. You
are both adults, act like one.
I grip my coffee tightly, ignoring the uncomfortably hot walls
of the cup against my palms as my heart thumps wildly in
my chest. My ratcheting anxiety determined to make Xanax
look like a little bitch.
“Of course not Mr. Curran, I just- “
“Is Mr. Campbell in?”
Now or never, Layla be a big girl.
“He actually just stepped out for lunch, sir.”
I take a deep breath as I step into the hall, keeping my eyes
glued to my cup. I can feel his stare before I look up. My
core heating at the prospect of having his full attention, I
feel it as sure as the heat pressing into my palm. It’s all-
encompassing, damming and fuck me, I’ve missed it. I peek
up from under my lashes as I approach them, his intense
blue eyes trained on me. Looking at me the way he always
has, as if nothing changed. My cheeks flush bright red as his
lips pull up into a smirk.
“Hello Layla.”
I nod as I pass, “Mr. Curran.” I watch his firm hands clench
into a fist, making the veins in them pop. My heart skips a
beat as I slip into my chair, finally hidden from view. My
hands are trembling as I sit down my coffee cup rougher
than I mean to sloshing some of the drink onto the
envelope. “Fuck.” I mutter under my breath as I scramble to
open it. Jerking out the contents. In an instant, the building
goes still, the hard plastic card feels heavy in my hands.
Like I’m holding the weight of the world… or at least the
weight of a body.
I stare down at James’s ID, the rush of seeing Liam long
forgotten as my breath comes out in rough pants. The walls
of my cubicle closing in as my throat tightens. I flip it over,
more bile rising to my throat as I look at the half legible
message penned onto the back in sharpie.
Patience & Prudence
I barely register Ryan’s hand on my shoulder or his
concerned voice in my ears as I jerk out my phone, typing it
in. My heart drops so far down I’m sure it travels all six
floors to the parking garage as it pulls up a Spotify page.
The song at the very top named Tonight you Belong to Me. I
feel the blood drain from my face as I hit play. The song’s
upbeat tune blares to life. Filling the otherwise quiet office
and I think I’m going to be sick. I quickly exit the app,
wishing I could erase that song from my mind. Wishing I
could erase it all. The sight of his body crumpled and
bloody,
“Are you okay?”
I push up from my desk, bumping into Ryan before clutching
the ID tightly in my hand with my phone in the other as I
hurry from my cubicle. The copper haired God was the last
thing on my mind until I heard his voice, his self-assured
footsteps quickly approaching me.
I can’t. I can’t deal with you and this right now it wasn’t a
coincidence. It wasn’t…it wasn’t. God, I can’t fucking
breathe.
I slam my fist into the elevator panel, willing it to open
before he catches up to me. The concern in his deep velvet
voice forces tears into my eyes.
I need to call the police.
“Layla! Wait.” He commands as the doors spring open. I
ignore him, my whole body breaking out into tremors. I
don’t even know where I’m going. All I know is that this
building feels too small, that cubicle too cramped. I step into
the elevator, slamming the close door button as if my life
depends on it. It almost works.
Almost.
Liam wedges his foot in the sliding doors making them
spring back open. I raise my head meeting the confused
stares of Oliva and Ryan over his broad shoulder. I’m sure I’ll
get shit for leaving like this.
Right now, I really don’t care.
“Layla, you’re shaking.” He says, his warm hand pushing my
hair behind my ear. “Lay- “
I shove away from him more violently than I meant to as
black spots dot my vision, “Don’t fucking touch me!” I
shouldn’t lash out, I know that but right now I can’t help it.
He steps closer, his musky clean scent washing over my
fried nerves, “Panic attack?”
I nod as I start gasping, tears now pouring down my flushed
cheeks, and I hate it. The ID still gripped tightly in my fist,
bending the plastic. Only now, do I realize I could
contaminate evidence, I shove it into my back pocket
quickly. My own stupidity only adding to my panic.
Fuckfuckfuck.
“Look at me Layla.” He says, stepping so close I can feel his
warm breath on the top of my head. “Look at me.” I brace
myself on the elevator wall, ignoring him.
I’m not okay. I’m not okay.
“Layla, look at me.”
A sob rips from my throat all the emotions I’ve kept bottled
up bursting from me like a tidal wave. I frantically wipe my
face as the elevator doors slide open, I didn’t even select a
floor. A small amount of relief hits when I see an empty
parking garage and not the filled lobby of a corporate office
building. I don’t argue when Liam grabs my wrist, tugging
me from the elevator as he tucks us into the small dark
coved spot directly beside it.
Nonono, I can’t be here. Too small.
“Little star.” He breathes out, grabbing my face in his hands.
My heart lurches from my chest. “Take a deep breath with
me.” I do.
In, hold, out.
“Good job, another.”
In, hold, out.”
“Another.”
In, hold, out.
“Everything is okay. You’re in control. You’re safe.” He tucks
a loose strand of hair back into my sloppy bun that’s oilier
than I care to admit.
Am I though? Am I okay?
I exhale a shaky breath as he wipes my tears away with his
thumb, leaning his warm forehead against mine, “You did
good for me, little star.” His lips graze mine as wetness
pools between my legs only adding to the general chaos
inside me.
No.
I jerk away from him, walking out into the garage. Looking
anywhere but him. Months of zero contact, then he shows
up and helps talk me through a panic attack. How fucking
humiliating. As if he read my thoughts, he follows me out,
coming to stand in front of me. His presence commanding
every bit of my attention the way it always has, “You have
nothing to be ashamed of, Layla, not with me.” I meet his
eyes. There’s so much there. Things I don’t want to see. All
the emotion he didn’t show that day, it’s there.
Pain, longing…love and something else, something strange.
“We know each other too well for that.”
No, we don’t.
I shake my head, “Thanks, I’m okay now though. I…I have
some stuff to take care of, you should get lunch or
something. Mr. Campbell usually takes a long one.”
“Layla…”
“No! No Liam, don’t…say my name like that.”
He steps closer, capturing my wrist in a tight hold before he
twists my phone from it. Reaching into my pocket and
pulling out the ID. “Don’t touch that!” Something dark
flashes in his deep blue eyes, something cold and alarming
before it’s quickly wiped away. Making me second guess if I
ever saw it there in the first place. But I did, I saw it. He lets
go of my wrist, looking at the ID, “What is this?”
“It’s none of your business Liam, now give it back. It’s
important.” He lets me take it from him, handing my phone
back to me as well. I take a deep breath, pulling up the
contact information I saved for Officer Daniels.
“Officer Daniels?” He asks, staring at my phone screen. Just
like that, he’s slipped back into old Liam. Controlling,
obsessive Liam.
God help me and this warm feeling in my gut.
“Look, I’ve got too much shit going on to deal with you. In
any capacity, ever again.” I spit out the words, making sure
they’re laced with abhorrence. He takes a step back, eyeing
me in that clinical way that used to make me feel so
exposed to him.
Still does .
“Clearly whatever it is, you can’t handle it alone. I think you
made that clear. Fuck me for wanting to make sure you were
okay. I still- “
“Shut up. Shut the fuck up, Liam. It is none of your damn
business.” I warn, locking my phone again.
A growl forms low in his chest as he steps forward, gripping
my chin tightly, forcing me back into a concrete support. I
gasp as my head knocks against it roughly.
What the fuck ?
“I care about you, Layla, and I don’t give a fuck if you want
to hear that or not. I will make sure you’re okay and you’ll
put up with it or I’ll-“ He cuts himself off, taking a deep
breath. Biting down on my lip, his words catch me off guard
but not nearly as much as his voice. The raw malice in it. My
sex throbs as my chest tightens. My mind waving the
proverbial red flag while my body threatens to melt into him
all together.
“Release. Your. Lip.” He grits out, his ocean blue eyes
heated, boring into me as he pushes himself harder against
my body. As if he’s trying to mold himself to me. I crack my
lips, allowing my bottom one to spring free. My heart skips a
beat when the ding of the elevator door fills the garage. I
can hear people stepping out but I can’t look away from
him.
“Liam, people are watching.”
“I don’t fucking care.” His voice turns gravelly as he runs his
lips gently along my jaw, forcing my head upwards. I exhale
a shaky breath as his tongue dips out, teasing the flesh
there. My skin no doubt salty from my tears.
“Hey, uhm, everything okay over here?” A man’s voice jolts
me from Liam’s orbit. Liam let’s go begrudgingly turning
only half of his attention to the man, “Yes. Leave.”
The guy takes a step back, making me frown, his eyes wary
and nervous. He peeks around Liam and I give him a small
smile and a nod. Which seems to be enough judging by how
quickly he retreats. Liam wastes no time turning back to me
as I quickly unlock my phone hitting call, desperate to
remove myself from whatever ungodly thing just happened
between us.

Liam stays like he said he would lingering close by as I

speak to the police. He messes around on his phone even
takes a call or two, but I know he’s listening. He’s always
listening, laser focused on everything around him always.
Especially me.
It never occurred to me how exhausting that must be for
him.
The cops still aren’t taking me seriously, claiming they’ve
already found the man they believe to be responsible. An
old homeless guy was found with his bank cards and money
James was said to be carrying that night. He even had blood
on him. I shake my head as Officer Daniels proceeds to
explain to me all the reasons I’m not being harassed by a
murderer. I basically have to force him to take pictures of
the texts and calls on my phone. As the police walk away
from me, I slip it back into my pocket, having accomplished
less than nothing. Why would a homeless man that’s never
met me and have no way of knowing me send my “dates”
ID with the name of that band scribbled on the back? What
about the calls and texts? Why would I make that shit up?
It makes no sense.
If you ask Officer Daniels, he’ll tell you the band name was
probably written by James since he liked music, because
people normally draw random band names that just so
happen to have significance to their dates on their
government issued divers licenses.
Seems legit.
According to him, the old man probably heard us talking in
the bar and decided to fuck with me. Despite the fact that I
definitely would’ve noticed a crazy old homeless guy lurking
around us. Not to mention I’m pretty sure they flat out think
I’m lying about the calls and music. Liam pushes off the
wall, shoving his hands in his pockets as he walks back
towards me, his dark navy blue suit tailored expertly to his
lean athletic muscles. “You should’ve called me Layla. You
must’ve been so scared.”
I scoff, “I should’ve called my irrational short-tempered ex to
tell him I think someone is stalking me and that they killed
the guy I was trying to hook up with? Yeah, that’s a brilliant
idea.” I watch his jaw clench as if to prove my point.
“I need to get back to work.” I breathe out, a new sense of
dread starting where the other ends. That’s what I am now.
A walking, talking ball of anxiety and dread.
Fun. Fun for me.
“You need to go home and rest. I’ll have Penelope schedule
my security company for an install. You’ve should’ve let me
do that when I first offered.” The annoyed tone of his voice
does a good job of reminding me where we stand. Not
together. Being under his thumb or indebted to him seems
like an awful idea.
“Like I can afford that. I don’t want anything to do with you
or your security team. I’ll have a system installed myself.” I
head back towards the elevator, not making it far before he
grips my arm, tugging me back to him, “You know I don’t
mind paying for it. You won’t owe me a thing. I want to keep
you safe.”
My lip trembles, “No thank you.”
“It doesn’t have to be like this, Layla.” His coppery
eyebrows knit together, somehow making him even more
handsome. His freckles and tossed hair make him look
deceptively boyish, but he’s not. Liam Curran is all man.
Where was all of this when it mattered?
I tear my arms out of his grasp, his fingers leaving red
indents in their wake. “Yes, it does.” I turn again, walking
quicker as my chest aches.
Fuck you, Liam. Fuck. You.
“Look me in the eyes and tell me you feel nothing for me.”
His voice takes on a hint of desperation and makes the dull
ache in my chest grow until it’s a large gnawing wound.
The kind that could kill you.
I spin around, blinking the tears from my eyes, “Why does it
fucking matter?” I nearly gasp when I meet his intense
gaze. It feels like I’ve shrunk five feet. A loss I couldn’t
afford since he already stands a solid head and half over
me. How does he always do that? Make me feel so…
helpless, so weak for him.
“You have no idea how much it fucking matters, Layla
Burke.” I watch as he clenches his fists, his head lowered
slightly. Another cold flicker in his eyes. This is the side of
him that scares me and intrigues me more than I’d like to
admit. The violent side that forced its way out the day
everything went to shit. Revealing the monster that lurks
beneath his skin. The reason I left. I keep my eyes on him as
my phone rings, I’ve been gone for way too long. I’ll
probably get hell for not letting anyone know I was even
leaving. “I feel absolutely nothing for you, Liam Curran. I
don’t think I ever really did.”
His eyes widen slightly, I can tell my words hurt him. Good.
He hurt me. He scared me and tore my heart out of my
fucking chest. I needed him to fight for me, to show me I
had nothing to be afraid of and he just… stared. Like right
now, his cruel gaze raises goosebumps to my flesh as my
phone rings again.
I take a deep breath as I step into the elevator, hitting
answer. His cold blue eyes meet mine as the doors slide
closed.
“Hello?”
My heart stops in my chest as that familiar old timey music
plays, I hold my breath as I wait for the small voice to sing a
song I’ll never forget. One that has been playing on repeat
in my mind since the moment I heard it last night.
“I know
you belong
To somebody
Somebody new, but tonight
You belong
To me.”
“Who are you? What the fuck do you want?” I yell into the
phone. Fighting the urge to flee back to Liam. I hear rustling
around on the other end of the phone. The music plays
faintly as that deep, heavily accented voice bleeds into my
soul, injecting ice into my veins.
“To unravel you sweet, sweet Layla.”
“Did you do it? Did you kill him?” I ask, barely above a
whisper. My hands shaking as my palms sweat, feeling slick
and clammy against my phone. He laughs, sending chills
down my spine. It sounds wrong and unnatural, “You liked
his voice. So, I took it from you.” The line goes dead as the
elevator doors slide open. I look up, meeting Oliva’s eyes
from the front desk as I step out, my legs wobbling beneath
me.
“You look like shit.” She mutters before answering a call. I
just nod as I head towards the bathroom. I don’t know how
long I sit on the toilet and cry. All I know is by the time I
come out I feel completely numb and Liam has evidently
already said everything he needed to, to Mr. Campbell.
I don’t think that I’m okay.

OceanofPDF.com
L iam, Age Six
“Mother look what I- “
Smack!
Pain radiates across my cheekbone as mother’s jeweled
rings cut into my flesh. I stumble backwards, my back
colliding with the accent table in the parlor. Making it
screech loudly across the white marble floor.
“Do not call me that! Great, now look what you’ve made me
do. I’ve scratched your face. We need to visit a
dermatologist about those freckles, anyway. You look so
much like your father I can’t stomach it. Au pair! Clean his
face and don’t let him in here again.” Miss. Katla grips my
arm lightly, pulling me from the room as mother climbs onto
her new husband’s lap. She lifts her dress, exposing herself
briefly before draping her dress back over them. I don’t
understand why I’m never allowed to see her, I don’t
understand what I’ve done. What I do every day that makes
her so angry with me. I lift my arms, tossing them around
Miss. Katla as soon as we’re out of sight, tears fall down my
cheeks, soaking her uniform.
“Don’t mind her Liam, some women just weren’t meant to
be mothers.” She consoles me, running her hands through
my dyed brunette hair. Miss. Katla told me once that my hair
was a pretty red color, kinda like the bronze statues in the
foyer. Mother doesn’t like that color, though. If it makes her
happy, I don’t mind her keeping it brown like hers and
grandma’s. Plus, I like the way it feels when the ladies at the
salon play with it. I thought things might be better when we
moved back into Curran manor with grandma but she only
seems more angry with me now. Although I’m not sure what
I did. I only see them every few days, even though we live in
the same house. It’s kinda like Miss. Katla is my mom.
“Miss. Katla, will you be my mom?” I whisper, scared mother
might hear my betrayal despite us being well into the west
wing now. Her breath comes out quickly, but it sounds
weird. I peek up at her face as she sits me on the bathroom
counter, digging my favorite Batman band aids from the
drawer. Mother doesn’t like them, but Miss. Katla let’s me
have them, anyway. I like Bruce Wayne. He’s strong and
really cool. He’s lonely a lot I think, like me. Miss. Katla
kinda reminds me of Alfred too, except you know she’s not
an old guy and much prettier.
She grabs my face lightly. My eyes wander when I see the
tears falling down her pink cheeks, “It would be the greatest
honor to be your mommy, Master Liam.” I beam up at her,
fighting a giggle. She laughs. The warm sound makes my
chest feel funny, “Don’t you be poking fun again.” She
scolds me playfully, flicking water in my face.
“It’s not my fault your voice sounds goofy.”
“It’s called an accent, perhaps if you paid more attention in
your Icelandic lessons, you’d know that, lítla Liam.” I wince
as she cleans the scratch on my face with a yucky smelling
liquid. It stings pretty badly but I’m careful not to cry.
Batman wouldn’t cry.
“Lítla means little.” I say proudly. That’s an easy one, Miss.
Katla calls me that all the time.
“Very good!” She muses as she leans down, smoothing the
band aid across my pudgy cheek, “And for the record, I think
your freckles are lovely.”

I sigh deeply as I run my hand along Peaches’ light-colored

fur, she adjusts making her thick collar clank against the
tags. I let my hand still for a moment, listening for any sign
it woke my little star. When I’m satisfied she’s still out, I
bend kissing the pup’s nose, “Sorry I flicked you last time.
We good?” Her tail thumps against the leather couch as I
give her one last head pat. I blink my eyes rapidly, still not
used to wearing these godforsaken colored contacts. A
groan slips from my lips involuntary as I stretch out my arms
glancing at the clock. I’ve been here for a little over three
hours now.
Oh shit, I nearly forgot.
I walk to the warm-toned kitchen island, unwrapping the
chocolate mocha coffee creamer, Layla’s favorite. She never
remembers to get more until she’s completely out and by
then she has to go without which, according to her ruins
absolutely everything . I smile to myself as I slip it into the
door of the refrigerator, lifting the old bottle and giving it a
little shake.
Yeah, basically empty.
I turn, lifting the lid to the trash before I stop, clenching the
plastic bag tighter in my fist.
Now there’s an idea.
We can consider this payback for how our last meeting went
little star. I rub my chest absent-mindedly as it tightens, as
if the action will release some of the tension and pain
nested inside my chest cavity. I feel absolutely nothing for
you, Liam Curran. I don’t think I ever really did. Those are
the words she said to me. I had no clue words could hurt so
badly. They have no substance, yet they cut more
effectively than the world’s sharpest blades.
All I’ve ever done is love you, love you better than anyone
else ever could. Yet you insist on making things difficult for
us.
I draw in a deep breath, tugging the black mask back into
place, securing it in the back. Double checking my sleeves
are covering the tattoos on my arms as I tuck the bag into
my back pocket. Clicking my tongue as I head to our
bedroom, carefully skipping the stairs that creek too loudly. I
stop in the hallway as Peaches runs up after me, clicking my
tongue again as I slide open the balcony door, watching as
she settles down on her large dog bed under the stars
before I close it behind me. That’s a fight I want to avoid at
all costs. I gently try the handle of our bedroom door, half
expecting it to be locked. Something else I suspect she
picked up from her childhood. I smirk behind the mask when
I find it unlocked.
“Tsk Tsk, that’s dangerous baby.” I whisper to myself more
than her as I shove the door open, not explicitly trying to be
quiet anymore. Whatever happens past this point will be
fine with me, as long as I’m with her. My cock is already
hardening in my pants. It’s been too long since I’ve seen her
up close. These past four days have been hell. Calling,
emailing, texting constantly. Waiting outside our home like a
fucking peeping Tom, desperate for a glimpse.
Being ignored by her is enough to drive anyone to extremes.
I even played our song through her Bluetooth speaker a few
times. She threw it out the front door where it still resides
busted in the gravel drive. Stubborn fucking woman. She
groans softly, pulling the covers up around her delicate face.
So fucking adorable. Too bad you’re such a fucking brat.
I walk closer to her, my heart racing and palms itching with
the need to touch her as I remove my gloves. I need to feel
her soft skin. Truly feel her.
You are mine Layla, I intend to show you just how much I
mean that.
Layla
I Feel Like I’m Drowning by Two Feet
I take off down the hallway, my heart racing as Liam gains
on me. “No!” I yelp, bursting out into giggles as he heaves
me over his shoulder carrying me back into the bedroom,
my head only barely missing the door frame as he quickly
covers it with his hand. A simple, thoughtful gesture and my
heart is the fullest it’s ever been.
“I’m nowhere near done with you yet, little star.” The heat
from his voice does damming things to my aching core. My
cheeks hurt from smiling so much, “I’m sore.” I whine as I
nestle my face in his back, inhaling his scent. An abrupt
squeal escapes from me as I’m hurled towards the bed, he
doesn’t waste any time jumping on top of me caging me in
like an animal. His deep blue eyes are caked with lust , just
as they have been all morning. He reaches between my
legs, wrenching them apart, “Guess I’ll have to take your
mind off that then, can’t have my girl hurting.” I grip his
messy copper hair in my hand, keeping his head from my
throbbing overstimulated clit, “We haven’t left your house in
three days.”
“Not true. You left yesterday to get some clothes from your
place.” He mumbles, fighting my grip on his hair, his lips
brushing against my stomach making me squirm beneath
him.
I groan softly as Peaches jostles the bed, trying desperately
to slip back into my dream. Wetness pools between my legs
as I focus there. An incredibly tempting memory to lose
myself in. Something brushes across my cheeks, and I wipe
it away.
Go on Peaches.
Peaches?
My eyes fly open as a large hand clamps down on my
mouth, muffling my scream. I start to claw at the hand as
the masked man peers down at me, unmoved by my efforts.
His dark brown eyes look more akin to obsidian voids as
they bore into me. I don’t need to hear his voice to know
who this is.
My tormentor.
The man that has been fighting Liam for the slot in all my
dreams. I scream again as I’m jerked from the bed. He
throws me to the ground, pain erupts in my knees and
palms as I collide with the hardwood. “Stop!” He laughs,
that unnatural maniacal laugh you’d hear echoing down the
darkened halls of an asylum. I push myself to my feet, all
too aware of his proximity as he grips my hair, sending me
back to the floor, “Be a good girl for me and stay put, okay?
Things will be a lot easier that way.”
A sob leaves my throat as I push myself up again. There’s
something in his deep heavily accented voice that makes
me want to listen to him.
To obey.
“You can never just fucking listen. Such a brat.”
I turn to face him, his black long-sleeved shirt and black
pants matching everything else on him. “If you leave right
now, I swear I won’t tell anyone.” My voice comes out shaky
and unsure, but I mean it. I won’t tell, just please. Please
don’t let him hurt me.
I would do anything to stop this.
I step backwards as he steps forward, slamming my back
into my dresser. I suck in a rough breath as a sharp pain
flares in my lower back. He lunches forward, jerking a
plastic bag tightly over my head as he pulls me down to the
floor. Another scream, and another and another.
“See what you made me do? If you’d have only listened to
me, I wouldn’t have to hurt you Layla.”
I frantically try to free myself as the bag sucks into my
mouth with every desperate pant, the heat from my breath
making the air inside the bag feel moist and heavy. I feel
him jerk my hands against the cool hardwood, pinning them
underneath his knees. His legs locking me in as he straddles
me, indifferent to my panicked struggling. My vision starts
to dot as my head goes light before he jerks the bag free. I
suck in another deep breath, this one far more satisfying
than its predecessors. He wrenches my legs apart, exposing
the dampness between them to the cool air. “Are you ready
to listen, baby?”
My sob sounds more like a half scream as I nod my head,
forcing my body to go still underneath him, “What do you
want?” I can’t tear my eyes from the sleek onyx mask
molded to his face, covering his entire head. Holes revealing
his eyes and a slit mouth the only things making it seem,
human . It would be unsettling even in the best situations.
This is not that.
“I just want to be next to you, to keep you safe. Is that such
a bad thing?” He whispers as he presses his masked
forehead to mine. He slowly grips my wrists in his, jerking
them above my head as he pins them there. I gasp as he
pushes his hard cock against me. The length feels like a
threat. It is a threat.
Oh God.
“This is your fault, Layla. You made me do this. I didn’t want
things to go this way, but you left me no choice. You didn’t
answer my calls or texts. What else was I supposed to do?”
He trails his warm lips down my face, his tongue darting out
through the slit in the mask and licking my tear-stained
cheeks. There’s something so familiar in the action a shiver
breaks out across my spine. He groans as he continues
downwards, my breath coming in heavy.
I can’t feel. I can’t think. PLEASE JUST STOP.
I gasp as he bites down gently on my neck, sucking the
flesh into his mouth. Another sob leaves my throat as he
does the same on the opposite side, lightly teasing the
sensitive flesh with his tongue before he pulls away. His dark
eyes find mine, his masked face illuminated by the dim light
of my salt lamp that sits on the dresser. The light doing
nothing to protect from this monster. He’s not the type from
the movies, he’s real.
“Do you like that?”
Do I? No.
I shake my head, too scared to speak, as if my vocalization
will only make it worse. He adjusts himself, releasing one of
my hands before he reaches between my legs. I jerk against
his vice like hold on my wrists, crying out as he dips two
fingers inside me. He pumps them in and out slowly,
rubbing my clit with his palm as arousal seeps out from
around his fingers, my body and brain on two dreadfully
different wavelengths. More tears fall as he snickers, if you
can call a bitter sound like that anything close to laughter,
extracting himself to show me my body’s betrayal. “You can
deny it all you want, but your body is telling me a different
story. It knows it needs me.” The words sound like a prayer
from his lips.
A vow.
“Please let me go.”
He smirks, popping his arousal soaked fingers into his
mouth, through the slit in the mask, “You taste far too sweet
for that.” I suck in a sharp breath, hating how my body
reacts to him, hating this, hating him. Hating my stupid
body.
What kind of fucking person gets off on this? Am I getting off
on this?
He jerks something from his side. My lungs seize when the
glint of moonlight reflects off the large blade. He brings it to
my lips, pressing it against them softly. The metal should be
cool but it’s not its warm like it’s been pressed against him,
“I’m going to let go of your hands now don’t make me hurt
you.” I nod as my chest heaves, refusing to let me be half as
still as I feel I should be right now. He leans up, his hardened
cock straining against his dark jeans as he slides the cool
blade deliberately down the column of my neck. “Is that the
knife you used… when you killed James?” I whisper, the
question leaving my mouth before I can stop it.
“Don’t fucking talk about him!” He yells, making me flinch
as he stabs the knife deep into the floor beside my neck. I
shake, whimpering as he wiggles it free of the floorboard.
Bringing his free hand up to caress my cheek. Something
inside me, deep beneath his disgusting hand tightens,
something bizarre and wrong. Something that shouldn’t be
here. The way he touches me is so frantic, yet tender.
This person… is insane, ill. And so are you for reacting this
way.
I jerk my face away from him, squeezing my eyes shut.
“Don’t be mad at me baby, I shouldn’t have yelled at you.
I…I just can’t stand hearing you talk about anyone else. He
could never have taken care of you like I do. Made you feel
what I can.” His deep voice comes out desperate as he dips
his head, briefly pressing his thick plastic forehead to mine.
To my horror, my heart sputters in my chest.
Take care of me like you do?
He lifts the low neckline of my plum slip nightgown, pressing
the blade to it just above my breasts, “Now be still, I don’t
want to cut you.” I gasp as he jerks the blade down, slicing
through my nightgown like butter. For a moment I’m sure
he’s cut me, but no pain follows, only the weight of his eyes
settling on me. Embarrassment floods in, making my cheeks
flush as the fabric slips off my skin the rest of the way,
exposing me to him. My arms instinctively jerk to cover
myself, accidentally slicing my forearm against the blade. I
suck in a sharp gasp, the burning in my skin feels no worse
than the rest of the situation. He slightly tilts his head to the
side, taking in the blood welling from the wound before
bringing the blade up his face. As if it hadn’t occurred to him
he could actually cut me. His dark brown eyes meet mine as
he smirks, gently running his tongue down the blade, licking
it free from my blood. My stomach rolls in protest. He
holsters the knife again as I glance over at the door.
It would only take a second. If I caught him off guard.
“Don’t even look at the fucking door. I was just beginning to
trust you again, after all.” My tears start anew, although I
hadn’t even realized they had ever stopped in the first
place. He bends down caging me against the u forgiving
floor as he takes in my body slowly, savoring me and
stopping at my face. I can’t imagine the mess he must see
there. I rapidly blink my eyes, trying to clear my tear blurred
vision.
“You look so pretty when you cry. How about I make this up
to you, huh?” He asks, bending back down and sucking my
hardened nipple into his mouth. I jerk against him as his
fingers find their way down my stomach to my clit. He flicks
my nipple with his tongue as he holds it between his teeth.
The pain mixing with pleasure as he massages my throbbing
bud with purpose.
“Please stop.” I whimper as I lift my hips towards him and
then away, digging my tailbone into the floor. He releases
my nipple as he bites roughly into my breasts, sucking on
the flesh of each one until he leaves a dark hickey in his
wake. He slips down further, removing his hand from my sex
before continuing the painstaking process down my body.
Marking me.
Bite, suck, lick.
“Why are you doing this?” I ask, only half wanting an
answer. My body trembling violently beneath him.
“If I didn’t mark you, how would everyone know to stay
away?’
His lips graze right above my clit as he bites down, more
gently than he did on the others. I whimper, pushing myself
into him, my sex wantonly seeking release as he lowers
himself so that he’s nestled just above my sex. “So fucking
beautiful, baby.” He moans, his accent resonating in my
core, his hot breath splaying across my throbbing skin. His
tongue flicks out, teasing my clit before he lifts his mask
slightly, the thick plastic pulls harder against the back of his
head as he uncovers his mouth. I strain my neck, trying to
get a better look when he sucks hard at my clit, forcing a
moan from my lips. “Stop it please.”
He doesn’t respond as waves of pleasure jerk through my
body. I unceremoniously grind into him giving myself over to
the sickening arousal until I feel myself tighten, warmth
spreading over my extremities.
This is wrong.
He licks, sucks and tongues my sex like it’s all he’s ever
wanted. I feel myself clench around his tongue. My orgasm
ripping through me, not able to stop myself from crying out
as my legs start to shake. He shows no signs of stopping
until a second wave of heat and white-hot soul binding
pleasure barrels through me.
“Liam.” I moan, his blue eyes and freckled face forcing itself
to the front of my mind. I feel the man go still as my heart
stops dead in my chest. Panic taking over again, and I
welcome it. This stops. Now. Everything in my body screams
one thing.
Run.
I slam my knee into the side of his head, knocking him off
balance as I scramble to my feet sprinting for the door, the
soreness momentarily forgotten. I don’t look behind me,
hearing him right himself as I jerk it open, running into the
hallway sliding on the hallway runner. I scream as I feel his
boot connect with the back of my knee with brutal
efficiency, making it buckle painfully as I fall against the
banister.
“Fucking brat.” He mutters as he bends, grabbing my ankles
and dragging me back into the bedroom. My nails scrape
across the hardwood. They bend and snap but I don’t care. I
kick and jerk wildly, too scared to feel embarrassed about
my reaction to him or my stark nudity anymore.
“Why do you have to make things so fucking difficult for
us?” He asks me calmly, as if this is a perfectly normal
thing. My stomach churns as I realize for him…it might be.
“Get out! Get out now! Let me go!” I scream as he tosses
me onto my bed, blood still leaking from the cut on my arm.
He walks to the dresser, opening up my underwear drawer.
My heart stills when I hear the rattle of my sleeping pills
against the walls of the bottle.
He knew exactly where to look.
“You’ve been inside my house before?” I cry, scooting back
against my headboard, tugging my knees tightly to my
chest, trying to ward off the trembling. “Who are you?” I
demand, feigning strength that I certainly do not have. He
doesn’t answer as he walks into my bathroom, filling a cup I
keep next to the sink. My muscles jerk with the impulse to
run, but the pain in my battered body keeps me in place.
Stupid fucking girl. Run.
He tosses the bottle at me as he holds out the cup, “Take
three.” I shake my head, slapping the bottle from the bed
into the floor. I watch his knuckles go white as his hand
tightens around the glass. He slams it on the bedside table
gripping my chin tightly in his hand, “You insisted on being a
fucking brat. Now take the damn pills or I’ll carve up your
pretty face so badly only I’ll be able to love it.” I swallow
hard, sobbing as he shoves me away from him, bending and
grabbing the bottle before removing three pills himself.
“Please don’t, I don’t like how they make me feel. Please.” I
beg him, hating how pitiful it feels.
All these years and you’re still that weak, pathetic girl.
You’re a victim and you’ll never be anything else.
“This is your fault. You did this.” He leans over, grabbing my
chin as I force my lips together as tightly as I can, trying to
shove him off of me. He grips my ankles, jerking my legs
free from my grasp and pulling me down towards him. I
shake my head frantically as he crawls onto the bed
slamming me back and straddling me. His fingers digging
into my cheeks so hard pain radiates through my jaw,
forcing my mouth open. I whimper as he shoves the pills
deep into my mouth. Making me gag around his fingers, the
taste of my arousal lingering on his skin. “Be a good girl and
swallow.”
I try not to, I really do.
“See, that wasn’t so bad, was it?” He asks, handing me the
cup of water, letting me sit up slightly. I take it while my
hands shake, making some of the liquid slosh out over the
rim. I watch it splatter to my blood smeared sheets, “What
are you going to do to me?” I ask, trying to steady my
hands. He gently takes it from me, his fingers lightly teasing
the back of my hand before he lifts it to my lips. Letting me
drink heavily from it. I didn’t realize how thirsty I was.
“I’m going to take care of you, Layla. That’s all I want.”
I lift my head, staring at the tall dark figure on top of me.
Wishing those words meant nothing. That they didn’t make
my heart race with something entirely different from fear,
although there’s no small amount of that there too.
“If I asked you why, would you tell me?” I whisper, as he
reaches forward, wiping my tears from my eyes with his
sleeve. The fabric feels nice against my swollen and puffy
face.
“Everything about you calls to me.” He answers with so
much seriousness it takes me aback.
“Then tell me who you are.”
He doesn’t respond as he bends, kissing me so gently it
makes my skin prickle. He keeps his lips there, almost as if
he’s willing me to know the answer. As he pulls back, I stare
into his dark brown eyes, trying to.
How can you not know someone that feels so familiar?
He brings his large hand to the back of my head, laying me
down gently against the pillows. Trails his fingers down my
nude body as if he’s memorizing every imperfection, every
flaw, every curve until he stops at my arm taking in the
wound there. I feel my eyelids droop as my breathing starts
to even out for the first time since I woke up to him. I strain
to keep my eyes open as he gently runs his fingers along
my skin, soothingly.
Just like Liam did.
My heart flutters as I try to sit up abruptly, his large hand
pushing me back down by my chest. He just stares at me
unbothered as I weakly struggle against him. He hums that
creepy old song, his voice sounds… different now.
Can you tell that from a hum?
After I surrender to the heaviness in my limbs, he resumes
running his bloody fingers up and down my arm, leaving
goosebumps in his wake.
Liam?

OceanofPDF.com
L iam
God, she’s beautiful.
I tear my eyes away from my sweet Layla as her bare chest
rises and falls slowly. She’ll be out for a while. I hate that I
had to use her sleeping pills against her. They always make
her groggy the next day, especially three of them. Knowing
her, she’ll overcompensate with caffeine then be extra
anxious. I hate that she’ll have to deal with all the emotion
that will follow this alone.
I hate that this won’t be the last time I do this to her.
I much prefer my little star awake and kicking. I’ve spent the
last few months watching from the outside, not being able
to interact with her in any meaningful way. Stuck doing
smaller, insignificant things she didn’t notice. All the times
I’ve cleaned a dish, taken out the trash, she lets overflow
until it’s about to burst. The new pairs of underwear I’ve
placed in her drawer.
Granted, it was only right, since I keep taking her old ones.
I lift off the thick mask as my cock throbs painfully.
Fuck, that thing is uncomfortable.
It’s well worth getting to touch her, taste her…I nearly
erupted in my pants watching her pant underneath me. I
toss my mask to the side, walking from the room and letting
Peaches back in before she clambers downstairs completely
oblivious to everything that just went on. Taking my time
walking back into the bedroom, closing the door behind me
softly and heading into the, dated ensuite bathroom.
Smiling to myself as I take another long look at Layla, her
curly ash brown hair scattered about the pillow. Her tight
cunt still glistening from her arousal. I pull my eyes from
her, staring at myself in the mirror, my freckled face and
messy copper hair damp from sweat. I groan as I look down
at her blood plastering my hands.
She’s mine. She said my name.
I glance back into the bedroom, her full parted lips
beckoning me. Jerking out my cock, barely resisting the urge
to slip it into her soft warm mouth. Gripping the base of my
hardened length, watching the way the half-dried blood on
my hands paint my cock with her essence.
Her blood.
I pump myself harder, faster.
She moaned my name. Called out for me as she came apart
in my mouth.
The way her breasts heaved as she fought against me,
pushing her wet cunt into me, smearing her arousal down
the front of my jeans. I hear a faint murmur come from the
bedroom, my heart sputtering as a bead of come forms on
the head of my blood smeared cock. I glance in as she rolls
to her stomach, pushing her ass up as she brings one of her
smooth ivory legs up.
“Fuck Layla,” My body forces the words from my lips. I don’t
bother with the accent, she’s too far gone to hear me. I feel
my cock thicken as I brace myself on the doorframe,
watching her sleep, rocking my hips in and out of my hand. I
groan as I erupt, my come roping out across the bedroom
floor, letting my forehead meet the doorframe. Taking deep
steadying breaths, I wipe a fingertip across the head of my
cock, making myself jerk as I tease the sensitive flesh there.
I step over the mess I made, heading to her side, leaning
over the bed.
Those fucking lips.
I can’t help the smirk that falls across my face as I gently
run my come across her full pink lips. I tuck myself back in
and lay down right there beside her. Right where I should be
every night. Watching as the moonlight bleeds across her
soft skin. My heart aches knowing this can’t last, that I can’t
sleep beside the beautifully frustrating woman that holds
my heart captive in her hands. I groan as I stand from the
bed, my face aching from where she kneed me earlier.
Sweet dreams, little star.
Layla
“Hey, let’s get you some hot tea, okay?” Ava whispers the
way you would when trying to coax a stray cat into your car.
Her hand finally stops the laps it was making as she rubbed
my back for the past hour.
Your arm has got to be killing you.
Officer Daniels steps into view, disrupting my mindless
staring at the black TV screen, reflecting a face I recognize
as both mine and unfamiliar to me. “Miss. Burke, we’re
nearly done here. Are you sure you won’t take a trip to the
hospital? If what you’re telling us is- “
“If what she’s telling you is true?” Ava cuts him off,
stomping back in from the kitchen, tea bag in hand. “You’ve
got to be kidding me. She was assaulted in her home for
fucks sake and you have the audacity to talk to her like
she’s lying?” Her small fists are balled up in anger.
Please don’t punch a cop in my house.
“Ava, it’s fine.”
“No its really not.” She scoffs, crossing her arms as she
stares down the officer. Who looks just as skeptical of my
story as the first night I met him. Not that I can blame him
this time. There is no evidence apart from the doctored cut
on my arm and the delicate tennis bracelet I woke up
wearing.
He did exactly what he said he would, cared for me.
I woke up this afternoon with a piercing headache, a
doctored arm and a freshly cleaned house. He had even
cleaned me up…. down there. My cheeks flush florescent
red, despite the numbness deep in my chest. I should be
disgusted and I am, but mostly with myself.
What right do I have to be upset when I enjoyed his touch?
When the things he murmured in my ear instilled in me both
blinding fear and butterflies?
I watch as the last of the police trickle out of my house,
Officer Daniels steering clear of Ava as she prattles around
in the kitchen. Thankfully, nobody sounded incredibly pissed
when I called into work letting them know I won’t be in the
next day or two. “Here, careful it’s hot.” Ava says from
beside me as she hands me the cup. I grip it tightly as the
sides burn the palms of my hands, my head still a little fuzzy
from the sleeping pills. “Why don’t you let me run you a
bath?”
I shake my head, sitting the tea down on the worn coffee
table. “I’m fine Ava. Really.”
“You’re in shock.” She insists.
But I’m not. I suppose I’m not really fine either. I’m upset
and angry. I’m humiliated and scared. I’m also… curious.
Which scares me more than any of it.
“I swear I’m okay. You’re already late for work.”
“I am not leaving you here. Are you fucking insane? Layla,
you were attacked. You can’t just bottle it up like everything
else. Call your therapist or I will. You have to-“
I groan snapping my head forward burying my face in my
hands, “I think- God I can’t say it out loud– he felt so familiar
Ava. His touch felt familiar.” She rounds the couch, plopping
down beside me before tucking her feet underneath her,
“Do you think it’s Liam?”
Maybe.
“No, this man had a thick accent and brown eyes.” I say, not
removing my face from my hands.
“You said you didn’t think he wanted to hurt you.” I can hear
the skepticism in her voice, I know it makes no sense
because he did hurt me. But he also made me feel good. He
cleaned me, doctored my wounds, changed the bloody
sheets.
He cared for me.
“Yeah, he was aggressive, sure, but soft.” I peek out at her
between my fingers. Her pretty eyes look duller than usual.
She’s stressed. About me. I hate seeing her like this,
especially knowing it’s my fault.
“The security company said they would be here by this
evening. I’m staying until then at the very least. I’d much
rather you come home with me.”
I nod, knowing it’s no use arguing with her. My phone rings
for the twentieth time today. I know it’s him and so does
she. The silence in the room apart from the jarring ring is fat
and unforgiving. I can tell it’s freaking her out. I want to turn
it off. I want to shove the fucking thing down the garbage
disposal, but what happens if I do? Would he hurt the people
I care for? Hurt me?
Just another thing to feel sorry for.
I lean over as she picks up the TV remote, flipping through
Netflix as I lay my head down on the pillow next to her.
Letting her run her fingers through my hair, the hair he
detangled while I slept. Mindful not to just brush through the
curls. I don’t want her to touch me, it feels… overwhelming
but I don’t say anything. She needs the comfort too.
Shoving my hands into the pocket of my dark purple hoodie
I run my shaking fingers over the note he left me.
You should be more observant.
I left you this bracelet over a week ago.
I’ll see you soon, lítla ást.
Little love in Icelandic. I’ve never even left the state of
California. How in the absolute fuck I stole the attention of a
stalker that speaks Icelandic well enough to have a heavy
accent is beyond me. When Ava finds something mind
numbing enough to watch, she tosses the remote to the
other end of the couch and gets to work absent-mindedly
braiding and twisting at my hair. All I can think about is how
badly I wish she’d leave. How badly I want to run to Liam, to
throw myself into his arms and point him in the direction of
the man that’s tormenting me.
I’m a hypocrite, a freak, and a terrible friend.
Layla, Fourteen Years Old
The roof of the trailer groans as I adjust against the hard
metal where I’ve been laying on it, staring up at the sky and
pretending I can see the stars.
Stupid clouds.
I’m bored as shit, but anything is better than going inside
and being screamed at for literally just existing. Even now I
can hear him moving around inside, his heavy steel toe
boots knocking against the clutter as he stumbles around.
He tried to apologize to me this morning. I told him it was
okay.
We both know it wasn’t.
I lift my legs from where they dangled off the side of the
house, staring at the deep purple bruise forming on my
thigh. Nothing like getting woken up by to being kicked by
steel toe boots, all because he forgot to pay the water bill
again. I know grandpa gave him money for it. I also know
within the hour dad shot it straight up his arm. My chest
aches when I think of grandpa. His house used to be my
safe place, my solace away from this hell hole of a trailer
park. Too scared to walk around outside at night knowing
the heated stare of our neighbor, my father’s dealer Jeremy
lingers on my skin.
I miss when he just used to drink.
At least heroin keeps him mostly docile. It’s scary though.
It’s been years since he picked up the new habit and I still
haven’t gotten used to seeing him like that. The way he
groans and his eyes roll back in his skull, his mouth lagging
open as drool trickles from the corners of his mouth. I’m no
longer allowed at grandpa’s because dad is scared I might
ask for help. I guess that makes sense. Grandpa has always
been one of the few that isn’t fooled by his masks, the
different faces he wears. He can go from the stand-up fun
loving yet firm father and the next minute make my life so
fucking hellish I contemplate ending it all together.
Just a few more years I can go to college. I can be a
journalist, expose liars and assholes just like him. Maybe
even people worse than him. It’s hard to imagine there are
people worse, but I know that’s just me being dramatic.
Thud!
I jump, making the metal roof dig into my back as a loud
sound comes from inside the trailer, he probably passed
out. A sliver of anxiety stirs within me. Why do I care? I’ve
seen it a hundred times before. I should go check on him. I
take a deep breath as I sit up. The metal from the roof
scrapes along the back of my thighs as I lower down onto
the railing, but I don’t care. I’m already the “gross” girl at
school.
Even that’s only when someone actually bothers to look at
me.
I steady myself as I press my ear to the back door. Only the
TV playing faintly comes through the wood. No weird
groaning or mumbling passing through the paper thin door. I
twist the nob entering the house, careful not to make a
sound. It’s just out of habit, even though I’m sure he’s
probably far too fucked up to fight with me tonight. My
blood runs cold as my eyes land on dad laying on his back
on the kitchen floor, the smell of old food and stale carpet
churning my stomach the way it always does.
Oh shit.
I walk slowly to him. His eyes are open, staring at nothing at
all. The smell of vomit hits me as I get closer, he doesn’t
look good. His tanned skin is blue and ashy. His breath
coming in as strangled pants.
I need to get help.
I kneel beside him, pressing my hand to his clammy face.
His skin is tacky and weird. Like skin on a plucked turkey.
“Dad?”
No answer.
I shake him a little, which makes him groan, and makes me
flinch even though I know rationally I’m not the one in
danger. I stand quickly, running over to the home phone
before returning to his side. I’m about to call for help when I
pause. The silence in the room stretches on and on as I
watch his chest rise and fall, getting slower and weaker with
each breath. I nearly jump out of my skin when his eyes
flutter open. I quickly kneel beside him, dialing the
numbers. Doing the right thing even though my fingers feel
like lead weights.
9…
1…
Slap!
A squeak leaves my mouth as dad slaps the phone from my
hands, his dark brown eyes trained on me although I don’t
think he’s actually looking at me at all. The glassy tint to his
eyes tells me he’s somewhere far from the smelly trailer
we’re trapped inside. An iron like grip forms around my
small wrist, and I brace myself for pain that doesn’t come.
We sit like that for a while as his grasp weakens bit by bit.
As my ridiculous tears fall he slips further and further away.
I fight the urge to shake his hand off and hold it tightly in
mine. Why am I crying? Why does this hurt so badly? The
number of times I’ve begged the universe to take him… now
that it’s happening, I just want to take it all back but I can’t.
He’s dead and I’m free.
I’m finally free.
Liam
I tip back the rest of my absinthe, closing my eyes as the
earthy liquor slides down my throat. It’s been damn near
impossible to come down since last night. Going on little to
no sleep, trying to distract myself from the high Layla gives
me. I try to affix my attention on the ninety-eight-inch TV
screen in front of me. None of the pictures moving around
on it can keep my interest for longer than a minute at a
time. My gaze slides to my phone that lays face down on the
table. I don’t mean to pick it up. Nor do I mean to pull up the
app I use to monitor the cameras in her house. My pulse
thuds like a steam engine when the loading screen blimps to
a black one.
Error cameras offline.
The security company she used must’ve found them. I lock
the screen as my hand tightens around my phone, my
reflection taunting me. Now why would you go and do a
thing like that, baby? After everything we shared last night.
It was perfect, you were perfect.
Now you’ve gone and messed it all up.
Crack!
“Stop that,” Brandon’s voice pulls me from my homicidal
thoughts, his arm outstretched, pointing at me. His headset
still positioned firmly on his head. I raise my eyebrows at
him. I know that if I speak now, I’ll say something…
incorrect. Not that he would particularly care, Brandon is
one of the few that know me. Despite his complaining, it’s
never bothered him much either way.
“I can’t focus with your Ted Bundy looking ass over there.”
He complains, gesturing to the video game he’s playing.
The blue LED’s surrounding my TV makes my inky living
room look even darker.
“You could always go to your house.”
His mouth drops open as he jerks off the headset, “This
game only came out a few hours ago! I’ve hardly had
adequate game time. Your TV is bigger.”
I finally release my phone, curling my lip up at the cracked
screen, grateful for his annoying and effective distraction
technique.
“You’re a millionaire. Buy one for yourself.”
“That’s a waste of money! Yours is perfectly fine, plus I can
keep an eye on you here.”
I roll my eyes. The amount of alcohol I’ve consumed hitting
me all at once as I stand, “I sign your paychecks, you can
afford it.”
“Not everyone grew up sounding with silver rods asshole.”
He grumbles as I cringe inwardly. That’s a visual I’ll never be
able to purge from my mind. That was also the last time I
ever let myself into Brandon’s house unannounced. He’s not
wrong though. Despite all of their outward appearances, the
Remus family never actually had much money. It was all an
elaborate front, loans and empty handouts, especially after
his dad bailed and fled to Cuba. Leaving his wife and son to
drown in debt they didn’t know they had. It was around that
time that we met. He was only five and stupid as all fuck,
but he was fun to be around and the only friend I ever really
had.
It wasn’t until my cunt of a mother mocked his parents’
financial situation in front of him years later that he figured
out anything was even wrong. Not that she’s ever done a
damn thing to earn money apart from living with the Curran
name and spreading her legs for any wealthy man willing to
give her a second glance. Our money is old and endless.
Grandmother died a few months after I rejected my trust,
my namesake.
“You did this! You killed her, you pathetic, vindictive boy.”
I crack my neck, the pop earning me another glare from
Brandon as I pour more dark liquid into a globe shaped
glass. He spent the first money he earned with Curran
Enterprises to bail out his mom. He’s bought her a house
and paid for her to live ever since. The idea is so…off
putting to me. There’s not a day that goes by that I don’t
think of killing the woman that birthed me.
It’s been that way since that day. Maybe even before.
“Hey! Where are you going?” Brandon calls as I tip back the
glass, finishing my fifth…sixth cup of absinthe. I don’t look
back at him as I discard it on my kitchen counter, grabbing
my keys.
“I have shit to do.”
“The hell you do, you’re drunk.” He says, removing his
headset and jogging to my side.
Maybe. Probably.
The room tilts as I open up the front door, sighing deeply
before tossing my keys at him. “Okay then, you drive.”
His eyes widen before narrowing, “I am not helping you
stalk your ex.”
She’s not my fucking ex.
I take another deep breath resisting the urge to slam my
skull into his. I’ve fought Brandon enough times to know I
probably won’t win drunk. He’s a big guy, always has been.
His bulk frame was established long before he started
spending countless hours in the gym on his gains as he cls
them.
“You drive or I do.”
He groans, running his bear claw hands down his face, “If
we get caught, I am one hundred percent ratting you out.”
“You’re staying in the car.” I mutter as we head towards my
detached garage. Arming my security system from my
phone. I trust him with my life, but I’d open up his belly with
my knife before I’d ever let him inside her home. Let him or
anyone else torment her like this. No, this is special
between Layla and I. It’s only for us. Does she know that?
She took out the cameras. She could be doing anything.
With anyone.
My heart starts to race as a sick feeling spills into my gut,
mixing with the alcohol in a way that makes my stomach
twist and flip on itself. I blink my eyes as the fluorescent
lights flicker on, making me squint.
Those contacts are going to be a bitch tonight.
“What the fuck is that?” Brandon asks, gawking at the old
beater car with its rusted paint nestled between my street
bike and Audi. I don’t have time to respond before he hits
unlock, making the rust bucket come to life. Its ripped cloth
seats smell like a wet cigarette. He makes a repulsed face
as we get in, making me chuckle despite myself, “What
happened to that humble attitude of yours?”
“Does the stereo work at least?” He asks as I grab my
hoodie and mask from the backseat. Removing the brown
contacts from the center console. I lean up, pressing the
power button as I Don’t Like Change by Roar fills the
scratchy half blown speakers of the car.
I Can’t Handle Change by Roar
Layla
My heart leaps from my chest as I jolt awake in bed, the
sound of the hundred and fifty decibel siren blaring
throughout the house. I don’t think when I scramble from
the covers gripping the gun I now keep on my bedside table
tightly in my hands.
Smash!
A scream leaves my throat as a loud crash from downstairs
competes with the siren for the loudest thing in the house.
Creeping out of my bedroom slowly, fighting the urge to cup
my hands over my ears but they stay gripping the gun as
they shake.
Too fucking loud.
Smash!
“Peaches!” I yell, running down the stairs when she doesn’t
come. I know I’m supposed to stay hidden until the police
get here. I want to but I don't.
Smash!
All the sudden the alarm cuts off as my feet hit the bottom
step, my eyes landing on him. I move from the stairs
walking a little way from where he stands panting heavily, a
crowbar clutched tightly in his hands. My new shiny systems
hub smashed to pieces on the ground. I flinch as he lifts the
crowbar again, making the large hole in the wall even
bigger.
Smash!
Smash!
Smash!
“Stop!” I cry, ending his assault on my drywall mid swing,
his arms still lifted above his head exposing a sliver of toned
abs. He turns, noticing me for the first time, his brown eyes
glued to the gun I’m clutching. “I couldn’t see you. Why did
you do that?”
Tears pool in my eyes as my heart thumps loudly in my
chest, “You were spying on me.”
Where the fuck are the cops?
I jump as my cell phone rings, it’s the security company.
Judging by the look in his eyes, he knows that too. If I don’t
answer, they’ll send help if they aren’t already on their way.
He steps backwards, his eyes still trained on me as he rips
my phone from the charger on the kitchen counter beside
him. I feel dumber than ever for forgetting it down here.
“Don’t do something we both might regret, Layla.”
With that not at all chilling statement he tosses my phone to
me, I nearly drop the gun in my struggle to catch it.
I’m in control now, not you.
I shake my head no, letting the phone clatter to the
hardwood. “They’ll be here soon, go.”
Something deep, akin to a growl slips through the mask as
he rushes me, stopping in his tracks as I lift the gun,
switching off the safety. I can see his smirk from
underneath, it’s cold. So very fucking cold. “What are you
going to do with that, huh?” He takes a step closer,
“Nothing. You’re weak, too fucking weak to do shit.” His
accent isn’t as heavy this time, I’ve heard his voice on
repeat in my head every minute of every day since the very
first time.
“Don’t ever fucking shut me out again! I swear I’ll fucking
make you regret it Layla. I’ll kill everyone you know,
everyone! I’ll take you, this freedom you think you have, I
can take it. I need you.” He drops the crowbar, closing the
distance quickly before jerking the gun from my shaking
hands, his words slurring.
He’s drunk. Really drunk.
I gasp as my back hits the banister of the stairs his warm
body pressed against mine. My nipples taunt underneath
the light t-shirt I’m wearing, they brush against his chest as
we both breathe heavily. I can hear the sirens in the
distance, and my anxiety doubles, making my chest ache
and palms sweat.
“I need you.” He groans, pressing his masked forehead into
mine, “Is this want you want?”
What?
My heart stills as he cocks the gun pressing the cold metal
underneath my chin. The angle is awkward unnatural like it
would hurt to hold it that way, “Please stop. I’m sorry.”
He laughs but there’s no humor there, “No, you’re fucking
not, but you will be. God, you will be.”
But I am. I really am.
I whimper as he presses the gun harder against my skin,
“Please.”
“Shhh, don’t be scared, baby. I would never make you die
alone. I’ll come with you. There’s no me without you, Layla
Burke. There’s no you without me.”
Think. Think. God fuck think.
Tears slip down my cheeks as my shaking hands wrap
around him, clutching him to me tightly. He exhales a shaky
breath as his finger moves to the trigger.
Oh, my god.
“Do you love me?” He asks. All I can hear is the fast
approaching sirens.
I don’t want to die and I don’t want him to die either.
“I don’t…I don’t know you.” I answer honestly. There’s
something to him, something in his touch that feels right.
Comforting. Even now.
I need help. Serious fucking help.
I whimper again, the sound laced with something bizarre
and fear so much fear as his lips press into mine, he adjusts
the angle of the gun, “Yes, you do.”
“Tell me. Tell me who you are, please.”
He adjusts the angle again, pushing it so hard that my skin
screams in protest.
Oh.
He’s holding it like that, so the bullet… hits us both. I let go
of him as he presses light kisses into the tip of my nose,
“You know the answer to that Layla, you just won’t fucking
admit it.” I pull back, looking into his familiar deep brown
eyes, searching. I flinch as tires peel against the gravel of
my driveway.
They’re here.
Panic takes over me, but for an entirely different reason. A
bad reason.
I want…to protect him.
He’s unwell, he… loves me. Right? “If you go off the left side
of the balcony, they won’t see you. You can cut straight into
the woods.” His dark eyes widen as he removes the gun
from my chin, pressing it into my hand.
“See you soon lítla ást. ” He says before he takes off for the
stairs just as the police bang on the front door.
“Miss. Burke! Are you in there?”
I quickly let down the hammer of the gun, slipping on the
safety. My head throbs as I struggle to make sense of my
own actions. It all could’ve ended right here.
Why did I let him go? Am I that fucking desperate for love?
I knew my dad fucked me up, but damn Layla. I want to
know who he is, why he’s doing this. Why me?
You’re scared of the answer.
Liam…
I shake my head trying to collect myself as I open up the
front door, typically being greeted by officers with guns
drawn might have scared the shit out of me but right now
staring at the bright flashing scene in front of me…I’m
numb.

OceanofPDF.com
Layla
B y the time Friday rolls around, I’m not only ignoring his
calls but Ava’s as well. Whatever he’s trying to do. Whatever
effect he wanted to have on me worked perfectly. I don’t
feel like going out. I don’t want to speak to anyone. All of
my thoughts revolve around him. Who is he? Why me? What
could he possibly achieve by tormenting me? I drove past
Curran Enterprises three times this week. Hoping the sleek
exterior of the tall building would offer some answers,
reminding myself why barging in and demanding them
wasn’t a good idea. I can’t shake the familiarity I feel when
I’m with him. He feels…good. Impossibly good. The only
person who ever felt like that was Liam. It just doesn’t make
sense, none if it does. I sit in my car staring at the rows of
cold headstones, not really sure why I’m even fucking here.
I haven’t felt the need to visit him since that day. Nor have I
been to see the good, kind man laid to rest beside him. Both
of them altered the course of my life in ways I’ll never crawl
back from. Just like he is doing now.
Layla, Age Fourteen
My heart soars as I bring the last of my bags into the old
farmhouse I’ll now call home. I can’t help but smile, all the
best memories are in this house away from dad. Now I get
to live here forever. And he’s gone, forever. I know there
should be more grief associated with losing a parent, but it
comes and goes. One moment I’ll feel glad he’s dead,
relieved that there will be no more screaming. No more
walking on eggshells, wondering what thing will set him off.
The next moment all I can see is the light leave his glossy
brown eyes and I can’t stop the tormenting flood of guilt
that hits me soon after.
You made a big girl decision Layla, that comes with big girl
consequences. Big girl feelings. Deal with it.
“Want something to eat, kiddo?” Grandpa asks, leaning his
pot belly against the kitchen counter. I wipe the smile from
my face before turning around and meeting his familiar
brown eyes. Only this version of those eyes are filled with
warmth and love, not disgust and hatred. I’ll never
understand how such a kind gentle person could have
raised the woman hating son of a bitch that was my father
“Yes sir.” I say quietly, sitting down at the table as he
rummages through the fridge.
“I’ll admit I haven’t kept this place stocked nearly as well as
Veronica used to. Hell, that’s been so many years ago, it’ll
be nice having you around to keep me in check.” I don’t
need to see him to hear the smile in his voice as I pick at my
black nail polish underneath the table.
“What was grandma like?” I ask hesitantly. A question I
wouldn’t have dared mutter while dad was alive. Across the
country wouldn’t have felt like an adequate distance.
Grandpa emerges from the fridge with a Tupperware
container in hand, “Leftover pork steak, okay?”
I nod as he continues, “Veronica was the most beautiful
woman I’d ever laid my eyes on. She didn’t want a thing to
do with me at first.” He chuckles, grabbing a plate from the
cabinet.
“I wasn’t going to take no for an answer, respectfully, of
course. After our first date, she told me years later she went
home and wrote in her diary that she was going to marry
me. She was right. We had no idea how everything would
change though.” His features take a dark turn, giving me
goosebumps. I know I should mind my own business, but I
want to know. “What happened?”
He takes a deep breath, “I’m not surprised Roy never spoke
about her. The day she left us… it changed something in
him. Not stuff kids should hear about. Maybe when you’re
older.”
Disappointment fills my chest. There’s so much I don’t know.
About my dad’s life, why he was how he was to me. Why he
hated his mom, why that hate lead to years of abuse at his
hands. I look up from the table when I hear grandpa cross
the kitchen staring at me, “What did he do to you?” I can’t
help the shaking in my hands or the words that flow to the
tip of my tongue.
Nothing. Dad was great. Everything is fine. I slipped. Yes, I’m
eating okay. No, our water isn’t shut off. It’s just messed up
right now. Yeah, I had a shower this week.
I swallow them all, every last lie I’ve told for my entire life.
Since the first taste of his hatred, I’m going to tell the truth
and hope it doesn’t bite me on the ass.
“He hated me, I think, and mom. He screamed a lot when he
wasn’t too messed up to speak. He only hit me a handful of
times, usually just trashed the house.” I nearly whisper the
words, hoping they’ll disappear into the air before he can
hear them.
Roy Burke is dead and I’m still scared shitless of him.
Grandpa runs a hand down his wrinkled face, “I’m so sorry
Layla.” My heart stops beating as I look up from my chipped
polish, you’re sorry? You didn’t do anything. All my best
memories are when I was safe with you. That’s what I want
to say. I want to say it so badly, but I can’t. My mouth won’t
let me, as tears fill my already red eyes.
“I should’ve paid more attention. He was my son. I didn’t
want to think I had failed him so grossly. People wear many
faces Layla. If you leave it up to them to show you the
difference between them, you’ll always be in the dark.”
The tears break free from my eyes as I throw my arms
around him. Hugging him as tightly as I can.
“Mom used to always say that some people were just born
bad, that dad was one of those people. No amount of love
could change him. Please don’t be sorry. I’m here now with
you. Neither of us has to be alone anymore.” I mumble
against his t-shirt that smells like the outdoors and his
aftershave. He squeezes me back so tightly I fight the need
to groan, No we don’t… Let’s get you fed.”

By the time I leave the cemetery, I do so with a renewed

sense of purpose. Liam had many faces, which one was he
underneath it all? The real Liam… it’s something I’ve asked
myself since the first time he slipped up, let me see the cold
harsh side of the beautiful copper haired man. A side my
stalker seems to have as well.
It’s got to be Liam.
But why? Why do all of this? Why torment me? He didn’t
fight for me when he had the chance. Radio silence for three
months and now all of this?
Calm down, don’t get ahead of yourself. It’s a theory,
nothing more.
I glance at the garment bag hanging in the backseat of my
car where it taunts me, daring me to do something so
fucking stupid I might be breaking a personal record. Curran
Enterprises is hosting their annual charity gala on Sunday.
With everything going on and the prospect of seeing Liam
has my anxiety nearing nuclear levels. If I’m right, and Liam
is the one tormenting me…I’m putting myself directly inside
the lion’s den. If I’m wrong, I’m putting Liam in danger,
putting myself in danger either way. I’m done sitting around
and waiting for the police to do something. I’m tired of
waiting for his next assault, the next time I’ve somehow
wronged him.
It’s the process of elimination and so far, I only have one
suspect. As scary as the idea of Liam, the man I fell for. One
I trusted for six months turning on me like this, tormenting
me like this is… sickening and it makes my heart flutter in
my chest. But as horrifying as that would be, the idea of a
stranger…is worse. I pull up to the house and sit in my car,
staring at the place that used to feel so safe to me. My quiet
place where the anxiety of my day had to stay outside, not
that it ever really did. It was my escape from the world
when everything felt too ugly. Now he’s taken that from me.
I no longer feel safe here. More like a rat caught in a very
elaborate trap. My phone vibrates in the cup holder, making
my heart do strange things.
Unknown: Pretty dress. Hope you’re not planning
anything that might make me regret not painting you
red the other night.
Get fucked.

I dig the anxiety medication from my drawer, popping one

into my mouth as Peaches and I head out into the back
yard. The fact that only one remains in the bottle fills me
with even more anxiety, which seems incredibly
counterproductive. I had been doing okay without them for
a little. By okay, I mean I felt like I was dying over every
little thing slightly less. Now I can barely get through the
day without one. I know getting more will be a bitch,
considering I’ve canceled my last few appointments with my
therapist.
Stupid girl.
I just can’t bear the thought of sitting there and explaining
everything to someone else. Another person to look at me
with skepticism, making me wonder if I’ve truly lost it. It’s
unavoidable, eventually I’ll either go to an appointment or
have another fucking breakdown and be treated to an
involuntary grippy sock retreat. It wasn’t too long after I
moved in with grandpa that the weight of my actions came
down on me with a vengeance. It just got too heavy . Of
course, I never told anyone what I did, what he wanted me
to do for him, but it didn’t stop them from holding me in the
treatment center, deeming me a danger to myself. Even
with dad being the way he was, I never felt as isolated as I
did that month. The October breeze swirls around me as I
clench the old throw blanket tightly around myself. I spent
the better part of my night and now morning calling in
favors and digging around everything that is Liam Chase
Curran. Degrees, parking tickets, reading every article and
blurb I can get my hands on. I’ve pieced together all of his
depressingly impressive adult life, but nothing prepared me
for what I found when he was a child. A singular article
posted in an old newspaper nobody reads. That’s all it took
to make my heart soften for the little boy that he used to
be.
I should leave it alone, stop pressing, but even now my
phone buzzes with texts from him. Reminding me how little
choice I have. He’s not going to stop, the police won’t help
me and the possibility of the cause of my pain being Liam
is…high. As much as the thought sickens me.
I need to know.
I take a deep breath before unlocking my phone screen
again. My round, amber-colored eyes staring back at me.
Judging me for doing something… invasive. Two wrongs
don’t make a right. Having someone unseal an incident
report from when my ex was seven years old is definitely
not right. Furthermore, calling in a favor that was owed to
my old boss, who I got beat up and fired is also not right.
Whoever he is, he isn’t playing fair. So neither will I.
He hadn’t stopped to think of the consequences of his
actions or the ripple effect he’s caused. The lives destroyed
all for what? Me? Even if he stops today, I’ll never be the
same. Peaches pads up the steps laying down beside me.
Even now, I can feel his eyes on my skin, crawling over me
like spiders burrowing into my flesh.
He’s here. He’s always here.
I should go in, I should lock the doors and call the police.
Cry, sob and scream for help, but what good will it do? He
cares little for my cries. You wanted to be a journalist, you
wanted to expose liars. You have an opportunity to uncover
a truth someone hid from you. To possibly understand why
they acted the way they did, why they damaged you so
deeply.
Do it.
I let out a long breath as I hit send. I’ve definitely crossed a
line but then again if Liam is the one that’s been stalking
me, if he’s the one sending bolts of electricity coursing
through my veins as they watch from the darkened wood
line outside my home then I don’t care. If it’s not him, well
I’ll wear my new crazy ex badge with honor.
I could quit Blinked, I could sell this house, leave San
Francisco. Go out and try to be a real fucking journalist, like I
dreamed of when I was a kid. Blinked was never my end
game. I just got… comfortable. Liam always saw that in me,
held me accountable for my complacency. He pushed me to
be better, to do what I wanted, and I insisted I was. So
scared of being too vulnerable, looking childish in front of
the successful, wildly wealthy man that had it all.
I never knew…I had no clue the trauma that hid beneath his
controlled exterior.
If I left, he would follow me, of that I’m sure. I’m done
settling. He is a chapter of my life I need to close before I
can change anything, get a fresh start away from the pain
and bullshit. I could be anyone I wanted. Not Layla Burke,
daddy issue extraordinaire. Not this anxiety riddled shell of
a person I’ve become. Of course, logically I know moving
won’t change that, but maybe, just maybe, it might give me
a fucking chance. I make it a point to not look at the woods
as I stand calling Peaches in after me. Even as I reach for
the doorknob with shaking hands, I don’t glance at the
reflection that lies on the cold glass. I won’t give him the
satisfaction of seeing me struggle when I can bear it. I’ve
barely shut the door when my Alexa dot comes to life
blaring that song. The melody jars and assaults my
permanently frayed nerves as I stare outside the kitchen
window, looking straight at him. His tall figure at the edge of
the yard unmoving as my heart races in my chest.
“I know
you belong
To somebody
Somebody new
But tonight
You belong
to me.”
The ringing of my phone is nearly drowned out by the music
rattling the windows of my house. I know better than to not
answer. Not after I’ve ignored him for days, not while he’s
here staring at me. I don’t take my eyes off him as I raise
the phone to my ear. He does the same, mirroring my
movements in perfect synchronization. I thought seeing him
out here in the middle of the day would make him feel more
human. It doesn’t.
“I left you a gift. Upstairs on our bed.” His deep accented
voice sends chills down my spine and heat towards my core.
The adrenaline I feel overriding my need for self
preservation. “It’s my bed, not ours.” I whisper so softly
beneath the music anyone else would’ve missed it. I listen
to him softly hum along to the haunting song he chose for
us. His voice is so much more familiar when he hums. The
moment I cross the threshold of my bedroom, my heart
stops, “I thought I’d dress you in red for that little gala you’ll
be attending. I can’t wait to see you in it.”
“I’m not wearing that.” I run my fingers along the silky
fabric of the crimson floor-length gown draped across my
bed. My eyes sliding from the garment to the beautiful,
embroidered lingerie that lies beside it.
“You will. Turn around.”
I don’t want to. Please God, I don’t want to.
A pained whimper leaves my throat as I turn peering into
my bathroom. My feet move without my permission. Dozens
of pictures of Ava line my bathroom walls, at work, at her
penthouse apartment, with men and women. Pictures that
are intimate, when she’s unaware, from her phone.
“I swear to God if you hurt her.”
He laughs, that sickening laugh that forces bile to my throat,
“I haven’t…yet although it would fill me with no small
amount of pleasure to take someone that makes me fight
for your affections.”
“You’re fucking crazy.” I whisper as I sit the phone down on
speaker, jerking the photos of my best friend from the walls.
I did this. I put her in danger.
“Crazy about you lítla ást.”
I hate you. I fucking hate you.
Tears burn my eyes as I rip the last picture from the wall, my
breathing betraying my panic through the phone. With each
pant my emotions whip into a tailspin. When he speaks, I
hear the concern in his voice, “Calm down Layla, you’ll have
a panic attack. You haven’t filled your prescription in a
while.”
I feel exposed. Like the floodlights have been turned on and
pointed directly at me, nothing is private or sacred. Nothing
is off bounds to him.
“Baby, I won’t hurt her as long as you play nice. You should
know by now that I don’t take disobedience lightly. You’re
mine, Layla. Mine. I will rip apart anyone or anything that
comes between us. I don’t care if it hurts, I’ll hold you while
you work through it. We’ll do it together.”
Tears run down my face as I walk to the window of my
bedroom, staring down at him, “What do you want me to
do?”
“Let me in.”
I shake my head, dread pooling in my stomach along with
something else…something so incredibly fucked. “You don’t
need me to get in.”
“That’s not the point. Put on the lingerie I bought for you
and open the back door. Do it now.”
I can feel my monster’s eyes on me as I walk from the
window slipping out of my t-shirt and sweatpants. The black
see through bra and panties are embroidered with dark rich
colored flowers and intricate designs, matching the garter
belt and black sheer stockings.
It really is beautiful.
“Do you like it? I had it specially made for you. Your skin
looks so beautiful in dark colors.”
I don’t answer as I slip it all on, staring at myself in the
mirror for longer than necessary. My subtle curves are
hugged perfectly by the soft fabric as if it was molded onto
me. My large thighs that I always hated look pretty and
sensual wrapped in his outfit. “You know my size.” I
mumble, meeting my hollow gaze in the mirror. The amber
color isn’t glowing like they used to, I look…dead. The deep-
set bags underneath my eyes are even more pronounced
than normal. My long curly hair is dull, even a little greasy at
the roots. I haven’t bothered to spray in dry shampoo today.
My body is bruised and aching. I look exactly how I feel.
“The anticipation is killing me Layla.”
“It’s a shame you don’t mean literally.”
He scoffs, “Careful what you wish for. Wherever I go, you
go.”
My tears drip down my flushed cheeks, dropping onto the
swell of my breasts as I move past Peaches in the hall
heading towards the stairs.
Some guard dog you are.
“Be sure to put the dog up too. I have no interest in hurting
her.”
A strange flood of relief washes over me as I push her into
my bedroom. Giving her a reassuring pat before shutting
the door behind me.
Stop it, Layla. Not killing your dog is the bare minimum. You
shouldn’t be grateful towards him. Not for anything. This
isn’t kindness he’s showing you. He’s inflicting pain…
wielding my emotions like a weapon.

Stalkers Tango by Autoheart

The music changes as I descend the dark mahogany stairs,
slower than necessary. My shaky hands trailing down the
white painted banister. As I get halfway down I know he’s
looking at me, but I can’t raise my eyes to meet his. I’m
so…overwhelmed by it all. By the absolute fucktastrophy my
life has become in the matter of weeks. I was stupid to think
the very few people I loved would be safe from him. Exempt
from his madness. The loud music only adds to the
unsettled feeling underneath my skin, which I’m sure is the
point. I can’t imagine the blubbering mess I would be had I
not taken my meds earlier.
Yay for pharmaceuticals.
I reach for the door, the sound of the deadbolt sliding out of
place sends chills down my spine as the heat from my flush
cheeks creeps down my neck, pouring onto my chest. I
don’t look at him as I open up the door. The cool wind from
outside blows my hair around my face as I step back. His
dark figure stepping inside where I ounce stood and taking
the last semblance of safety I had.
“My good girl, you look fucking beautiful.” He praises as he
shuts the door behind him. My chest tightens at his words
and I cover myself with my arms backing up until my nearly
bare ass hits the back of the couch. “I’m not going to hurt
you, not unless you do something stupid.” I scream as he
lunges for me, gripping the back of my neck firmly, forcing
my eyes to his, “Trying to run from me is categorized as
something stupid little love.” His warm minty breath
caresses my neck, making the hairs there stand on end,
“Did you miss it? My touch?” He asks as he runs his fingers
up the outside of my thighs. “Answer me Layla.”
Yes…
“No.”
I yelp as he suddenly grips my hair in his firm hand roughly
jerking me backwards, shoving me over the couch, my side
colliding painfully with the coffee table. “Don’t fucking lie to
me.” He orders, his voice gravels. It’s tension mixed with a
desperation that makes the nub between my legs pulse. I
quickly blink away the tears that well in my eyes as I
scramble to stand, my knees feel far too weak to actually
hold me here. I’m only half up when he vaults over the
couch like it’s nothing. His hands are on me again in a
second. I gasp as his grip tightens around my throat. “Let’s
try that again, little love. Did. You. Miss. My. Touch?”
I nod tentatively as he runs his thumb gently over my pulse
point, making tension build between my thighs. I gasp as his
hardened cock presses into me, “Are you going to cry, baby?
Go on, it won’t change anything. We’re going to continue
this little dance until you realize how badly you need me. I
will bend you until you break Layla, until there’s nothing left
of you but me.” Sweat prickles across the back of my neck
as he releases me walking backwards until he props himself
up on the wall, crossing his toned arms underneath his dark
leather jacket. I clench my thighs together, ignoring the
pooling arousal behind the flimsy fabric. He looks so natural
inside my house, like he’s always been here.
“Little love…why do you call me that?” I ask, uncomfortable
under his gaze, I feel pinned here. Like a rat caught in the
claws of a predator.
“You remind me of someone that meant a great deal to me.”
He answers, his tone is chipped.
Your nanny? The article said it was Liam’s nanny.
“Tell me your name… please.”
He groans, adjusting his cock in his pants, “Say it again.”
Fuck you.
“Please.”
I can hear the smirk in his voice as he speaks pushing off
the wall, stalking towards me every bit the predator I
imagined him as moments before, “No.”
I exhale loudly in frustration, sitting down on the couch as I
knot my hands in my hair. He chuckles, “You’re so fucking
adorable when you’re mad, baby.” My body trembles as he
steps closer. I can smell him, feel the heat from his body as
he puts a single finger underneath my chin forcing my head
up. My eyes narrow at him as he tilts his head to the side
slightly, “On your knees, Layla.”
No…
“Please.”
I can see his lips pull up behind that black mask, “Either you
get on your knees and take my cock down that pretty little
throat of yours or I’ll take your untrained ass.” I take a deep
breath as I lower myself in front of him, my knees pressing
hard into the floor as he frees his hardened length. I
whimper as he grips my chin tightly, “If you bite me, I will
kill us both before I get to decorate your face with my come.
What a damn shame that would be.”
He’s fucking insane and so am I.
I hesitantly open my mouth as he notches himself against
my tongue, gently teasing me as he bobs in and out, the
salty taste of his pre-come makes my mouth water. I run my
tongue across the head of his cock, desperately wanting to
taste more of him, making him jerk before he slides the rest
of the way in. I gag slightly, trying to pull back before he
grips my hair, keeping me in place, my eyes meeting his.
“You’re doing wonderful baby.”
I adjust on the floor, rubbing my thighs together, trying to
release some of the tension in my throbbing core. Tears well
in my amber eyes as he rocks in and out of my mouth,
making me gag around him. “You look so beautiful sucking
on my cock, little love. Do you like that? Gagging around
me? You’re making it throb, baby. Fuck, you feel too good.”
My eyes widen slightly, a moan escaping from my mouth as
he pulls out to the tip letting me catch my breath just as my
head grows fuzzy. Without warning, he slams back into me,
groaning as he fucks my face. I clench my fists, fighting the
urge to touch him, to touch myself.
“Rub your cunt for me.” He groans as spit dribbles out onto
my chin. I want his words. His praise. Nothing else matters
because in this moment I need it. I need the air he’s keeping
from my lungs. Hollowing out my cheeks, I suck harder,
spreading my legs and frantically seeking out that throbbing
place that begs for touch. I moan again as I find it, stroking
it unceremoniously through the sheer fabric of my
underwear. My eyes roll back in my head as he forces
himself further down my throat, holding me there before
letting me up to breathe. My vision dotting with little sparks.
Little stars…that’s what Liam used to call me. I shouldn’t be
thinking of him at a time like this.
I quicken my pace, rocking my hips in tune with his as he
continues his assault on my throat, throwing his head back
and murmuring something in Icelandic. His hand grips my
hair tightly as he fucks my mouth. I feel myself start to
tighten as warmth floods over my skin, making me cry out
around him.
“Not yet, baby. Wait for me.”
No.
I don’t slow down as I grind into my hand, gagging hard as
he slams down my throat with brutal force, pulling out and
slapping me hard with his cock. My shocked eyes meet his
as he slips back into my mouth, “Don’t worry, I’ll let your
greedy little slit come, but you have to be a good girl and
wait.” I groan, watching as he slips in and out of my mouth,
his thrusts becoming jerky as his cock swells. I can’t stop
the build as I ready myself for him. The tension in my
pulsing core snaps as I burst apart, shattering on the floor in
front of him. He jerks free of my mouth with a pop and I
open wider for him, his come plastering my mouth and
breasts. Panting as I extract my fingers from my clit, it
throbs in protest, residual waves of pleasure dancing across
my skin.
He tucks himself back into his pants as I stand in front of
him, covered, sticky, flushed with pleasure and thoroughly
demeaned. His smirk widens beneath the mask as he
catches my wrist bringing my arousal covered fingers to his
mouth before slipping them inside. Another wave of
pleasure rips through me as he sucks them clean.
“Come on, let’s get you cleaned up.” He orders before
starting over towards the guest bathroom. My legs shake as
I follow him, my mind still ravished by my post orgasm haze
as he lifts me easily, sitting me on the bathroom counter.
The vanity is pleasantly cool against my heated flesh. We
don’t speak as he wets a cloth and begins gently cleaning
my skin, his touch so delicate it makes a familiar ache burn
deep in my chest.
Little love… little star…
I don’t know how much time has passed or how many times
he’s wiped the warm cloth across my pale skin or between
my sensitive legs when he turns off the faucet tossing the
rag onto the floor.
“You aren’t worried about DNA?”
He chuckles as he lifts me from the counter, putting me on
my feet in front of him, his chest so close to mine it brushes
my nipples lightly as he breathes, “You won’t give it to
them.”
“Why wouldn’t I?”
He leans down, his lips brushing against my cheek,
“Because you are mine Layla…and I…I have always been
yours.”
Or maybe because you threatened my best friend, but okay.
He’s mine…
Stop it, you stupid bitch.
His fingers linger on my cheek lovingly brushing against it,
“I’ll have your doctor send a refill to your pharmacy, can’t
have my girl unraveling when I’m not there to put her back
together can I?”
“How could you possibly make them do that?” I ask, my
voice comes out wrong. Weak and shaky. He just winks as
he heads for the door, “See you soon lítla ást. As soon as it
shuts behind him, the strength I held onto crumbles taking
me with it to the ground. I can feel it splitting and breaking
apart across my soul, the first of many cracks inflicted by
this man.
If there’s a god…please let him die before he comes
anywhere near me again.

OceanofPDF.com
I sigh deeply as I slip the red silk fabric over my bruised
littered skin. It’s beautiful, expertly tailored and light. It
might as well be heavy metal chains snapping into place as
I strain to work the zipper up my back. The neckline dips
into my cleavage, pooling there like liquid crimson before it
slips over my slender, exposed shoulders, the thigh high slit
displaying more of his marks.
Which I’m sure is why he wants me to wear it.
I tried my best to cover it with concealer, even had Ava
come help me earlier, but if you look…really look, they are
clear as day. Let’s hope for dim lighting. Guilt trickles in
around my nerves, threatening to destroy all the work I did
on my smoky siren eye makeup as I think about her. She
looked so worried about me, and I sat there and lied to her.
I told her everything had died down, that he must be losing
interest. That couldn’t be further from the truth.
Things haven’t died down since I saw him on Friday. His
eyes linger on me always, even when he’s not here. Waiting
and watching. I’m always on edge, always a stone’s throw
from a full-blown panic attack. Sleep is a joke at this point, it
only comes in brief intervals peppered with nightmares of
mahogany and ocean blue eyes.
I’m fucking exhausted.
I nearly had a meltdown when I got a call from the
pharmacy letting me know my medication was ready to be
picked up. I did…only because the ramifications of
disobeying him range between playful psychological torture
to homicide. I shut off the bedroom light, walking through
the dark hall before I reach the stairs where Peaches waits
for me at the bottom. I’m no longer scared of the dark, not
like I was anyway. Whatever he is…scares me far more than
anything else. My research into Liam has hit a stone wall.
Apparently that file never existed despite having seen it
myself. That leaves one thing…his office at Curran
Enterprises. If he’s been stalking me… playing with me,
there’s bound to be something there. I wish I could say my
nerves weren’t worse at the prospect of seeing him, even if
he’s not my tormentor.
I still want Liam. Badly and all this has done is make me
realize just how safe he made me feel.
How much more can I take? How long will this last? Will the
police investigate once I’m dead? Do they believe me? How
far will he go and to what fucking end? I ask myself the
same questions all hours of every single day, even though
I’m pretty sure I don’t actually want the answers.
Liam, Age Seven
I bound down the pristine halls of the manor, brimming with
excitement. Mother is in a good mood today, which means if
Miss. Katla is done with her chores we can go outside. It’s
been almost two weeks since I’ve been outside the manor,
felt the grass or the breeze on my face. Surrounded by the
trees in our fields and not just staring at them on the
balcony outside my bedroom. I take two steps at a time as I
ascend the stairs to her attic bedroom.
I don’t know why mother and grandmother won’t let her
stay in one of the normal rooms; we have more than enough
space but Miss. Katla doesn’t seem to mind. Nothing ever
bothers her. I see her all day every day yet the moment
she’s away my heart aches for her smile. When I’m older,
she can be my mom for real. Brandon said you can be
adopted by other people. I’ll take such good care of her, just
like she does me. She won’t have to worry about mother’s
lectures or money ever again. I reach out to knock as a
strange sound comes from the other side of the door. Is
someone hurt? My stomach sinks as I hear light sobs
through the thick wood.
She’s crying?
I withdraw my hand, glancing behind me, unsure of what to
do. I should go, mother cries all the time when her
husband’s leave. I know it’s impolite to linger.
“Shut the fuck up, whore!”
My heart stills in my chest as Mr. Collins’ voice booms
through the quiet room, mother’s most recent boyfriend or
husband now I guess. I’m never really sure. He sounds
angry. Miss. Katla cries out. Her soft voice sounds different,
raspy like she’s been crying for a while.
“Mr. Collins please if Ms. Curran sees-“
Smack!
“Don’t say her name and be still.”
I flinch at the sound of the smack, taking a step back in
shock. Miss. Katla starts to cry harder. Something new
bubbles up in my chest. Something…uncomfortable.
Something I’ve never felt before. This strange new feeling
mixes with panic as I lunge for the door.
Don’t hurt her!
Mr. Collins jerks up off of her as I throw open the door, the
wind coming in from the balcony blowing her hair into her
tear-stained face. I don’t…understand.
“Master Liam…” She cries as I look on in horror, he’s inside
her? Brandon said adults do this sometimes, but it looks
gross. She looks sad, not happy.
“Get away from her or I’ll tell mother!” I yell, his face turns
beat red. He jerks himself out from her behind, throwing her
onto the floor. Miss. Katla cries out as her face slams into
the nightstand. “You stupid fucking brat I swear-!” Miss.
Katla throws herself at him, wrapping her arms around his
legs, “Hlaupa Liam!”
Run?
He jerks lose from her grasp as he takes off towards me. I
pivot my shoes squeaking across the hardwood as I run
back down the stairs. I’m not as big as Brandon, but I’m
fast. Really fast. Tears fall down my face and my chest feels
funny as I tunnel towards my mother’s rooms. If I can get to
her, tell her he was hurting Miss. Katla, she’ll make him
leave for sure.
“Get the fuck back here, kid! You don’t understand what you
saw. Come here!”
No, you hurt Miss. Katla.
I wipe the tears from my eyes, barely looking up in time
before I smash into mother knocking us both into the floor. I
grip onto her my heart pounding in my chest as I glance
frantically behind me.
I made it.
“For God’s sake Liam, get off!” She yells. Her sharp nails
poke at me as she tries to shove me from her but I ignore it.
Clinging to her anyway, I’ve never been so scared before or
so angry.
“Mother, he was hurting Miss. Katla!”
She stops trying to shove me away as she stills, looking
down at my reddened face.
“Grace,” Mr. Collins pleads, looking just as scared as I feel.
Good, you won’t get away with what you did.
“What were they doing exactly, Liam?” She asks as she
pulls me to my feet. Her touch is gentler than usual,
catching me off guard. I look down my cheeks feel hot, “He
was… having sex with her but she wasn’t happy mother.
She was hurt and crying.”
I stumble backwards as she pushes hard on my shoulder,
shoving me away, her eyes glued to Mr. Collins as she
speaks, “Go to your room Liam.”
“Grace…”
I glare at him as he pleads again with mother. She won’t
listen to him, I know it. She’s going to get him in so much
trouble for hurting Miss. Katla.
I saved her, just like Batman would’ve.

They’re screaming continues all night long. Even down the

hall through the thick wooden doors of the manor I can hear
mother yelling at him. It makes me feel proud, knowing I did
the right thing. That pride doesn’t last long when the sound
of Miss. Katla’s cries trickle in from beneath my door the
next morning. I rub my sleep filled blue eyes glancing over
at the clock. It’s 4am.
Why is she crying?
I sit there for a moment waiting for her to come in, but when
her cries become fainter, I throw off the covers. Not
bothering to slip on my house shoes as my bare feet hit the
cold marble floor. I slowly open the door, trying to hide the
creaking as I slip out into the hall.
Where did she go? Mother fixed everything, right?
I pad down the dark hall towards my mother’s bedroom and
the parlor she passes out in more often than her bed. A sick
feeling pools in my gut as I watch her take Mr. Collins’ hands
in hers, smirking at him as she pulls him into her bedroom.
How could you smile at him after what he did?
I frown, making my way to Miss. Katla’s room. Maybe I
misunderstood. Maybe she wasn’t upset like I thought. I try
to convince myself of that as I follow the sound of her cries.
Each one making the pain in my chest bite a little deeper. I’ll
make it better though.
I can cheer her up. I’ll take care of her like she does me
when I cry.
I stop in the tracks, running back down the hall to my
bathroom, jerking the batman band-aids from the back of
my bathroom drawer. I can fix where he hit her, it’ll make
her smile for sure. Even if she is too old to like Batman. I
know it will make her happy. As I hit the threshold of her
cool room, it strikes me how different the dark wood walls
and floor are from the white marble of the house. She falls
to the floor beside the bed, pulling a suitcase from
underneath it as she wipes her nose on her sleeve. A red
stain by her bottom on her dress makes my stomach feel
funny.
“Miss. Katla?”
She clears her throat, quickly wiping away her tears as she
turns to me, but that familiar smile seems… off. It doesn’t
reach her big eyes. “Lítla Liam, you should be in bed.” I walk
into the room sitting down beside her on the floor. Her face
looks swollen and puffy, much worse than it did yesterday.
Did mother get mad at her?
“Did you get in trouble?” I whisper as my hands shake, her
eyes trailing to the suitcase.
“Liam, listen to me. None of this is your fault.” She says
those words like a vow, but they hold no meaning because
she couldn’t be more wrong. This is my fault.
How couldn’t it be?
I don’t stop her as she pulls me into her arms, holding me
tightly, her tears soaking my shirt the same way mine does
hers. She sniffles as she pulls back, running her small
fingers through my hair. I can’t help but to lean into her
palm.
“Promise me something, master Liam.”
I nod, my heart pounding at the seriousness in her voice.
I would do anything for you.
“When you grow up, you’ll be even stronger and smarter
than Batman. I want you to leave this place. I want you to
find me so I can see your copper hair and tease you about
how big you’ve gotten. Promise me Liam.”
Find you?
I pull away from her, my eyes falling on her open closet. My
heart splits in half, threatening to pull from my chest.
“You’re leaving me?”
She sobs, failing to stifle the sound, “Little Liam, I have no
choice. You are not mine. If I could change it- “
“I can, I’ll change it. I’ll change her mind.” She follows as I
jerk to my feet, wincing as she stands.
“Liam no, you cannot. What happened was not your fault,
you saved me and I will always be grateful for that but she
will not let me remain here. It’s not safe for me with them, it
never was.” She takes a step towards me. I don’t know why,
but I jerk back her hugs feel like goodbye. Her words…they
don’t make sense. I can fix it. I drop the Batman band-aids
not caring as they spill out onto the floor. Ignoring her as
she calls for me while I race down the hall, I can convince
mother she was wrong to send Miss. Katla away. I’ve never
asked her for anything. I’ve been so good. She’ll have to
listen to me. Everything was fine before he came along.
Miss. Katla will feel silly for worrying in the first place.
I can’t…I can’t be here without her.
I don’t knock as I slam into the door, it’s locked of course. I
ignore the pain in my shoulder smashing it into the door
before I start beating on it. I know I shouldn’t be acting this
way, but I can’t help it…I feel funny. Like my lungs aren’t
working right and my chest feels hot and tight on the inside.
“Mother! Mother!”
I gasp as he jerks the door open, the black robe draped
loosely over his tall body. I look past him at my mother
lounging underneath the covers with a cigarette pressed
between her fingers. Grandma would freak if she knew she
was smoking inside again.
“What Liam?” She demands as I shove past him, going to
her side.
“Don’t make her go, please. I’ll do anything. Make him go
and let her stay mother. She didn’t do anything wrong.” I
plead, searching her cold brown eyes.
Nothing.
She scoffs, “You’re too young to understand, but you will
one day. You’ll see that little slut for exactly what she is.
What they all are. End of discussion.”
Anger bubbles up inside of me as I slap the cigarette from
her hand, “You’re wrong!”
The shock on her face is soon replaced by the nasty scowl
she usually wears, “Get him the fuck out of here, Andrew.” I
thrash as he grabs me roughly, “Get your hands off me! I
hate you! I hate both of you!” The air leaves my lungs as he
tosses me onto the marble floor, my back colliding with the
ground as I fail to catch myself.
I don’t care what mother said, she can’t leave me.
I scramble to my feet as he slams the door. His smug gaze
makes my stomach feel like it’s all twisted up. I don’t think
as I run back towards her, if she’s going I want to go with
her. She’s my mom, she is. She can’t leave me behind.
“Miss. Katla I’ll come with you!” I cry as I run into her room.
It feels darker and colder in here as if she’s already left it.
She doesn’t turn towards me as her hands tighten on the
metal railing of the attic balcony, her light blonde hair
blowing in the wind. She doesn’t try to smile this time as
she turns around. The sadness in her eyes bores a hole
through my already breaking heart. I can see it in her eyes
that won’t do it. She won’t take me.
She’s given up.
“You aren’t mine to take.” She whispers, her eyes are red
my Band-Aids gripped tightly in her hand as she brings the
box to her chest. “I’m sorry.” She’s shaking, just as hard as
the leaves outside.
“Says who? You’ve always been here, Katla! You have since I
was a little baby. Why can’t I be yours?”
“You’re a Curran, Master Liam. I was your au pair, nothing
more. Remember what I asked you, this isn’t goodbye, lítla
ást. Only see you later.” Her voice breaks as the anger I feel
doubles down in my chest, turning into something else…
something more.
How could you say that? Why?
My vision goes black as I rapidly blink my eyes, trying to
make sense of what’s going on around me. I’m on the
balcony?
Katla? Miss. Katla, where did you go?
Thud!
I flinch as a sickening sound fills my ears, my legs pulling
me closer to the edge. I don’t know why I don’t want to look
down. Everything in my body is screaming not to. I don’t
listen.
She left me. She really… left me.
I watch my Batman band-aids flicker to the ground, falling
around where her crumpled form lays in the gravel. Blood
splattered around the ground beneath her unmoving body,
sprawled out in a weird way. Her big eyes are wide and
empty as they stare back up at me.
Miss. Katla…

Liam
I adjust my red silk tie looking over at the clock: 6pm.
People at the gala would have started arriving half an hour
ago.
Which means she’s here.
I smirk, remembering how she tasted on my tongue the last
time I saw her, saw her up close, that is. I don’t mind
making the drive out to her house to watch her from the
woods. She rarely closes the curtains, even now. As much as
she tries to deny it, she likes that I’m watching her. The fear,
the adrenaline she feels… my sweet little star gets off on it.
“Hey, I think they’re ready for our welcoming speech, you
coming?” Brandon asks, sticking his head into my dimly lit
office.
“Have you seen her yet?” I don’t bother hiding the tension
in my voice as we walk out into the hallway. These floors are
empty at night if we aren’t working. The music from the gala
tunneling up the elevator shaft from the second floor.
He groans, “Yes, but please don’t do any creepy shit, not
tonight.”
“I’m not creepy. I’m invested.” I deadpan, knowing damn
well I’m a little creepy.
“Remind me why we’re friends again.” He asks as he
tightens his man bun on the top of his head. Shifting
uncomfortably in the steamed dark gray suit, they aren’t
really his thing. Never have been.
“Neither of us plays well with others and it beats being
alone.”
He chuckles as we step into the sleek elevator, my pulse
racing. If things go sideways tonight, I can always move
onto Plan B. The upper floors are abandoned, and I know
she came alone. Ava would be easy enough to deal with
afterwards. I’m not against Layla having friends as long as
they don’t take up too much of her time. The elevator doors
slide open, and I can’t begin to hide the smile on my face.
Layla looks just as perfect as I knew she would in that dress.
I had it custom made for her after all. Her curves hugged
perfectly by the delicate fabric; her curly long hair braided
down her back as she sips champagne, her red lipstick
staining the glass. The red not only suits her but it’s a
warning… one she apparently didn’t hear loudly enough. I
take a deep breath, eyes narrowing on the man she’s talking
to, that uncomfortable heat filling my chest.
What are they talking about? He’s standing close, too
fucking close.
Brandon breaks my attention from her, clearing his throat as
he motions to the stage. I give him a slight nod before
gesturing to a waitress to come over, “The woman in the
silk red dress, see her?” The small blonde woman nods, her
large green eyes glued to my lips. “The man she’s talking
to, spill something on him.”
Her eyes widen slightly as she chuckles. Quickly realizing
I’m serious she stops immediately, glancing down at the
tray of cocktails she’s holding.
“We’re old friends, it’s fine. I’m Mr. Curran. I hired the
company you work for.”
“Oh, Mr. Curran, I’m sorry. I’ll uhm…yeah okay, is there
anything else I should say?”
I smile down at her, watching her round face light up before
I push a blonde strand from her eyes, “Not a word.” She
bites down on her lip before nodding and heading that way. I
grind my teeth as I head towards the stage, wiping my hand
on my pants. The idea of touching another woman makes
me sick. All I want is Layla. Ruining his suit doesn’t feel like
an effective enough punishment for the way he looked at
my little star, but can’t be killing off benefactors. Tonight
has to be perfect. I smile again as I hear clattering dishes
and the blonde’s rapid fire apologies behind me. I slip my
hand into my pocket, making sure for the hundredth time
tonight that I have everything I need.
Tonight is the first major step towards the rest of our lives,
little star. Are you ready for me?

OceanofPDF.com
L ayla
Calm down, you are ready for this.
That’s what I tell myself as I watch Liam give his speech, the
way he moves across the stage…his smile. I’m only vaguely
aware of what he’s saying, much less Brandon standing next
to him. I got to know Brandon relatively well while I was with
Liam, mostly because he was just always around. He seems
to understand him in a way I can’t. Their relationship is
more like brothers than friends. I know they grew up
together but after that, not a lot. Liam never liked to talk
about his childhood, only now do I understand why.
Witnessing a suicide…it must’ve been awful for him. The
article said his nanny had become obsessed with the family.
When she was let go, she jumped.
Standing here staring up at him, I feel even more guilty for
requesting the case file on her death and suspecting him in
all of this mess. I suck in a sharp breath as he meets my
eyes, his bottomless blues looking even brighter underneath
the lights. He gives me a small smirk, one that sends heat
to my core and jump-starts my wary heart. I can hear my
phone vibrating in my bag. I know it’s him. Yet the man on
stage isn’t using a phone, of course there are ways around
that. Hence why I came tonight. I remember last year they
started the charity auction shortly after the first speeches,
so that will be the perfect time to slip away.
Hopefully.
If I get caught, God forbid by Liam, I have no clue how he’ll
react. I never knew how he’d react to anything. The
smallest, oddest things would set him off, though he
seemed endlessly patient with me apart from where other
people were involved. If I looked in the direction of another
man for too long, if I didn’t answer his texts or calls fast
enough. He tried to play it off but I could tell how much it
bothered him. Those are just some of the more mundane
ones. I jump as the room erupts in applause, downing my
second glass of champagne before joining in.
Pacing myself would probably be the best plan of action but
without the liquid courage I will one hundred percent bitch
out.
My heart races as he makes his way through the crowd
chatting and shaking hands, all the while his eyes set on
me. A blip of panic sears up from deep in my gut.
Which is nothing new.
If he sees Liam speaking to me, there’s no telling what he’d
do. Is he even here? Would I recognize him if he was? I lower
my head and then abruptly make a break for it like the
coward I am. Heading back towards the bar. I’m not ready to
talk to him yet, if my raging heart and sweaty palms are any
indication. I nearly jump out of my skin as I bump into the
slender frame of an older woman.
“Oh god, I’m so sorry.” I apologize.
“You look familiar. Have we met?”
Fuck me.
I meet her dark brown eyes, her just as dark hair lined with
silver strands is pulled up in a bun that looks so tight it’s
pulling the skin around her forehead taunt, not that she
needs it. She’s beautiful. Aged sure, but beautifully.
“I don’t think so. I’m Layla Burke. I write for Blinked
Magazine.” I mutter, fighting the urge to glance behind me.
Her eyes widen slightly before the snarky smirk takes back
over her striking features, eye eyes dipping to the lightening
bruises littering my neck and chest.
God, this is humiliating.
There’s something unnervingly familiar about her smirk, like
I’ve seen it thousands of times before. It deepens are she
speaks, “Oh my, it’s a pleasure to finally meet you. I’d like
to say I’d heard so much about you but- “
“Layla, there you are.” Liam’s deep voice cuts her off, his
arm slipping around my waist, pulling me towards him. I
frown, wanting to snuggle in close to that familiar touch as
badly as I want to shove him away. He leans in his lips
brushing my ear, “Running from me?” His whisper makes
my face break out in a blush so deep it could signal the
space station and the woman eyes me like a cockroach
trapped under her designer shoe. I feel small around them.
Very small. Like I’m trapped between titans.
“Don’t be rude Liam. I raised you better than that.” She
scolds, making Liam’s arm around me tighten painfully.
Ohmyfuck .
“Right, this is Grace Curran, my mother. Mother meet Lay-“
“Yes, yes Layla Burke, your mysterious and evasive fiancé.”
She interrupts disdain clear in her eyes, I can’t tell if it’s
directed at him or me.
Wait, his what?
Liam clears his throat as I bite down on my cheek, trying to
hide the stupid smile attempting to force it’s way onto my
face. “I’m afraid I need to have a word with Layla alone.
Next time you decide to make an appearance, some
warning would be nice.” All the humor leaves me as I look
up at Liam, taken aback by the loathsome tone of his voice.
Grace scoffs, not bothering to respond as she turns
sauntering back towards the bar.
“Sorry, I don’t see her much. It was just… easier not to tell
her we broke up.” His freckled cheeks flush as he runs his
hand through his tousled hair.
It’s not fair for one person to look like this.
“Right. I must’ve missed the part where we got engaged.” I
muse as I glance over my shoulder at her, pulling from his
hold.
“Wishful thinking, sue me.” He snaps, following my gaze.
Jesus Christ…
Liam shakes his head, “We don’t get along. Trust me, no
contact is best when it comes to Grace fucking Curran. Steer
clear of her Layla.”
“She stared at me like I spit on the pope. I think it’s safe to
say we won’t be doing each other’s nails anytime soon.” I
snap back, already fucking annoyed. He’s always been like
this. His utter refusal to speak in depth about his parents,
vague warnings and orders with no context.
It’s fucking maddening.
I always just ignored it, figured it was old money drama that
was none of my business.
It helped that you were usually too busy on his dick to care.
I exhale a shaky breath as I avert my eyes from his. That
handsome stupid fucking smirk tells me I didn’t look away
nearly fast enough. “Let me get you a drink to make up for
it.” It’s not a question as he motions for a waitress. I frown
at his red tie, the exact shade of my dress. Tension bleeds
into my chest and I take an involuntary step back.
Remember why you’re here. Who he might be.
“Is the auction starting soon?” I ask casually as he takes two
flutes of champagne from the waiter. Liam’s ever
scrutinizing ocean blue eyes find mine as he hikes a thick
coppery brow up, “Since when do you care about charity
auctions? If I recall, last year you were bored out of your
mind, picking at your nail polish underneath the table
instead of listening.”
He knows I don’t have half as much money as it would take
to even dream of participating tonight, and he knows I don’t
care. Which means he thinks I’m here… for him. Which I am.
“It’s been months now Liam, bold of you to assume you still
know everything about me.” I bluff, hoping like hell he’ll
drop it, that the divide between us will stay just as it is. I
watch as his jaw clenches, giving me a curt nod.
Why do you even care, asshole?
The lights dim as the sound of someone tapping a
microphone fills the room, requesting our attention at the
stage. I want to look, but instead I’m locked in right here
gazing into Liam’s intense eyes. He looks…angry.
“Happy bidding Layla.” He mutters abruptly before heading
back towards the stage where Brandon is waiting for him. All
I can do is stand there gawking as he walks away.
I’m so breaking into your office tonight.

By the time the auction is half over I’ve nearly picked off all
my carefully applied nail polish. I look away from Liam for a
moment to wipe the remnants from my gown. His eyes
haven’t left me all night, barely long enough to help with the
bidding. It looks so effortless the way he reacts to the
people around him, navigating jokes I never understand and
conversations I’ve never been interested in. If I didn’t know
him, I’d assume he was right at home. He wears his mask
like a second skin. How could I have ever stood up against
that?
My heart skips a beat as I look up to find him distracted, and
a little annoyed. Point being his gaze is no longer anchored
to me.
Thank you Brandon.
I worry my hands as I try to pump myself up. God, I’m
fucking nervous, I remember my way around here well
enough, finding the office will be a breeze. Theoretically.
Layla, it’s now or never.
I grip my bag tightly in my hand as I raise from my seat,
mumbling my apologies as the people nestled on either side
of me glare on. Don’t worry about them, for the love of God
just go. My cowardice and fear prevent me from glancing
behind me until I’m nearly out of the threshold of the large
ballroom. I nearly faint with relief as my eyes land on Liam’s
broad back. The arrival bell of the elevator sounds like
fucking redemption as I slip inside, spamming the close door
button like my life depends on it.
Because it might.
It’s not until I’m standing completely still inside the small
space, leaning my forehead against the cool mirrored wall,
reveling in how good it feels against my heated skin that it
occurs to me I should’ve forgone the last glass of
champagne. I’m not drunk, but I’ve always been a
lightweight and I’m well on my way. Liquid courage is a
doubled-edged sword when it comes to me, and more often
than not I end up getting cut.

I smile drunkenly as I stumble through the threshold of

Liam’s office. He looks so… scorching sun hot with the
sleeves of his dress shirt rolled up. The first few buttons of it
undone the collar hanging open, exposing the top of the
large moth tattooed onto his chest. The stupid shit-eating
grin doesn’t leave my face as I watch his fist clench around
the papers in his hands.
He’s pissed, and sex with pissed Liam is… intense.
He doesn’t look up as I approach his desk, leaning up
against its sleek hardwood design. The earthiness of it looks
so off in the plaster white and mirror filled décor Brandon
spewed throughout the building. “Get a cab and go home,
Layla.”
I pout, he always gets like this after I go out with Ava,
especially if I drink. “Are you not happy to see me?” I ask as
I push off his desk, stumbling around before awkwardly
hopping up onto it. Feeling quite impressed with my agility
at the moment. Liam groans, finally looking up from the
paper, his heated eyes landing on my hem of my dress
that’s pooled up around my thighs.
“Is that what you fucking wore?” He growls, as his blue eyes
glide across my skin, making arousal build between my legs.
I love it when he gets jealous. It makes me feel so…desired.
So needed.
“Do you like it?” I ask softly, slipping my fingers along the
hem, pretending to straighten it out. I gasp as his large
hands grip my waist, jerking me off his desk and spinning
me until I’m facing away from him. Not a fun action when
you’re heavily intoxicated and in heels. I lean my head back
into him as he presses his hardened cock into my ass.
“Of fucking course I like it.” He whispers, his voice chipped
as he slams me down into his desk, following me down and
pressing his hard warm chest into my back. I clench my
thighs together as his lips find my neck, “I’m tired of you
going out.”
“I’m allowed to have friends outside of you, Liam.”
A small yelp leaves my throat as he presses himself into me
harder, making the desk bite into my hips. His large hand
shoves my heated cheek against the hard surface, “For
now.”
Huh?
“I’m trying, little star, to be reasonable when it comes to
you. You’re making it… Very. Fucking. Difficult. I’ve been a
mess all night, Layla.” He groans as he nips at my exposed
shoulder.
Bite, lick, suck.
I moan as he removes his hand from my head, hooking his
fingers into my thin soaked underwear, jerking them off of
me. The fabric ripping away like paper in his grasp.
“Wondering what you were doing, who you were with…”
Bite, lick, suck.
I gasp as he jerks my dress up, exposing my ass to him,
notching himself against my glistening entrance.
Holy hell.
“Did you talk to any other men, Layla, huh? Did you fucking
touch them? You know what I’ll do if I find out you did,
baby?” His words send tremors through my taunt, needy
body, making me push back into him. He moves back, not
letting me slip him inside. I groan, “I didn’t talk to anyone
Liam. Please.”
I get no warning as he brings his hand down, slapping my
ass hard, involuntary tears well in my eyes. He’s never…
spanked me before. He doesn’t stop either. His hits are
rough and punishing, making me cry out with each slap until
I’m whimpering beneath him. The stinging flesh doesn’t stop
my arousal from dipping down my legs.
“Mine.” He growls as he slams into me, making me cry out
as he rocks feverishly into my sex, sending waves of
pleasure and pain crashing over me.
“If you leave me Layla, I swear on everything I hold dear I’ll-
“

“Ma’am?”
A scream leaves my throat as I lurch from the memory, my
skin broken out in heated goosebumps as I stare at the
baffled old man.
“God, I’m so sorry I must’ve zoned out.” I laugh it off,
pretending like that memory didn’t just confirm something…
horrifying.
He laughs, “You gave me quite the shock too. I’m just the
janitor, but this floor is usually empty at this time of night.”
Think Layla, think you absolute dumbass.
“Right, I was just grabbing something for my fiancé, Mr.
Curran.” I say a little too quickly, pulling my hands from
behind my back smiling sweetly at the old man.
“Oh my apologies, ma’am. Do you want me to stay here
with you until you grab it? I don’t mind. I’m done for the
night.” I shake my head, making curly strands that have
worked free from my loose fishtail braid fall into my face,
“That’s alright. I appreciate it though, next time I see you I’ll
try not to scream.” We both chuckle as he nods. Good to
know my charm glamor still works when I’m tipsy. After we
say our goodbyes, I don’t breathe again until the elevator
doors slide shut, sealing his departure.
Liam is my stalker…
Lick, suck, bite. God, how could I have been so fucking
stupid?
Dread pools in my stomach as my heels clank against the
floor on my way to his office. It looks exactly like I
remember but of course it would. Liam has always hated
change. I run my fingers along the ornate bottle of absinthe
sitting on the corner of the large desk. He only ever drank
when he was stressed.
I suppose stalking, murdering and assaulting people would
be stressful.
I don’t give myself time to back out before I begin tooling
through the papers on his desk. If I think right now, I’m
going to have an absolute fucking meltdown and that…
would be far from ideal.
Keep it together until you get home, Layla. Find your proof.
You need more than kinky daydreams in a court of law.
My mind goes back to Mr. Danvers as I jerk open a drawer, a
little surprised it wasn’t locked. Liam made a point of giving
me a key to his desk when we were together. Said anything
of his or about him was mine, despite me insisting I didn’t
need it. He nearly killed him. The police said nothing. Would
they help me now? Even with proof?
No. They wouldn’t. They haven’t… is that his doing?
“Something I can help you with, Layla?”
I yelp, slamming my finger in the drawer as I turn my heart
and stomach free-falling as Liam leans casually against the
doorframe. One of his coppery eyebrows hiked up, making
me feel like a naughty child.
Holyfuckingshit…

OceanofPDF.com
I jerk a loose pen from the desk as he shoves off the
doorframe, shutting the door behind him. The sound of the
latch sliding into place might as well be a death sentence,
“C’mon Layla, what are you going to do with that? You don’t
have it in you to hurt me.” He muses as he stalks towards
me. All I can see is his brown eyes and a black mask staring
back at me.
“Stay the fuck back Liam.” I warn as my back hits the
windowed wall behind me. Leaving nowhere else to go.
“Let me get this straight. You break into my office, go
through my things and then threaten me?” He fails to hide
the smirk on his face as he slips off his suit jacket,
discarding it on the couch. I try to focus on the pen in my
hands, gripping it like a lifeline. A tiny, pitiful lifeline.
“Cut the bullshit, I know it’s you!” I yell, hoping someone,
anyone will hear me. He stops suddenly frowning, “You think
what is me?
I shutter as the words leave my mouth in a broken whisper,
“You’re stalking me. You killed James.”
“What could I possibly have to gain by doing that?”
“I…I don’t know. Maybe you just want to see me hurting.
Maybe you’ve hated me all along and this is just some
fucking game to you.” My voice breaks as I wage war
against the damming tears in my eyes. A growl forms low in
his chest as he takes off towards me. I don’t have time to
scream before he covers my mouth with his large hand,
jerking the pen from my hands with the other.
“You were never a fucking game. ” He spits out his ocean
blue eyes licked with flame. I pant as he slowly removes his
hand from my mouth, keeping me caged against the wall. “I
am not harassing you, Layla. I have no reason to and you
need to relax before you freak out.”
I am freaking out.
“Prove it then. Prove it’s not you.” The words come out as a
whisper. I’ve never wanted to be wrong about anything so
much in my entire life. All the sweet kind moments with this
man… all the times I thought I had fallen for him. All for
what? Wiped away in a moment. He releases me, wiping his
hands down his face, “When was the last time you saw
him?”
“Friday afternoon.”
He sits down at his office chair, his back to me, turning on
his laptop before tossing my makeshift weapon on the desk.
“Where…did you see him?” He doesn’t look at me, but he’s
tense.
Where did I see you?
“Just hurry up with your alibi, Liam.” I order, not moving
from my place on the wall as my body trembles. I struggle
to control my breathing as he clicks through this and that,
finally pulling up the security feed from his office. Typing in
the date he wants. My heart doesn’t beat again until he rolls
back from the laptop, giving me much needed space to
check. There he is talking to Brandon Friday at one in the
afternoon while I was on my knees with him … I’m vaguely
aware of Liam standing from the chair and pushing it behind
me so that I can sit. I can’t look at him as he walks over
pouring us drinks, “There’s more proof if you need it.
Electronic documents I signed just thirty minutes later.
There’re all time stamped.” My eyes never leave the screen.
I feel… disappointed in a sickening way. Like I almost
wanted it to be him. What have I done? “Liam, I’m so sorry.”
I mumble before burying my face in my hands.
I must look insane.
I can feel him nearing me as he sits our glasses down, lifting
me from the chair, pulling me tightly into him. “You have
nothing to apologize for. You were scared.” I shake my head,
trying to pull back before he wraps his arms around me.
Placing his hand on the back of my head, stroking my hair
gently just like he always has. This kindness… I don’t
deserve it.
“I’m still sorry.” He kisses the top of my head as I whisper.
No…
I quickly clear my throat, wiping my tears on the back of my
hand as I walk over to the large ornate mirror hanging on
the wall. Straightening my dress and makeup, hoping this
can be the end of it.
This has to be the end.
Liam appears behind me in the mirror, my amber eyes
meeting his ocean ones in the glass. Showing every bit of
emotion I’d ever wanted to see far too late. He brings the
glass to my lips, tilting it backwards forcing me to drink as
he lightly trails his hand down my spine.
Ocean Eyes by Billie Eilish
Everything that happens next shouldn’t. I should say no, I
should stop him, but I can’t. I can’t do what’s best for him
because I’m weak against this man. Weak against them
both. The thought of it all terrifies me.
I take the glass from his hands, tipping it back until the
bitter alcohol disappears completely. His eyes darken as he
runs his lips across my marked neck. “Did he do this to
you?” His hand finds my chin, pulling my head towards him
as his lips find mine, kissing me gently as his tongue teases
my bottom lip. I don’t answer and he doesn’t ask again. But
his grip tightens on me. I can taste the absinthe on his
tongue as it slips into my mouth, dancing with mine.
I should pull away, but I melt.
I melt into Liam, pressing my throbbing core into his as he
lifts me up. My legs wrapping around his waist as he carries
me to the couch. He lays me down, hovering over me as I
push up into him, begging for friction. For a touch that
doesn’t belong to a stranger.
To a monster. A real monster, not the one I painted this man
to be.
I don’t stop him as he slips my lace underwear down my
legs, discarding them in the floor, trailing his hands over my
thighs. His cock tenting in his pants as his hands slip
underneath, teasing my sensitive flesh. I moan, tilting my
head back as I once again meet his eyes.
“Layla…” He groans as he realizes how wet I am.
I reach down, unbuckling his belt, before he pulls back
slightly still rubbing circles on my clit.
“I need- “
He cuts me off, smirking, “I know what you need, little star.”
With that he frees himself from his pants, his mouth
crashing into mine as if he’s been starved of my taste. My
fingers find their way into his copper hair as he hikes my
long dress up around my waist, dragging his cockhead up
and down my slit gently, so gently I writhe beneath him. “Do
you have any idea how many times over these past months
I’ve thought of slipping between your legs?”
I moan as he slides in slowly, letting me adjust to his length.
Biting down on my lip as I stretch around him, it’s painful in
all the right ways as he buries himself in me. Pulling back
out slowly, leaving just the tip in before running his tongue
down my neck and slamming forward. I cry out, hitching my
legs around him as he rolls his hips. Waves of heat barreling
through my limbs as he takes up every sense I have. All I
smell is Liam, all I feel is his skin against mine touching me
in the way I’ve longed for. All I taste is his lips and all I see
are those deep blue eyes staring down at me like I hung the
sun in the sky. I pitch my head backwards as he continues
rocking into my pulsing sex, bringing his thumb lightly
across my lips. “Fuck you’re beautiful.” He groans as he
slips it into my mouth. He doesn’t tell me to suck, but I do. I
run my tongue along the digit, twisting my head away as he
pops into my mind. The way he felt in my mouth and I push
hard, meeting Liam thrust for thrust. His hands taunting my
hardened nipples through the silk of the dress my tormentor
picked out for me.
This is wrong.
Liam moans as his cock swells inside me, his hand capturing
my throat, “Look at me Layla.” I do. The look in his eyes sets
me on fire so thoroughly I’m burning up right alongside him.
Suddenly he jerks me up, placing me on his lap, my dress
falling around us as I ride him, grinding my clit into him as
he pistons up into me. Perfectly in sync. He grips my wrists
in his large hands, pinning them behind my back as he fucks
me mercilessly. My breasts bouncing with the force of his
thrusts as they grow jerky and frantic. I feel myself start to
tighten as I lean forward kissing him deeply, I cry out on his
lips as I come undone on top of him. Still riding the waves of
my orgasm as he explodes inside me. I don’t know how long
we stay like that, working out six months’ worth of physical
contact, but the moment I pull him out of me guilt floods in.
Although I’m not sure what I feel guilty about exactly. Am I
placing a target on his back? Will this hurt him?
You shouldn’t care, but I think I do.
I walk towards the bottle on his desk, avoiding his eyes as
my fuzzy head raves. I pour a bit more than I mean to as I
tip it back, some of it spilling out onto my chest, his come
dripping down my legs. I gasp as Liam turns me towards
him, bending and softly licking the line of alcohol from my
chest up to the corner of my mouth before capturing my lips
again.
“Why did you go away?” He asks, his voice gravelly.
I freeze, not sure how to respond. “I’m scared.” Blurting it
out before I think better of it. He once again pulls me into
him, I stumble in my heels, the room tilting around us.
I am definitely drunk.
“Stay with me at my house tonight. He won’t be able to hurt
you there. I’ll always protect you Layla, if you’ll let me.
Please let me.” I pull back, looking into his pleading eyes as
I nod. Although I mostly just don’t want to be alone.
“What about Peaches?”
He smiles, “I’ll have you home in the morning before she
even wakes up. Promise.”
I know it’s irrational to worry about her. She’s perfectly fine.
Plenty of food, water and toys. He gently lifts my head, “Do
you want to go get her?” I give him a weak smile before
nodding.
“I’ll just…meet you at your place after I grab her. I can take
an Uber or something.” My own words fill me with dread as I
take a step back. A step away from the safety he offers.
It’s not safe for him. It’s not safe for me.
“No fucking way in hell you’re leaving my side.” He growls
and my heart skips a beat.
This can’t last. I’ll lean on him… but only for tonight. No
matter how badly it hurts, I can’t put more people at risk.
He gently drapes his suit jacket over my shoulders,
straightening my dress and my hair as he leads me out of
his office, only now do I notice how drunk he is too. The
slight slur to his words nearly matches mine. His usually
perfect coordination is slightly off kilter. Nothing compared
to the way I stumble in my heels. By the time we hit the
elevator my mind is swimming. That didn’t stop me from
snatching the bottle of absinthe from his desk and tucking it
into his jacket. If my stalker is going to kill me tomorrow, I
might as well enjoy my last night alive. I ignore Liam’s
disapproving glare as I sneak a quick swig before the
elevator doors open, the gala still in full swing. “Hey!” I
protest as he removes the bottle from my hand, discarding
it on a nearby table as he leads me out into the crowd.
Unfazed by abandoning the no doubt ridiculously expensive
liquor.
I’m drunk drunk.
“I need to let Brandon know he’s on his own for the rest of
the night, then we’ll have my driver take us to your place.
Okay?”
Fancy.
I nod, plopping down at a table. “I’ll wait here. I don’t think I
can navigate right now.” I mumble, surprised by how much
my words are slurring.
“I’ll carry you, you aren’t leaving my side.” He says before
reaching for my arm to lift me. I snatch it away, “For fuck’s
sake. Where could I possibly go? I’ll stay right here, I
promise.”
He clenches his jaw, “Layla…”
“Liam…”
He groans, running his hand through his hair, “Stay right
here. Do not leave or so help me- “
“Yeah, yeah, punishment games. I remember.” I say a little
too loudly, making the people around us stare. My cheeks
flush as I stare down at my hands, pretending they are the
most interesting thing on the planet. He hesitates, I mean
really hesitates before heading off in search of Brandon.
He’s being weird even by Liam standards.
You’re also fucked up. Like fucked up.
I do my best to avoid scanning the room for a familiar pair
of brown eyes, nearly jumping out of my seat as someone
clears their throat beside me. My head spins as Grace
Curran glares down at me, her thin arms crossed tightly
around her chest.
“You seem to have enjoyed yourself, distracting my son
from his obligations.” She sneers.
You have no idea.
I can’t stop the giggle that escapes from my mouth. “Liam is
a grown man. He can make his own decisions. I didn’t
distract him from anything.”
“You won’t be laughing when he tires of you, throwing you
out just like all the others. Liam doesn’t get attached,
darling. Especially to nosey girls with a lower… pedigree
than his.” I frown, her condescending tone burning straight
through me.
What the fuck is her problem? What fucking others?
I stand on wobbly legs trying to move around her before she
grips my arm tightly, jerking me back towards her and
making me stumble. “You think you know him, but you
don’t. If I were you I’d count my lucky stars his attention is
fleeting. Heaven knows I tried to correct the boy. Having
that attention isn’t what you think it is.” Something in her
eyes makes bile rise to my throat, I clench my fist, trying to
convince myself all of the reasons why it’s not socially
acceptable to punch your ex’s mom in the face. Number one
being a toddler could probably beat me in a fist fight.
Especially tonight.
My eyes widen as her hand gets wrenched from mine, Liam
bending it back at the wrist in an awkward angle, “Never
fucking touch her.” He warns, his voice sending chills down
my spine.
That voice…
“Liam, let go.” I whisper, tugging on his sleeve lightly. He
blinks a few times, still holding his mom’s wrist as she grits
her teeth, looking too scared to move.
She’s scared… of him.
He flings her arm from him like it’s diseased, wiping his
hand on his pants leg before tugging me towards him and
turning us away from the startled woman. My anxiety
prickles as my drunk mind struggles to keep up.
“See? He’s not right, never was.” She spits at us, making
Liam turn back despite my desperate attempt to keep him
from doing so. He can’t do this here.
“If there’s something so wrong with me, why did you come
tonight? I haven’t seen you in months.” He asks, towering
over her, still gripping me at the waist.
“You know why I’m here,” Her eyes flick towards me, then
back to him, “and you’re my son.”
He scoffs, his lips twisting into a cruel smile, “You know I
was never yours. It’s a shame your well ran dry Grace, you
never were very good with money.” Something passes
between them, some hidden meaning behind that first
statement that I'm not keyed in on. I can tell by the look in
her brown eyes. Her thin painted lips pressed firmly shut as
he leads me from the gala. He waits until we’re clear of
most of the crowd before he suddenly bends, picking me up
and cradling me tightly to his chest. I don’t protest as the
room sways uncomfortably around me, my eyelids heavy.
He runs his fingers across the red finger marks on my arm,
and I’m too scared to look into his eyes.
Never touching absinthe again.

I don’t know exactly when I pass out. The entire car ride is
vague at best. I think I can remember the jingle of Peaches’
collar as she hopped into the backseat.
What happened to getting a driver?
I groan as I struggle to open my eyes as Liam cradles me
tightly to his chest. We’re at his house. Everything smells
like him. A faint smile spreads across my face. It would be
so easy to slip back into this life with this man.
I can’t. What he did to Mr. Danvers it was wrong, it doesn’t
matter how noble his intentions were. I trusted him when he
said he wouldn’t hurt him. He lied.
Will Liam even let me go after this? God, why do my arms
and legs feel so heavy? I’m so tired. I lick my dry lips as he
hums a song… it’s familiar. So familiar.
Liam?
Liam
I watch her as she settles back into sleep, knowing she’s out
for good. I don’t want to sit her down. I want to hold her like
this all night. Being with her only fueled an already raging
fire inside me. I could see the hesitation in her eyes tonight,
the fear. She was pulling away from me. That simply won’t
do, I need Layla to snap so viscerally she can’t exist without
my hand to hold. My arms to steady her.
That means I’ve got work to do.
She’s utterly lifeless as I strip the red dress off her smooth
skin, taking extra care to touch her delicate curves as she
lays there on my bed wrapped in the silk sheets. Using a
warm rag to wipe away the makeup covering her beautiful,
bruised skin.
She’s where she always should be, snuggled comfortably in
my bed. Our bed.
I watch her closely, a bubble of panic rising in my chest as I
lean in close to her mouth waiting for her to take another
breath. When she does, I close my eyes and put my
forehead against hers relieved beyond words. I wasn’t sure
how many of her sleeping pills would render her entirely
unresponsive. Sure, I could’ve used GHB but I wasn’t sure
how it would react with her anxiety medication.
If she did die, I’d be close behind her and I don’t particularly
feel like committing suicide, not when we’re so close to our
happily ever after.
I smile, rubbing my hand over her stomach, imagining what
it will look like swollen with my children. I’ve wanted her to
get pregnant from the first moment I saw her. She’d be an
amazing mother. For so many reasons it would take too long
to list. The idea of something made from me growing inside
her, tying us together in such a meaningful way, makes my
heart thump painfully in my chest.
Granted, doing this is more of a failsafe if plan A doesn’t
work out.
I want her to want me, to need me of her own free will, not
out of obligation to our future children. Gently lifting her and
slipping one of my white t-shirts over her head before I slip
off her soaked underwear. When she tried to leave me, my
stubborn little star made me take back all the clothes I had
bought her. They all hang in my closet just the way they
would’ve had she never left. I leave her there, heading into
the bathroom to wash my hands and put on the gloves I
already prepared.
Latex free because she’s allergic.
I’ve read extensively about this, I’m sure I can do it without
too much discomfort on her part. The only issue is her
sleeping through it. One of the many reasons I had to bury
myself in that tight little cunt of hers tonight, to explain the
soreness.
Not that sex with Layla needs any ulterior motives.
Watching her come apart on me, the way her pink lips part
as she pants…her breasts heaving.
I shake those thoughts away stretching my back slightly. It’s
stiff from pretending to be drunk all night. Not to mention
the endless hours crouched in the fucking woods. I figured it
would make her feel more comfortable if I was drunk too.
Taking a deep breath I gently part her legs, making sure
they are bent enough so that she’s spread wide before me. I
can’t help but smirk as I look at her pink, glistening flesh.
Knowing some of me is still deep inside her. I run my
lubricated fingers down her slit, prodding lightly to test how
well the pills are working. When she doesn’t move I press
harder, slipping my fingers deep inside, giving her time to
adjust before pressing further and deeper, feeling around for
the string. I damn near shit myself when she groans,
adjusting against the pressure. Not breathing again until I’m
sure her amber-colored eyes aren’t about to flutter open.
Her waking up to find me knuckle deep in her vagina would
be… difficult to explain. When I feel the texture of the string,
I grip it between my gloved fingers, steeling myself before I
start to pull slow and steady, careful not to hurt her
anymore than necessary. She whimpers quietly, making me
bite down on my inner cheek.
Almost done little love, hang in there.
I let out a heavy breath as the IUD slides from her. After
dropping the contraceptive down inside a glove, I head back
into the bathroom for another warm wash cloth. I take my
time cleaning her up, making soft strokes as slowly as I can
before slipping clean underwear over her legs. Smiling at
the prickles of hair that tickle my fingers, she could be
covered like a wild boar and it wouldn’t make a difference to
me. Words can’t begin to explain how much I’ve missed
simply existing in her presence. I pull the covers up over her
before leaning down and kissing her temple, inhaling her
scent deeply. Thankfully she passed out in the car earlier, so
I could get the particularly nasty stuff done at the little
farmhouse. Of all things I’ve done, that was the only thing
that I took no pleasure in. I know how much those walls
meant to her, the things inside that house are important to
my little star. Sacrifices must be made, and I was careful not
to destroy anything entirely irreplaceable. I’m hovering on
cloud nine as I change into a t-shirt and sweatpants, making
sure Peaches found her way to her old bed and naturally,
she’s right at home here.
It’s like they never left.
Debating showering I quickly decide against it, not ready to
wash her off my dick. I flick on the night light Layla always
needed when she was here. I personally can’t stand
sleeping with lights on, but I’ve done it every night since
she hesitantly admitted she needed one. To feel closer to
my little love, I suppose. I just didn’t feel right leaving it off
all night. What if she came home and got scared?
I frown, looking up from my conference video call as Layla
enters the garage door, making a beeline for the bedroom. I
clench my jaw as I notice the plastic bag tucked underneath
her arm.
Hiding something, are we little star?
I don’t warn Brandon or anyone else as I leave the call,
pushing from the desk in my in-home office.
Relax Liam, it could be nothing.
My heart races all the same. Enraging thoughts of all the
things she could try to hide from me, rushing through my
mind. Slipping in behind her, I watch her struggle with the
tape on a… box? Still completely oblivious to me standing in
the doorway. I watch as she bends over, making her baby
blue sundress ride up, showing the bottom of her white lacy
underwear.
You most certainly shouldn’t have left wearing that.
That’s what I get for getting too wrapped up in work. Not
paying close enough attention to my little star. We’ve only
been dating for about a month. It’s been the best month of
my life. My frown only deepens as she plugs the small light
into a wall outlet sliding it to the back of my dresser. The
hollow drawers I cleared out for her are still empty, another
point of contention.
“A nightlight?” I ask, not trying to hide my amusement as
she jumps, quickly standing in front of the little lamp. Her
cheeks flushing a beautiful shade of pink, “Uhm, yeah, I can
take it out. Sorry, I guess I should’ve asked.” I smile, walking
over and pulling her into me by her waist as she stares at
the floor.
“You never have to ask, little star. I am curious why you’ve
went through the trouble of sneaking a small light into my
house.” She bites her lip, making my cock harden in my
pants. I gently tilt her head up, tugging it free from her
teeth as she turns her pretty amber eyes to mine. “I guess I
never really stopped being afraid of the dark.” She admits
shyly before groaning and burying her head in my chest. I
shouldn’t laugh, but I do. “Don’t laugh at me.” She
mumbles, leaving her head buried.
She wraps her legs around me as I lift her, sitting her on the
drawer. “I don’t mind a night light if it makes you feel more
comfortable.” I kiss her nose gently, “You should’ve told me
sooner.”
“It’s embarrassing.”
That won’t do.
I grip her chin tightly, pressing my forehead against hers,
“You never have to be embarrassed around me, Layla. I’m
entirely enamored with every part of you. You’re mine,
right?”
“Yours.” She responds, smiling. I could stare at that smile
every second of every day, and it still wouldn’t be enough.

I slip into the sheets, wrapping my arm around Layla as she

cuddles into my chest, my exhaustion finally hitting me in
full force. I haven’t been getting shit for sleep lately
between watching her, our little games, and everything I do
for Curran Enterprises. It’s been… taxing to say the least
but she’s worth every sleepless night. I bury my head in her
curly hair, trailing my fingers up and down her arm as my
eyes grow heavy. I hum our song, it’s a risk, sure but I like to
think I’m filling her dreams with it.
“Sweet dreams, little star.” I whisper, kissing the top of her
head, “I love you. More than you know.”

OceanofPDF.com
I groan as I adjust, pressing my face deep into the soft
pillow, trying to dampen the pounding in my head. Frowning
as Peaches’ wet nose pokes at my cheek, trying to shove
her away.
“Peaches, come on.”
My heart jumps from my chest as Liam’s voice fills my ears.
Distant and foggy memories of last night flooding in.
Oh God, where’s my phone?
Liam looks like a Greek God standing in the doorway of his
bedroom, the sun glistening off his tattooed chest. I
hesitantly drag my eyes from him as I shuffle out of bed,
ignoring the dizziness that follows me up, “Where’s my
phone?”
He steps inside the room, the bulge in his sweatpants
teasing at the fabric. It’s daunting even when he’s not hard.
“On the dresser. Slow down Layla, you had a long night.” I
shuffle to the dresser, a wave of nausea slamming into me
like a brick wall making me grip my mouth.
Don’t throw up. Don’t throw up.
“My alarm didn’t go off?” I ask, trying to steel myself so I
can move without falling victim to my turbulent stomach
and pounding headache.
“I shut it off last night. It was ringing incessantly.” He says a
matter-of-factly as if he had every fucking right. Suddenly I
care a lot less about the state of my stomach and more
about the anger flaring inside of me. “Do you have any idea
what you’ve done?” Liam raises a thick eyebrow, taking a
step towards me as I recoil, only now noticing I’m only
wearing one of his t-shirts.
He changed me… No, no, fuck this.
I jerk my phone from the dresser, “Where the fuck is my
dress?”
I glare as he grasps my shoulders, “Layla relax, you’re safe
here. I won’t let him touch you.”
“I can’t stay here forever, Liam! You have no clue what he’s
like. Nobody will help me!” I yell, trying to wiggle loose from
his grasp, ignoring the soreness between my legs. His eyes
darken, making me still, if only for a moment before I
resume my struggling. “Why the fuck not Layla? Why can’t
you stay here? I want to keep you safe. Why won’t you let
me help you?” His deep voice takes on a familiar gravelly
note as I finally jerk free from his arms.
“Because we won’t work, Liam. Not after what you did!” The
words leave me before I can register them, making my heart
thump painfully in my chest. I watch his jaw clench as he
closes his eyes, taking a deep breath, fisting his hands
before opening and closing them again.”
“Explain to me what I did that was so wrong so I can fix it.”
After all this time, you want to fucking fix it?
“If I have to explain it to you, there’s really no point. Where
is my dress?” I want to tell him, I want to cry and scream at
the top of my lungs, telling him how he betrayed my trust.
How he broke my heart the day I left him.
But I don’t. I can’t. I’m splitting apart at the seams.
I don’t have a chance to scream before he lunges for me,
pushing me into the dresser as his hand captures my throat,
“What was I supposed to say Layla? You stood there and
tore my fucking heart out. What was I supposed to say!? Tell
me the right words and I’ll say them! You’re supposed to be
mine!” I just stare at him, his chest rising and falling quickly
with anger as those intense eyes bore into me.
I’m supposed to be yours, yes. How could I possibly be when
I’m living underneath his thumb? God knows what he’ll do to
me for coming here. What price I’ll pay for feeling safe for
one night?
This moment right here with you is all I’ve dreamed of for
far too many months. The moment you want to fix things,
the moment you fight for me. Of course, it comes when I
can’t have you. The deafening sound of another crack
forming in my heart nearly drowns out our heavy breathing
as I realize what I have to do, to protect myself…to protect
him. Wrapping him into this would be wrong, as much anger
as I feel towards him he doesn’t deserve my baggage. Not
when it comes with such a heavy price. I can’t survive
another person I care for having a target painted on their
back.
“Peaches come!” I yell, placing my hands on his chest, the
rapid beating of his heart drums beneath my palms. It
matches mine and for once, I think we’re on the same page.
“I’m warning you Layla, don’t.”
I don’t want to.
Peaches pads into the room, her heavy steps slow as she
takes in the scene before her. I hate this. I fucking hate this.
I’m sorry I have to use her against you. I know you love her,
you let me keep her to keep me safe. But I’m not safe and
neither are you
“Watch him.”
Liam shakes his head as she inches closer, her tail no longer
wagging as she pushes her enormous frame in between us,
growling, teeth barred when he doesn’t move.
“You need to let me go. For good, god this was a mistake. I
don’t fucking want you, Liam. I was drunk and you look
advantage. Let me go.”
Pain flashes through those blue eyes, snapping me like a
twig as a strange calmness takes over his sculpted face. His
high freckled dusted cheekbones look so smooth my fingers
twitch with the need to touch him. He releases me slowly,
taking small steps back to the wall before leaning up against
it as if nothing happened. I gawk, dumbfounded, unsure of
what to do or say as he speaks. His voice is cool and
chipped. “Whatever you say, little star.”
A whimper leaves my throat at the use of his old nickname
for me. This is the man that broke my heart. This version of
Liam that I hate. He cocks his head to the side slightly,
sending a chill up my spine. Maybe whatever breed of
fucked up my monster I, lives inside Liam too. He remains
there watching me with familiar uncomfortable intensity as I
search for my dress. Coming up empty, I opt for taking
some of his pajama pants.
Consider us even.
I gasp as I flick on the lights in his walk-in closet, all of my
clothes hanging exactly as I left them. My hands tremble as
traitorous tears spill from my eyes. I don’t ask and he
doesn’t offer an explanation not that either of us need one. I
know what this means, and it makes it hurt so much more
than I ever thought possible. I don’t bother hiding myself as
I strip, his eyes never leaving me, not even as I gawk at the
fact that he changed my underwear at some point last
night. Strange things like that used to make me fall so much
harder for him. He was always so… attentive.
Uncomfortably so, but I loved it. I loved-
“If you need me, don’t hesitate to call. You don’t have to do
this alone Layla, you don’t have to be alone.”
I’m not, that’s the problem. He will never let me be alone.
I’m not doing this to you Liam, I’m doing it for you.

My day gets exponentially worse after I call into work

expecting to be berated for my absence. I’m not. Apparently
Mr. Curran called in on my behalf, letting Blinked know I
would be absent for the next few days. As the Uber pulls
into my driveway, I apologize for the one hundredth time for
sobbing like a maniac in the back of her car. Using up all the
tissues she had in her purse and having to revert to wiping
snot on Liam’s shirt.
“Uhm ma’am your door.” The older woman points nervously
towards my house. My heart lurches to my throat at the
sight of my front door caved in on itself. My hands shake as I
pull out my phone, quickly dialing 911, Peaches whines as
she nestles her head on my lap.
“I’m… I’m so sorry. I’m calling the police.” I mumble fresh
tears running down my cheeks as I force my hand to open
up the car door.
“911, what is your emergency?”
Why can’t I speak?
I meet the eyes of the older lady as she holds out her hand
for the phone, I don’t think as I hand it over closing the door
again. I can’t hear her words as she speaks to the
dispatcher, can’t even bring myself to care if they show up.
What difference will it make? What will he do to punish me
for my absence? Does he know I was with another man? I
rest my forehead against the cold glass, staring blankly into
the ruined front entrance of my grandpa’s house…my home.
I can tell the damage continues inside. Why wouldn’t it? I
betrayed him. That was clear by the bulk of texts I received
as my phone came to life earlier. He felt hurt, betrayed.
Thank God Peaches wasn’t home. He warned me there
would be consequences if I disobeyed him…I was so sure I
had the answers. So sure he was Liam. Now I’ve declared
open season on everyone I know. Everything I care about.
I wish he’d just fucking end it already.
Maybe I should beat him to it.
Layla, Age Eighteen
I stumble into the front door, making it smack against the
wall loudly. I cringe as my eyes dart towards the old clock
that hangs in the kitchen. 3am grandpa should be asleep.
My head swims as I quietly shut it behind me, fighting the
effects of the weed and alcohol as I trudge towards the
refrigerator.
Just a little snack.
I groan as a jar of pickles slips from my hands, shattering on
the linoleum floor at my feet.
Fuckfuckfuck.
“Layla, where have you been?”
I freeze, letting the refrigerator door slowly shut as it reveals
the face I want to see least at the moment. My grandpa
stands in the archway, his brawny arms crossed against his
chest. He looks so… disappointed.
“Before you lie, I can smell the booze and pot from here.”
His tone is chipped, but not angry. Even after all these
years, I expect each mistake no matter the severity to be
met with explosive rage. It never is, not anymore. Only love
and understanding, but still my heart hammers in my chest.
I don’t respond as I squat, picking up the broken shards of
glass. I relate more to these shattered pieces than I did with
any of the kids at my school. A gasp leaves my throat as I
unfurl my fingers, I hadn’t even realized I fisted my hand.
Shit…
“Layla…” grandpa’s concerned voice washes over me just
before his arms find mine. He kneels on the floor, his knees
popping as he goes. Pulling me into another warm hug. I
don’t know why I’m like this. So…destructive. He’s been so
kind to me, shown me nothing but love since the day I
arrived with nowhere else to go. No one left but him.
He’s endlessly patient, and I don’t deserve it.
“Please don’t send me back to Fairview.” I whisper.
“Child, I never wanted to send you there. The hospital said-“
I cut him off, “I know. It was for the best.”
“Let’s get you cleaned up. I have something I want to tell
you.” He says as he slowly stands, tugging me up on wobbly
knees as he directs me towards the small dining room table
in the kitchen. I try to fight the bubble of anxiety in my
chest. All the work I’ve put in getting fucked out of my mind
is erased as it pops to the surface. I’ve always been like
this…scared and nervous about everything. I know logically
it was a good thing to be sent somewhere I could get help,
but that didn’t make it feel any better being there. All the
eyes on me all the time, I felt so exposed. It was my fault,
after what I did…I couldn’t keep it together. They said I had
a nervous breakdown, tried to kill myself.
It didn’t matter how many times I tried to tell them I didn’t
want to die. I suppose since I couldn’t provide a better
explanation for running out into the woods with no shoes in
the middle of the night screaming like a crazy person and
getting lost for nineteen hours, they just kinda went with
that story. I wasn’t any calmer when the search party found
me huddled underneath a tree. That’s when my fear of the
dark got… unreasonable.
What’s one more thing to be endlessly anxious about?
I watch tentatively as his strong, calloused hands clean the
deep cut on my much softer and smaller ones, the smell of
rubbing alcohol only slightly masking the smell of his
aftershave. A scent I’ve come to associate with a calmness
only this man in this house has ever instilled in me. He takes
a deep breath, it’s strange to see him looking so heavy. His
light hearted personality is one of the few things keeping
my head above water.
“Your grandmother, she struggled. Struggled like no one I
had ever seen before. I watched that woman fight the same
demons for twelve years. Her daddy, like yours, was a slave
to the bottle. He did things so…sickening to her, some of
them still make me lie awake at night.” I look up briefly,
meeting his somber eyes before he pulls them from me,
continuing to wrap my hand in the gauze bed gotten from
the hallway closet. “Of all things he did I think the most
damaging, the cruelest was to pass along his predisposition
for addiction. The first taste of alcohol she got…it took hold
of her. I watched her fight it for years, especially when she
got pregnant with your father.” My hands start to tremble,
my heart constricting painfully. He just holds on tighter,
tighter than I ever could.
I don’t want to hear this.
“I never thought I would forgive her when I caught her eight
months pregnant with that damn bottle in her hand. She
loved him, loved him so much. Loved us both Layla, in a
way I will never understand.” I scoff as anger prickles inside
my chest, my self control diminished by the alcohol. “She
loved him so much she tried to drown him in alcohol before
he was born.” He ignores my comment, making me clench
my fists painfully. My cut screaming against the gauze.
Why are you always so understanding, so fucking patient
with me? I’m not…I don’t…deserve you. I deserved him, and
I let him die. I let your son die.
“Fetal alcohol syndrome is a scary thing, but we got through
it. She fought through treatment when they tried to take
him from us. We fought together, hand in hand, and every
time she would slip I would hold those shaking hands until
she came back to us. God, all things considered she was an
excellent mother. She loved that little boy with every fiber of
what made her a human being.”
Stop it.
“She loved us both so much, she had convinced herself our
only chance at happiness was without her in it.” His voice
breaks, shattering my heart in an instant, wiping the
bitterness from my soul. “Your dad was only six when she
took her own life, don’t think he ever forgave her for it. It
wasn’t until he was thirteen, I got a glimpse of how deep
that familiar demon had rooted in him. Boy never had a
chance.”
I don’t want to feel sorry for him. Please stop.
I stand abruptly from the stool, “He died in a pool of his own
vomit just like he deserved!” My breath starts to come in
heavily until the pants dissolve into sobs, making my chest
heave. The wounded look on his face hurts, but not nearly
as much as the understanding…the pity. He stands slowly, a
habit he took up shortly after I came to live with him.
Must’ve gotten tired of watching me flinch every time he
reached for the TV remote.
Shame fills me as I walk to him, resting my throbbing head
on his chest, “I’m sorry.”
He works his hands through my tangled hair, “I’m sorry. I’m
sorry, you’ll never know how sorry. Your grandmother is
sorry and your dad is sorry, but it doesn’t change a thing.” I
pull back as my breathing slows, wiping the tears from my
bloodshot eyes, “How did you forgive her?”
He stares off into the living room where a portrait hangs
right above her favorite chair, a chair that remains empty
now and has ever since I can remember. It’s an unspoken
rule that it shouldn’t be sat in, as silly as that may seem. “All
of our years together, she made me feel like the most loved
man in the world. Had that kind of love that blinded you to
everything else. She never wore a mask. What you saw in
Zoe, you got. If you’re ever fortunate enough to find
someone that loves you so ferociously, it turns your world
inside out with napalm skies. Never let them go.” He cups
my face gently in his hands, giving me his warmest smile,
“Life is fleeting, Layla. I’m an old man. I’m sure the things I
prattle on about must sound silly to you. They would’ve to
me at that age.” I chuckle, happy we’re back to this
lighthearted version of him.
“Keep your head above the water. What they had it’s in you.
You can have the happy ending they never got. You gotta be
kind to yourself. Give me your keys.”
What?
“Why?” I ask, dumbfounded by the change in topic.
“You’re drunk and I assume you drove home, yes?” His old
eyes stare down at me, making me feel an inch tall. I don’t
argue as I fish them from the back of my pickle juice stained
back pocket, sitting them in his hand.
He smiles at me, “If anything ever happened to you Layla, I
couldn’t go on. I’m not saying you can’t have fun kid, just
need to be smarter than that. Now, how about you get the
mop and I’ll make us some bacon pancakes?” I nod, unable
to stop the smile from spreading over my face at the
mention of my two favorite foods.
“I love you, grandpa.”
“Love you more.”

“Miss. Burke, have you taken anything today?”

I blink my dry eyes rapidly, God I need to stop zoning out. It
doesn’t help I’m still groggy and nauseous as all fuck. “I
already told you I got drunk last night. That’s why I didn’t
come home. That and I have a stalker that I’m pretty sure
wants to kill me.” I snap, just as tired of seeing Officer
Daniel’s ugly face as he is of seeing mine. “Is there
genuinely nobody else more qualified to respond to my
calls?”
“I may look young, ma’am but I assure you I am qualified.
There’s simply been nothing for us to go on. The only
person who seems to have ever seen this man is you.”
You don’t look that young, prick.
I throw up my hands, standing up abruptly from my porch
step, “Isn’t that the point of a stalker?”
He ignores my question, scribbling something down in that
stupid notebook he always has stuck in his face. I only
barely resist the urge to jerk it from his hands and read all
the chicken scratches for myself.
He thinks you’re fucking crazy.
“You had your security system repaired after our last visit.
Any idea why that didn’t alert about the break in?”
“I told you he’s been watching me. They found cameras
tucked away all throughout my house the first time they
came. He probably saw me enter the alarm code a hundred
times.”
He raised a dark eyebrow at me, narrowing eyes I once
mistook for kind, “And you never changed it?”
“What fucking difference would it have made? Have you
even tried tracing the number?”
“The number used to contact you is well hidden. Routed
through hundreds if not thousands of different places. I
understand you took a computer science class in college,
yes?”
“Yeah, and I failed out of it. What the fuck could that
possibly have to do with the fact that my life is being torn
apart by a fucking psychopath?” I scream as my body
trembles. My muscles sore from how often they’ve been
doing that lately.
“Compose yourself Miss. Burke.” He warns.
Compose myself…COMPOSE MYSELF.
“Leave. Get off my property.” I state blankly as my heart
drums in my chest. Angry tears filling my eyes.
“Layla…”
I ignore him turning to head back into the remnants of my
destroyed house, stopping just in the doorway to turn back
to him, “I hope when he tires of me, you’re the one that
finds my corpse.” The shocked expression on his face
doesn’t fill me with half the satisfaction I thought it would as
I close the door that half hangs from the hinges.
That’s how this ends, right?
I die, we both die or I…what? Succumb to the Stockholm
Syndrome and ride off into the sunset on my stalker’s
ridiculously large dick? Peaches pads up behind me as I walk
over broken glass and fragmented wood kneeling beside the
old reading chair that sits in the corner of my living room.
Where it’s always been, it’s beautiful rich vintage floral
pattern is unrecognizable with its cushions cut open and
strewn about the room.
I’m sorry, grandpa.
I lean my head on the tattered seat as my eyes take in the
nearly healed cut on my arm, and all the subsequent
bruises that came after that. Ranging from yellow to purple.
I take a deep breath as my phone buzzes in my back pocket.
Unknown : A psychopath, Layla? You wound me.
Layla: Will this ever end?
….
Unknown: Of course it ends, how although is entirely
up to you. What you did… the things you said it hurt
me. Why do you do that? Hurt me?
….
Being with Liam? What things did I say that hurt him? Why
isn’t he threatening to kill everyone I know?
I don’t even care how he heard my conversation with the
cops. I’m not surprised he can. I’m entirely trapped
underneath his thumb. Just where he wants me. As of now, I
see no exit.
Layla: They don’t believe me.
….
Unknown: Do you believe yourself? The things that
you call me? Your tormentor, your stalker… if I’m
being honest, I don’t mind what label you attach to
me as long as you call me yours. I think you’ll feel
better if you’re honest about how I make you feel.
We’ll both feel better if you’d open your fucking
eyes. You’re smart Layla, so smart. Ignorance isn’t
always bliss.
I hesitate, I almost don’t send the message. My heart
pounds in my chest, my anxiety mixes with uncertainty.
Be honest with myself. What does he feel like?
Layla: Liam?
….
Unknown: Stalker, tormentor, Liam… you can call me
whatever you want, little love. I’m yours as much as
you are mine.
I shake my head to the empty house. Should’ve known
better than to expect a semblance of closure. I’ve never had
that, not ever. Never so much as a glimpse.
Unknown: Sorry about your house. I got angry. I’ll fix
it if you want.
I shut off my phone, scratching the top of Peaches’ large
head before I lead her out to the backyard. Tying her off to
her dog house, which ironically enough was one of the few
things left untouched. That and my grandpa’s room. My
head pounds as I pick up broken glass, glimpsing the scar
on my palm. It nearly brings a smile to my face.
Nearly.

OceanofPDF.com
 Saint Bernard by Lincoln
L iam
A frustrated growl slips out as pain rips through my fist. I
take a deep breath, gripping the black marble countertops,
now painted over with blood as I drive my fist again into the
shattering mirror in my bathroom.
One week since she’s started ignoring me. Acting like I
wasn’t there. One fucking week.
It doesn’t matter how I try to provoke her. How many times I
text, threaten or call she pretends she can’t see me. I have
to be seen by her. Why all of this restraint now? After she
was getting so close, she knows it’s me. She has to.
My sweet little star… what the fuck are you doing to me?
I shake my head, staring at my blue eyes and copper hair in
the mirror, my mother’s voice grating against my eardrums.
Playing on repeat and shoving me further down the rabbit
hole. I’ll admit, I hadn’t expected Layla to request
information about me. Not that it bothers me, it’s easier this
way her finding out the less than savory aspects of what
made me instead of us having a long conversation where I
won’t know the correct things to say ninety percent of the
time. Another thing that has plagued me with unnecessary
stress in all this is my contemptible mother. She was
naturally tipped off when Layla requested that particular
information as well. Something that directly affects her just
as much as it does me.
God forbid anything casts a dark cloud over Curran Manor.
I know better than most there is no limit to that woman’s
depravity. Which paints a target on the back of my little
love. Nobody is allowed to threaten her but me. Mother…
ever delusional, tasked me with taking care of what she
dubbed the fiancé problem. Praying I’ll fix it before certain
repulsive facts of her past come to light. I laugh, cracking
my neck slightly as I rinse the blood from my hands staring
at my fractured reflection.
I have every intention of taking care of it, mother.
I pick up my phone dialing the number of the personal
investigator Layla conned into getting the information for
her, a man I unfortunately know well. The whole family did.
Being a Curran isn’t all bad, it certainly comes with some
perks. Even the less savory kind.
“Mr. Curran, hello.”
I don’t bother with pleasantries, “Don’t destroy any files, I
want you to deliver it to Miss. Burke, but wait for my word.”
He hesitates, I can hear the faint sound of him taking a long
draw of a cigarette he’s smoking, “Uhm, Mr. Curran the file
has certain- “
“I know what the file says. As far as Grace Curran is
concerned you burned it exactly as you were told to.
Understood?”
“Your mother- “
“We both know what’s in the file. You’re a smart man. So
you tell me, are you in any position to say no?”
My hand tightens around the phone, willing myself to keep a
level head. I can’t go fucking shit up this late in the game.
Not when she’s on the line.
“I’ll wait for your word.” I can hear the apprehension in his
voice. He was never rich enough to make it to the husband
status with my mother, but stuck around long enough to
know our family keeps our word. The fact that I am
associated at all with the bloodsucking cunt makes bile rise
in my throat. I hang up the phone as I walk into my
bedroom, collapsing on the cool sheets as I stare at the
empty dog bed in the room’s corner. It takes very little to
remind myself why I’m doing all of this. As if I could forget.
I’ll bring you home soon, both of you.
My eyes slide to the framed picture of Layla that sits beside
my bed, my hand finding the crumbled fabric of her
underwear I stripped when she was here. Pulling it close to
me, her sweet scent lingers albeit faintly, mixed with the
chamomile lotion she wears. She insists it helps with her
anxiety, even though I’m pretty sure it’s more so the idea of
it that helps.
I remember that day like it was yesterday, the day I took
this picture of her sitting right where I’m laying now. The
blue hue from the lights underneath my bed, splay across
her gentle features, making her seem almost ethereal as
she stares up at the camera. Smiling…at me.
The people I would kill for that smile.
A string of automated texts floods her phone as I glance at
the clock. I hate the fact that I’ve come to expect no
response. I hate that I’ve let her get away with that this past
week. If it were up to me, I would’ve driven there days ago
and taken her sweet cunt, reminded her how much she
needs me, but I have a company to look after and a viper of
a mother to contend with. My company is another thing I
always had little interest in. It was my way out of the Curran
silver spoon fed way of life. I built what I have, and they
have no claim to it. All the years spent before I knew my
little love seem so frivolous now, slaving away in my office
fixated on making myself rise so far above them they have
to squint to see me. It feels like a distant dream. I close my
eyes, inhaling her underwear gripped tightly in my bleeding
fist as I slip into yet another night of restless sleep.
My eyes fly open, the lids still heavy from sleep as I jolt up
in bed. Her underwear falling free from where they rested
on my chest. The all-consuming aching void in my fucking
heart pushes my feet from my bed as I walk to my
bathroom. I don’t bother turning on the lights as I stare at
the fractured bloody reflection of the man in the mirror. He
looks like all the worst parts of me.
“Don’t do it Liam.”
My warning doesn’t matter. I had already decided before I
opened my eyes. I throw on a t-shirt, not changing from my
sleep ruffled gray sweatpants as I jerk my keys from the
counter. Pulling out my phone and calling in an overdue
debt as I head out of the door. Just a little push, I tell myself
but it’s a weak excuse. I just need her.
This is so fucking stupid. And I don’t care, not even a little.

The trees and lines turn to watercolor as the rain beats on

the windshield. Everything is a blur, the past ten months of
my life all cumulating in one stupid decision. One fucking
thing I shouldn’t do. It could ruin everything. This isn’t part
of the plan, but there’s no stopping me now.
She suspects me.
She’s not stupid and I don’t care. There’s one place I belong
and my bones and soul ache. Fuck the games I’ve played
trying to wiggle my way back to there.
Back to her.
The lights are on in the house when I jump out of my car. My
legs don’t ask for permission before they carry me through
the wind and rain. My hands don’t wait for my signal before
they beat on the thick wooden door. I’m going to ruin it all. I
have no backup story, no lie prepared to explain why I’m
here. Only the fact that every molecule in my body vibrates
with a need to be where she is. My heart thumps loudly in
my chest as her bright, timid eyes peek out from the
window.
She’s still scared. After everything.
I clench my shaking fists as the locks on her front door
unlatch one after another. Sealing our fate, memorializing
my moment of weakness in concrete. Water drips from my
hair onto my face as Layla swings the door open dressed in
a white crop top and matching shorts she loved to wear to
bed. A dark brown sweater hung lazily from her shoulders.
“Liam-“
Yes, say my name. It’s me, it’s been me.
I don’t let her finish as I cross the threshold, gripping her
head tightly in my cool wet hands. She gasps, but only for a
moment before she’s staring at me the way only she does.
But I’m not wearing that fucking mask.
She’s looking at me. I slam my mouth into hers. She makes
a strained sound in surprise, but doesn’t resist. No, she
melts against me. Her tongue running along my bottom lip
as I steer her to the wall. My hands knot in her wild beautiful
hair as I consume her. My rough frantic kisses met blow for
blow by hers. The taste of cheap red wine lingers on her
tongue. She moans as I jerk her shorts down, my fingers
testing the bare wet flesh that lies beneath them.
Did you do that for him, baby? For me?
I free my throbbing cock from my sweatpants, not bothering
to prepare her before I’m sliding into her wet cunt. If I’ve
learned anything the past few months it’s that my sweet
little star likes to be taken by surprise.
She doesn’t want to be ready for me.
She cries out as I lift her, wrapping her legs around my waist
as I slam us back into the foyer wall, ignoring the framed
picture that falls to the ground shattering as I piston my hips
in and out of her. Each thrust frantic and needy as if I’ll
never fuck her again. That thought has me gripping her
harder, fucking her harder.
“Liam!” She moans as I bite into her flesh. Me. I mark her
and she sees me stake my claim just the way it always
should’ve been. I don’t speak, I can’t find the words as she
grinds into me, her clit rubbing against me hungrily as I fuck
her there against the wall. She throws her head back, her
mouth open as she squeezes those pretty eyes shut.
No, that won’t do. You need to see me.
“Look at me Layla.” I groan as her breasts bounce in tune
with us, the hardened peaks pulled taunt against the tight
fabric of her shirt. I meet her eyes as my cock swells inside
her. “Fuck.” I moan, not ready yet. Far from ready to leave
her. She doesn’t want me to leave either her nails bite into
the flesh on my exposed neck.
“I’m…I’m gonna come.” She moans as she erupts around
me, crying out as those pretty eyes fill with tears. Her chest
heaving as I reach between us, rolling my hips and finding
her clit rubbing circles on the sensitive bud. She gasps,
trying to pull my hand away.
No.
“It’s too much.” She begs as I continue ramming my cock in
and out, her arousal dripping onto my legs. I nip at her soft
lips before kissing them roughly, “You’ll take it.” She bites
down on her lip, her legs trembling around my waist as she
cries out again. Her cunt gushes around me as I drill into
her, squeezing hard on her ass as I swell.
A growl forms deep in my chest, you’re mine. Every part of
you. “So fucking pretty.” I murmur as my cock jerks,
erupting inside of her. She has no clue what this could
mean, no idea what I’ve done. I pull out of her, letting her
crumple to the floor at my feet before I tuck myself back in
my pants, lowering to my knees beside her.
“I’ll always be beside you, Layla.” I whisper before pulling
her into my arms, my mouth finding hers again in another
frantic kiss.
Out of all the mistakes I’ve made, this is my favorite.
She’s breathing just as heavily as me, her head resting on
my chest. I peek over my shoulder, one hour is all I need to
do is get her to let me stay for another hour and I’ll wipe
myself clean from her suspicion. Her finding out too early
could derail everything. She isn’t broken. Not yet.
Layla
What in the actual fuck just happened?
I lay there wrapped in his arms, listening to his heart thump
loudly in his soaked chest as the storm rages on outside.
The old house groans against the wind as Peaches burrows
herself further underneath the blanket that had fallen from
the back of the couch.
More likely she pulled it off. She’s never liked storms.
I inhale his scent deeply one last time before I blow away
this peaceful moment. I don’t trust him, I don’t know who he
is, never did. God, if he’s not him …that’s even scarier. That
means his mere presence here puts his life at risk. Even if
he is my stalker…it’s a life a care so deeply about. I try to
pull away, sighing deeply when his arms are unrelenting in
their hold on me. His warm breath gracing the top of my
head, “Let me stay. I'll take care of you. That’s all I want.”
Those words send a chill down my spine as I wiggle free
from his grasp, “No, you need to go.” He groans in
frustration as he shoots to a stand. “Why Layla? Why are
you constantly complicating everything?”
I let out an exasperated breath, “I don’t trust you. You need
to go. As a matter of fact, it was a fucking mistake letting
you in. I seem to be doing that a lot lately.” Darkness falls
over his sculpted face as he takes a step towards me, “Oh,
you think you let me in?” I move backwards instinctively,
this darkness…I know it. I’ve come to know it so well over
the past few weeks. Peaches lurches to her feet growling as
a loud crash comes from my front door.
“The fuck?” He spits, still seething as he heads towards the
door, all of my earlier reservations forgotten as I grip his
forearm tightly. “Don’t open the door. Please, it’s him.” He
frowns, everything about his face says concern, anger and
frustration… everything except for those deep blue eyes. He
looks amused. I let go of his arm as he jerks open the door,
jumping backwards slightly as flame whips around on the
ground.
“Oh, my god…” I say my voice breaking, as I dash towards
the kitchen, no real objective in mind.
Ohmygod my house is on fire.
I flick on the water at the kitchen sink, jerking out the pull
out faucet before abruptly realizing that made no fucking
sense and it was less than the length of my arm. Amid my
mindless panicking, I’m only vaguely aware of Liam pushing
me gently out of the way. Shooting me a loaded look as he
pulls out the admittedly expired fire extinguisher from
underneath the sink. I follow behind him, my head goes
light. It calms me far less than it should when I realize the
fire is nearly out already. Liam pulls the pin from the
extinguisher, making an annoyed sound low in his chest as
the whole spraying mechanism falls apart.
Ohmygod.
“Layla relax.” He mutters, jerking the blanket still halfway
hanging off Peaches and snuffing out the remaining flames.
He tosses the singed cover back outside, toeing at the
broken glass, “A Molotov cocktail.” He turns, raising two
thick eyebrows as I crumble to the floor, all of my
exhaustion finally hitting me. Also, now very aware of his
come leaking into my underwear and shorts.
“Don’t start.” I warn him.
He shuts the door, locking it before grabbing the useless fire
extinguisher again. I can’t help the false sense of security
those locks give me as I push myself to my feet, my shaking
hands dialing 911.
“This expired in 2010, Layla for fuck’s sake.”
“For the love of God Liam, shut up.”
He walks to the drawer where I used to keep my anxiety
medication frowning as he pulls open the drawer, noticing
it’s not there. I shake my head. I know it’s stupid to refuse to
take it. I need it.
Badly.
“911, what is your emergency?”
They’ll have to believe me now.
Liam
I clench my fists together, staring at the hardwood floor as I
struggle to stay seated, listening to these pompous cops
speak to her like she hasn’t got two brain cells to rub
together is wearing on my nerves. Granted, the lack of help
from the police only benefits me in the end. Sure, I have
enough money to make most anything go away, but not
everyone can be bought.
“Miss. Burke, we aren’t saying we don’t believe you, it’s just
that we’ve been through this repeatedly and there’s been-“
Alright.
My dining chair screeches loudly through the battered walls
of Layla’s house as I abruptly stand from my seat. “How
about you do your fuck-“
“Liam!” Layla scolds me before pinching the bridge of her
nose. No doubt worrying about the amount if sleep she’ll
have for work tomorrow. It’s nearly three in the morning.
When I reach her, I trail my fingers down the soft skin on her
arm, making it break out in goosebumps. She watches me
as I pretend to take note of the actual state of her home.
Like I wasn’t the one who did it.
You don’t need to work little love. I can take care of you.
My jaw ticks as the cop, Adrien Daniels, turns his attention
to me, “Mr. Curran, have you seen the person playing
pranks on your girlfriend?”
Don’t smile.
“Fiancé.” I correct him, earning myself a scowl from my
adorably agitated Layla. “I haven’t, but as she already
explained to you, I was here when the cocktail was thrown. I
had to help her put it out.” I fight back another smirk as I
think about the way she frantically dashed around, like a
scared helpless little mouse. She needs me. He just nods, as
others finish pointlessly bagging the shattered glass, they
won’t find anything on them. Not only is my associate smart
enough to wear gloves, the fire and alcohol would have
thoroughly destroyed all trace evidence, anyway.
More importantly, I’ve etched another notch of doubt in my
girl’s mind. Another crack in her exterior.
Even now I can tell how exhausted she is leaning on me, as
if she can’t hold herself up. These moments being so close
to her… her needing me, it’s all I’ve wanted since the first
moment I met her.
“You can go too Liam.”
I beg your fucking pardon?
She takes a deep breath pushing off of me, “If you hadn’t
shown up tonight this wouldn’t have happened. I’m… his at
least for the time being.” Her voice breaks, tugging on the
strings of my heart as she grips her arms tightly across her
chest.
Yes… yes you are. All mine.
“Like fucking hell you are! How can you say that? These
incompetent fucks won’t write down your report, let alone-“
Officer Daniels steps closer, placing a hand between us.
Get your fucking hand away from her.
I turn, slamming my fist dead center in his chest, knocking
him back, fighting the smile when the others lingering
outside on the porch swarm jerking my hands behind my
back. I put on a good show, fighting their hold, turning my
attention back to Layla who is gawking at the scene. “Tell
them I can stay. Do it now.”
“I think it’s best you go home, Mr. Curran.” Officer Daniels
warns rubbing the spot where I punched him, as if it means
anything to me.
“Layla.” I spit out as they drag me outside.
She stares at the table, tears slipping down her flushed
cheeks and I want so badly to wipe them away for her. As
soon as Officer Daniels and his playground pals escort me to
my car, he flicks on the good cop switch, but I know better.
He doesn’t give a fuck about her. The thought annoys me,
enough to slice open his chest. I also know that if she didn’t
think it would cost his job, he would’ve arrested me already.
“Look Liam- “
“Mr. Curran.” I correct, clenching my jaw.
I make your salary every twenty minutes you fuck.
“Mr. Curran, I looked into her history, asked around. She’s
lived here a long time. It must’ve been hard losing her
grandpa after everything she went through with that dad of
hers…” He leans in like he’s telling me something I don’t
know.
I know everything about my little star, all the main bits
anyway but I don’t stress myself on it. We’ve got nothing
but time her and I.
“She found him, you know. Less than a year later, she had a
nervous breakdown, been under the care of a therapist
since….”
“Your point Officer?” I interrupt. It’s late and I’m tired of
hearing his voice. He glances down at my battered
knuckles, taking note.
Don’t become a problem I have to solve, Officer.
“It’s easy for women, especially ones that have been
traumatized by their fathers to excite themselves. Perhaps
for attention. Don’t worry too much about her, don’t get
yourself in trouble on her account, like hitting a cop. There’s
no evidence anything is actually happening to her.” He
adjusts his utility belt, leaning back against my car. I bite
down on my inner cheek, hard enough to draw blood before
responding carefully. Making sure everything is wiped clean
from my face, I sigh nodding back towards the house, “If
you really think that’s the case.”
He gives me a small smile before telling me to give her
space and sends me home.
The evidence was right in front of you. You were just too
stupid to see it.
I smile too as soon as I’m inside my car, a burst of laughter
escaping my throat. I’ll be seeing you soon, baby. Don’t you
worry. As I pull out, I look up, noticing Officer Daniels hadn’t
pulled onto the main road yet. His eyes trained on me.
Well, fuck.

OceanofPDF.com
L ayla
“Layla, did you get that first draft worked out? He’s ready
for it.” I jump slightly as Oliva pops her perfectly groomed
head into my cubicle. She raises her eyebrows, no doubt
drumming up an interesting story to explain away the ever
darkening circles under my eyes. I release my own hand. I
hadn’t even realized I was gripping. The sting of my
fingernails leaving the flesh catches me by surprise as I
stare at the crescent moon shaped indents left behind.
God, I didn’t even feel it.
“Earth to Layla.”
“Right, yeah sorry.” I scramble through the chaos that is my
desk until I find the sheet of paper I need handing it off to
her. I frown when she lingers for a minute, “Yes I look like
shit Oliva. Is there something else you need?” I snap.
I know I shouldn’t it’s not her fault my life is an absolute shit
show but holy fuck I just want to be left alone. If things
shocked me anymore, I would’ve been wide eyed and mouth
gaping when I’m not met with a bitchy remark. Only her
glancing down at the sheet of paper as she adjusts the back
of her impractically high pink heel. “I was just going to
remind you, you have two weeks paid time off. Maybe you
should take it. Go to the spa, leave town for a bit or
something. The cops came by and spoke to me, asking what
I’ve seen. Some space could help.”
I give her a weak smile my cheeks flushing with
embarrassment as I pick at the taupe-colored polish on my
nails, “Yeah, that might not be a bad idea.”
She scoffs, suddenly straightening her perfect posture, “Of
course it’s not.”
There she is.
I don’t bother hiding it when I roll my eyes, earning myself a
smirk from her. I was supposed to be saving those days for a
trip with Ava this summer. It’s weird, picturing the future
when you know at any minute you can die. Be snuffed out in
an instant just because you displeased a mad man.
“I’ll get the paperwork started.” She mutters, looking all too
pleased with herself as she struts away. The one person who
might’ve been able to help me, protect me, I pushed away.
Banished him from my sight, to keep him from enduring an
equally as hellish fate. Last night proved that he was not the
root of my problems. I’ll break the news to Ava tonight at
dinner, I’ve put off visiting her long enough. I can’t cancel
again. Maintaining relationships has always been exhausting
for me. Even with Ava and I adore her. She’s been my best
friend for years. She was the only family I had when
grandpa died. The only glue that kept me together as I
spiraled. She held me accountable, didn’t let me dissolve
into myself. My obligation to her safety, to keeping her far
away from him only barely outweighs my need for my
friend.

I’m running a full half hour late as I shuffle down the

sidewalk, nearly slamming into a man exiting the bar and
grill Ava insisted we meet at. Apparently, she’s got her eye
on the woman that owns the place. Thankfully for me, it’s
only about a block from Blinked.
“I’m sorry!” I mumble, trying to step around him.
“Layla?”
I frown, unease flooding me as I realize who I barreled into.
“Oh hey Brandon, how have you been?” His warm smile
pulls a similar one from my face.
“I’m good, been busy trying to keep up with you know who.”
I roll my eyes, shoving my icy fingers into the pockets of my
coat, “He’s not Voldemort, you can say his name.”
He chuckles, his black hair whipping into his handsome face,
“How can you be certain? Have you ever seen him and
Voldemort in the same room?”
I shake my head, moving past him to go inside, “It was good
to see you. Oh and in case you forgot, I still demolished you
at Potter Trivia.” He gawks, “Demolished me? You won by a
single fucking point.” I laugh, my first genuine laugh in what
feels like forever as I open up the door, the burst of warm air
soothing my chilled bones.
“Hey Layla, I know you probably don’t want to hear this
right now but whatever is going on with Liam… he doesn’t
mean it, okay? He would never hurt you. He’s crazy about
you. No pun intended.”
My heart stills in my chest, “What?”
His eyes widen slightly as he runs his fingers through his
hair uncomfortably, “Oh shit, my phone.”
“Your phone is not ringing.”
He doesn’t even pretend to answer the imaginary phone call
as he brings it up to his ear. Giving me a small wave before
turning the opposite direction.
Fat chance.
Just as I start off towards him I feel a set of small hands grip
my arm, turning to meet Ava’s annoyed face. “Dude, where
have you been? Come on, people are glaring.” My chest
tightens as she tugs me inside, Brandon’s retreating frame
getting smaller and further away as he heads back down the
sidewalk.
What the fuck did he mean by that?
As we order and settle in at the table, I struggle to pay
attention to what Ava is saying. Ninety percent of it
comprises of nagging me about remaining in my house with
everything going on. It might seem illogical to most sure
but, I don’t want to leave. It feels like letting him win. She
fumes, and I cringe inwardly, imagining how pissed she’d be
if she didn’t have the watered-down version.
He won the minute I enjoyed his touch. I allowed myself to
get attached to a stranger that has violated me in all the
most meaningful ways.
“I was doing some thinking and I don’t think it’s a
coincidence Liam only shows back up after your stalker
surfaces.” She mutters before popping a crouton in her
mouth. I nod, as if I hadn’t already considered that a trillion
times. With the dead end I met with the private investigator,
the way he’s been acting and now Brandon’s offhand
comment its…alarming. “He was with me last night when
the house was attacked.”
She rolls her eyes, “The guy is loaded Lay. He can afford to
pay someone to send a few texts or throw a bottle at a
chick’s house. Plus, his hot friend was here earlier. Guy kept
looking at me weird, like he wanted to say something but
couldn’t. I’ve been around them both before and he was
normal, ish.”
I groan, setting my drink down a little too hard, “No shit Ava,
I was trying to talk to him when you yanked me inside the
damn restaurant.” She worries her bottom lip as if she’s just
now realizing I was speaking to someone out there.
Or at least trying to.
By the time I leave the restaurant, I’m even more
emotionally exhausted than before. Ava refused to let go of
me until I swore to meet her again next week at her house
for the girl’s night she’s been requesting since this all
started. I’m only halfway down the block before I stop dead
in my tracks. A car with blacked-out windows too dark to see
the occupant rolls down the road a little too slowly for
comfort. If that wasn’t reason to be anxious enough on its
own, the music pouring from the slightly cracked windows
sends adrenaline coursing through my veins.
“Although we’re apart
You’re a part of my heart
And tonight
You belong
To me.”
No.
Anxiety, fear and no small amount of…something else
strikes my body like a live wire. My mind jumps into
overdrive, forcing me to pump my legs hard against the
pavement as I break into a sprint. The unusual emptiness of
the street only serves to further mock my helplessness. My
lungs are burning by the time I dart into the dimly lit parking
garage, not stopping despite my screaming muscles until
I’m slamming and locking the doors of my car. I lean my
head back against the headrest, trying to catch my breath,
although I’m relatively sure he didn’t follow me. Just another
game, another tactic to chip away at what little sanity I’m
clinging to.
I scream as I catch a glimpse of something in the backseat,
my fingers fumbling with the door handle in my attempt to
free myself. As the walls of the garage grow closer and
closer, I fall from my car onto the cold oil-stained concrete.
Shoving myself as far from the car as I can until my back
hits the half wall separating the upper and lower levels. My
watery eyes focus on the backseat, the face there…
spinning? Slowly rising on shaking legs, I take a few small
steps closer to my car, releasing all the air from my lungs.
It’s a mask… his mask.
I jerk open the back door, watching in horror as it dangles
from the ceiling of my car. Swaying and spinning like the
taunt that it is. I jerk it down, not paying any mind to the
way it takes some of the tan fabric lining with it.
Why would he give me this? Proof? Scarier yet… why
doesn’t he feel like he needs it anymore?
I toss it into the backseat, putting as much distance
between it and myself before turning the key in the ignition.
I scream yet again, my nerves shot to shit as my stereo
blares to life. Certainly not the way I left it.
“Wait down by the stream
How sweet it will seem
Once more, just to dream
In the moonlight
My honey, I know,
With the dawn, you will be gone.
But tonight you belong to me.”
I scream again, this time my body racked with anger instead
of fear. I punch at the dashboard. Forcing my foot up from
the floorboard to kick at the car. My shoe drops off the heel
caught on the steering wheel as I kick at the music. It makes
no sense, but it feels good so I keep on abusing my car and
screaming like a fucking maniac until red and blue lights fill
the cab. More tears fall to my flushed cheeks when I look
up, Ryan and a group of my coworkers standing near the
elevator, concerned looks on their faces.
Fucking excellent.
Ryan eyes me sympathetically as the police cautiously
approach my car, as if I’m the dangerous one. Like I’m the
fucking one people need to be protected from. I lift my
bloodied hands as I step out of my car, the cold air feeling
more like a gift than a burden against my sweaty face. In a
normal situation, I’m sure I would’ve had some reaction to
seeing Officer Daniels step from his car, his hand placed
around the butt of his holstered gun, but I don’t.
I rub my sleep-filled eyes, wincing at the soreness in my
soon to be bruised hands. Rolling over on the couch to stare
at Saw III title menu’s animation looping. Adjusting so I’m
propped up on the throw pillows, my eyes shoot wide like
saucers when something gushes between my legs.
Yeah, that gush.
I rush into the bathroom only to confirm that either I’m
about to bleed to death or I did, in fact, just start my period.
Which is interesting considering I haven’t had one in two
years. Aside from the obvious prevention of pregnancy,
that’s been my favorite thing about having an IUD. Much to
my surprise, it doesn’t take them long to find me an
appointment after I call my obstetrician. Part of me wants to
ignore it, I really want to ignore it, but with my recent
activities now would be the absolute worst time to end up
pregnant. Not that my stalker and I have actually had sex-
Not sex, sexual assault, Layla.
I shake my head to myself, allowing my thoughts to run
away from me. Why hasn’t he just…done it yet? I’m
confused, bothered even. Although I’m far from
understanding why not being raped would upset me.
Probably because you’re incredibly fucked up and are
getting attached to a literal psychopath.
I lay my head back against the cold hard lounger in the
dimly lit room, avoiding eye contact from the ultrasound
technician as he slathers my bruised stomach in that God
awful gel. Not making eye contact with him or my doctor
leaves me staring at the wall of blob art babies decorating
the room. My heart hammers in my chest, still reeling from
the first check they did. They keep giving each other
apprehensive glances, ready to bolt if I flip my lid. It feels
like a kick to my gut.
What’s another two people that think I’m fucking crazy?
Usually being set up pussy bare underneath hospital grade
lighting brings with it a certain amount of discomfort,
embarrassment even. Not this time, I felt nothing as he
examined me. Perhaps the repeated violations by my
tormentor have made me numb to these things. I was
relatively comfortable laying there, momentarily safe from
him. Until my doctor asked me a question that made the
blood in my veins run cold.
Ma’am did you remove your IUD?
I knew they hadn’t believed me when I said no. So here we
are, triple checking what we all already know, because I
downright refused to leave until they did.
“Miss. Burke again, there is no IUD. If you’d like-“
I cut off the doctor as I shoot up from the table, jerking my
oversized sweatshirt down over my gel covered stomach as
an unease I’ve never felt before hits me in droves. I ignore
their stares and attempts to stop me as I dart into the
neighboring room, luckily an unoccupied bathroom
considering I didn’t even fucking check. I barely make it to
the toilet before I release the contents of the pitiful lunch I
made for myself. Where the sound of sobs should be mixed
with the sound of the flushing toilet, there are none.
Not a single tear, only red hot anger.
I head over to the sink flipping the water on all the way,
making it splash from the basin. Coating my hands in tiny
droplets as I clench the counter tightly. It’s loud in the
otherwise silent office, but nowhere near loud enough to
drown out the pounding in my ears. I stare at myself in the
mirror, my wild curls jerked up in a messy bun high on my
head. My nail polish chipped and frayed. I don’t recognize
the woman there, the woman that allowed herself to be
victimized time and time again.
All her life, actually.
The woman that aided in her attackers escape because her
fucking daddy didn’t hug her enough. Out of all the
violations, this one stings the most I think, taking away my
choice. I splash the cool water on my flushed skin, staring at
the mess I’ve made before even the sound of the water
pounding against the basin becomes too much.
It’s all become too much.
When I storm from the office, I have one singular goal in
mind, make him feel just a fraction of what I have. Just a
fucking sliver of the torment and absolute bullshit he’s
forced me to endure. I’m done, done being his victim. Done
with the lies, the games, the small fraction of the picture
he’s letting me see.
He’s mine as much as I’m his. He’s said it over and over
again. So how far is he willing to go to keep me? How far
can I push him?

Yandere by Jazmin Bean

After I ran from the office, I drove. I drove to the cemetery,
past Curran Enterprises. I drove everywhere I could think of
waiting for this self-destructive impulse to wean. It didn’t.
The more I drove the longer his violation sank into my skin.
The more I planned. The more I thought of all the ways I
could hurt him for this. For everything. I took back roads
until the sun dipped behind the trees and every single one
of them brought me home.
I can feel his eyes on me, setting me on edge the way only
he can as I rush inside my house. Nearly tripping over
Peaches as I go, I don’t look at the holes in the walls or my
broken furniture as I throw open the bedroom. The only
bedroom left untouched by his presence. If I close my eyes
and concentrate sometimes I can hear my grandpa’s
footsteps, feel him walking around these halls.
He would be so ashamed of me. I’m ashamed.
That thought should bring tears to my eyes. The bitter truth
of those words should have me crumbling in on myself. The
only thing it does is throw fuel on the fire already burning
me from the inside, melting down every sliver of self control
I had left. I jerk the gun cabinet open, taking the double-
barrel shotgun from inside. It’s pure muscle memory as I
break open the barrel, loading two shells. I’ve never actually
shot the fucking thing before, the loud jarring sound never
mixed well with my anxiety, but that’s fine.
I don’t have to be an excellent shot for what I have in mind.
I just need to shock him, make him slip up. All I want is to
rip that control he wields to shreds.
As soon as my feet hit the grass, I point the gun at the wood
line, “I know you’re fucking out there! Come out now! You
want me, here I fucking am!” Birds scatter from the trees,
but I’m met with silence. An entire month of constant
contact, constant calls and texts, all of his sweet words,
promises and threats and I’m met with fucking silence. I
know he’s out there, just beyond the trees. I can feel him. I
hate these woods. Taking a last glance at the moon making
its way higher in the sky before I set off for them.
I don’t want to go inside. I really don’t want to go inside.
I keep screaming as I walk between the trees, “You really
should’ve kept your mask!”
The only sign I’ve got his attention is the occasional snap of
a branch, the light from my yard getting darker and smaller
the deeper in I go. The deeper I descend into the madness
he curated just for me.
“Come out now!”
Another snap, closer this time. My skin prickles as the icy
wind whips around me, then I smell it.
Him.
I jerk in the direction letting off a single round from the
shotgun. Pain erupts in my shoulder as it kicks back against
me, knocking me off balance. I fall on my ass dropping the
gun. That’s all it takes for him to get the advantage. An
advantage he only let me think I had. Another lie, another
fucking taunt. My breath is knocked from my lungs as he
barrels into me from behind, my ears still ringing as he
slams me into the dirt. “What were you going to do with
that, huh? We’ve already established you don’t have it in
you to kill me.” A sickening laugh leaves my throat as I
struggle to turn underneath him, his large hand keeping my
head pushed into the dirt as he straddles me. “I’ve done it
before. The hate I feel for you far outweighs what I felt for
him.” I spit, soil working its way into my mouth.
I gasp as the skin of his face graces my cheek, “Hate and
love go hand in hand lítla stjarna . Seems we’re right where
we should be. Now use your big girl words and explain to
me what’s got you so worked up tonight. There’s nothing we
can’t get through together.”
I scream in frustration, kicking helplessly at his back, “You
took my IUD! You took everything from me, you sick fuck,
and you couldn’t even leave my fucking choice! It’s my
fucking body, you’re sick!” My voice is guttural and
unfamiliar even to me. He immediately eases up on my
stomach. The tone in his voice makes my heart seize in my
chest, “Are you pregnant?”
“No! Thank fucking God, why would you think for one
fucking second I would ever carry a child you put in me?” I
spit back, making him go completely still, save for the growl
that forms in his chest.
I hope that broke your crazy fucking heart.
“You shouldn’t say things like that. I’d love to make you eat
your fucking words.” He warns before nipping roughly at my
neck. I struggle more as he jerks at my pants, letting go of
my head. Arousal mixing with my anger.
I hate myself. I hate myself more than I hate you.
As soon as he leans down closer, I jerk my head backwards,
he grunts as it collides with his nose, allowing me just
enough leverage to slip from underneath him. I trip over
myself, my legs tangled in my pants as I frantically kick my
legs free. Shallow breaths burn my raw throat as his bone
chilling laugh comes from behind me. “I’ll admit, that was a
good hit, but now you’re going to fucking pay.” I shove
myself from the unforgiving forest floor, leaves and twigs
biting into my flesh as I take off deeper into the woods that
still strikes so much fear into me.
It’s dark, so dark.
As I dash between trees, that old panic I felt all those years
ago creeps in. Lost out here alone, the memory makes that
stupid part of my brain hope he catches up with me. A
thought I immediately regret as his pounding footsteps grow
closer. A yelp leaves my mouth as something hard collides
with the back of my head, sending me tumbling.
“You hit me…” I groan as I roll to my back, his dark figure
stepping over me as black spots dot my vision, the back of
my head throbbing.
I can’t see it, your face. I need to see you.
“You tried to leave me.” He says breathlessly, his voice
pitched up. “Can’t have you getting hurt out here, baby.” I
strain to focus my eyes, his outline darkened by the warm
toned full moon hovering above him. I whimper as he lifts
me up, jerking me over his shoulder. My body hangs limply
as I watch his heavy black boots crunch against the leaves,
his arm tightening around me. It isn’t until I see the see the
shotgun clenched in his fist that I realize what he hit me
with. I groan again, trying to flex my numb fingers and toes
as I strain against his hold. “Why won’t you let me see you?
You gave up your mask.”
“All of our time together and you haven’t figured out that’s
what I want most? To be seen by you. I'll let you see me, I’m
ready to be done with this. It’s you Layla. You haven’t tried
fucking hard enough.”
His words shake me from my daze, reinfecting me with
adrenaline. I bend down, nestling my head into his strong
back before biting down as hard as I can, making him lurch,
I imagine his blood seeping from the wound before jerking
away. He gets less than a second to recover before I start
flailing and bucking wildly against him. My head throbs,
making my vision blur.
“FUCK!” He grunts as he loses his grip on me, that voice…
where do I know that voice? He scrambles for me as I fall,
my face colliding with the unwavering ground. I know that
hurt, I’m sure I’ll actually feel it later, but right now all I care
about is getting to my car. I don’t know which direction or
how far I actually run, only that when I see the wood line I
let out a sob of relief. He’s close, too close. I stop as I
stumble out into my backyard, screaming as just fingertips
catch in the tangles of my hair. Ripping a clump free as I
jerk forward, running around the side of the dark farmhouse.
“Layla, get back here right now!” He growls as I grip the
handle to my car, grateful I was too pissed off to remove the
keys from the ignition. I can hear Peaches rapid angry
barking coming from inside as I slip into the seat slamming
the door behind me. Locking them while my breath comes
out in sobs as I turn to look back at him only to be met with
nothing. I don’t question it, nor do I wait for him to
reemerge. Stomping on the gas before the car even turns
over. I peel out of my driveway as a dark figure steps from
the woods. Looking every bit the specter he is. My hand
shakes as I reach around the back of my head, whimpering
as my fingers find it damp with blood. He hurt me, he really
hurt me. I’m hurt, and it’s hard to drive, but I can’t stop. I
won’t, not for anything.

OceanofPDF.com
M y heart drums in my chest as I slam my car into park in
the front of the police station, not bothering to park it
properly. My knuckles are white with how hard I’m gripping
the steering wheel, screaming from the damage I did to
them yesterday.
I can’t, I can’t fucking breathe.
They have to believe me, they have to make this fucking
stop. It doesn’t matter how good he makes me feel or how
fucking confused I am. This person, this man, has ruined
me.
Ruined my fucking life!
I sob uncontrollably like a dam has burst open, destroying
and wreaking havoc on everything that stood behind it.
They have to believe me.
I step out of my car, leaving it running as I trudge towards
the metal double doors, my legs still shaking from running
so hard. My head pounding in tune with my pulse. It doesn’t
matter if he has made me feel good, he wouldn’t have
stopped if it hadn’t. I’m fucked. So fucked. It’s cold and I’m
shaking, but the weather has nothing to do with it. Every
violation, tear and scream is seeping from my skin. Oozing
out of me like a fucking disease.
Believe me. Please.
I squint as I throw open the doors to the bright, empty lobby.
A sharp stabbing pain smacking me in the back of the head.
“Officer Daniels!” I scream everything that’s tormented me
since that very first fucking night…the very first time I heard
his fucking voice barrels from my soul as I scream again,
“Officer Daniels!” I don’t flinch, I barely skip a beat as
officers, some in plain clothes others in uniform, flood into
the small lobby. None of them are the one I want to see.
“Ma’am please relax. Are you hurt?” A young blonde haired
cop steps forward, making me jerk back.
“Look at me! Fucking look at me!” I know I need to calm
down. I can’t act this way in here but I can’t stop.
Everything is too much. The lights, too many people, too
many feelings, too much pain.
I can’t fucking stop. Oh God, my chest hurts.
“Take a deep breath, okay?” He says, his hand going to his
utility belt.
Fucking shoot me. It would be an act of mercy.
“Officer Daniels!” I scream like that until my throat bleeds.
Until that stupid fuck’s face rounds the corner slowly,
making all the other stupid faces in the room disappear.
“Miss. Burke…” He has the audacity to look fucking
shocked. I imagine my disheveled state might be shocking.
I’m covered in mud, blood soaking my hair, with no pants.
My legs and arms cut up from where he shoved me into the
dirt. I can tell my period is leaking through my underwear
from the tampon I need to change. I can’t find it in me to be
humiliated anymore. Actually, I’m glad. My outsides finally
match me on the inside.
“Look at me! Will you fucking listen now?!”
“I can’t help you while you’re screaming Miss. Burke.” He
warns, taking a hesitant step forward.
“You can’t help me period, you piece of shit!” I spit out,
lacing my voice with venom as I stalk towards him, my
stomach aching. I couldn’t hurt him, so I settle for the man
in front of me. Every bit as guilty as my tormentor.
I can’t… I need to leave. I should go.
I don’t. I walk until I’m face to face with him, forcing him to
look at me. “How many more times will he have to attack
me before you listen?”
He runs his hand through his hair, looking exhausted, “Look,
come have a seat and we can take anoth- “
The slap rings clear through the silent room as my hand
connects with his prickling face. The only thing I hear next is
the scuffle of boots before I hit the ground hard. Smashed
beneath them, my heart stops in my chest. Their hands on
me are too much, too heavy. Panic whips through me and I
struggle against them, there’s too many. The screams that
rip from my bleeding throat sound so far from human I’m
nearly shocked into silence. Their hands… I can’t stand their
hands on my skin.
I hate it. I hate it. I hate it. I hate it. I hate it. I hate you. I
hate him.
I hate him.
I hate myself. I hate all of you.
“Please, you can’t, you can’t touch me!”
They filter off me, backing away one by one. Several knees
and elbows digging into my back, neck and legs. I wonder if
my ribs will snap? Pain flares through my shoulder as I’m
jerked up by Officer Daniels. He didn’t wait until they moved
so I remain on the floor despite his tugging and the loud pop
fills the room. His bright red cheek a minor consolation for
the storm raging on the inside of me as he jerks again, this
time harder, the other officers already rising to stand around
me. I whimper as I look down at my left arm hanging
awkwardly at my side, it looks… disgusting. The bone in my
shoulder is raised, straining against my skin. I don’t have
time to turn my head before I get sick, my vomit splattering
onto his shiny black boots, another minor consolation. He
doesn’t look away from me as his lips curl up in disgust. The
way he just stares at me makes another wave of bile creep
up my throat. I barely notice the cool clink of the handcuffs
sliding too tightly around my wrists as sobs continue, my
body shaking violently. He jerks me by the cuffs and I
scream, the pain in my shoulder filling everything else as
my legs give out. He doesn’t stop my fall, only holding onto
me by the cuffs. My arms wrenched hard behind my back
and I scream so loud there’s no substance to it, my voice
breaking into silence as my cheek collides with the soiled
floor.
I’m scared… I want to go home. To go to Liam, Ava,
grandpa. I shouldn’t have come here.
“Call behavioral. Let them know we have a 10-73 in need of
immediate assistance.”
“What? No… look I’m sorry, please just listen to me.”
Another officer comes to his side, helping him right me as
my knees wobble. The pain in my shoulder suffocating the
pain in the back of my head. I beg him as he stares, his eyes
blank and unfeeling, looking at me like a fucking insect.
“No one is stalking you. We’ve had officers follow you, stake
out your house off and on since the night at the bar. Nothing
was found. Nothing. You need help Miss. Burke.”
What? No…I can’t…
“You’re wrong. Look at me!”
My stomach sinks like a led weight as he jerks my cuffed
arms again, I whimper as another officer takes my good
arm, wrapping his hand tightly around it. Officer Daniels
barely gives me a second look before turning from me with
a disgusted sound and heading out of sight. I turn to the
blonde plain-clothes officer as he lightens his grip on my
arm, “Please.” He frowns, glancing down the hallway where
officer Daniels disappeared. The others in the room funnel
out as well, as he urges me to follow. “Let’s get you
something to drink, okay? I’ll take your statement myself.”
He says softly. I nod and exhale a shaky breath as we head
down the hallway, the judgmental stares of the others
watching us pass are nearly as painful as my shoulder, my
heart, my soul. I don’t want to go back there. I can’t be
alone like that again. If I'm calm they won’t make me go.
They can’t.
What’s the alternative, Layla? Stay where he can reach you?
Continue this cycle…
My sobs begin all over again as I realize… I would rather
take my chances with him than be locked away and force-
fed medication again. The group therapy with people that
don’t give a fuck about me. The constant and how did that
make you feel? I can’t breathe like that. I can’t live like that
and I won’t. I won’t. My head feels heavy on my shoulders
as he guides me to an empty chair, my bare legs shaking.
He leaves for a moment and for a moment I hope he won’t
come back.
When he does, he gently drapes a blanket over my lap
covering me, his hands careful not to touch my skin. I’m
grateful. I see his hair shake from my peripheral, taking in
the damage on my body. I don’t want to clean up. I don’t
want anyone to wipe the blood from my legs, the dirt, or
clean my wounds. This is my truth. The evidence that he’s
real. My only evidence.
I don’t bother fighting the staff as they hand me two small
white cups. The orderly rattles one of them around, making
the pills bounce against the paper walls. A fight here can’t
be won, its only met with more brutality, more force. I’ve
had enough of both. I spent the first two weeks of my
previous stay scratching and screaming at anyone that
came near me. It never got me anywhere good. I don’t
argue as I’m helped into the shower; the attendant watching
me as I groan, trying to scrub my only proof from my body.
The blood and mud run from my skin, turning the water
pooling at my feet into unnerving shades of brown and pink.
She’s patient letting me scrub at the skin until it’s bright
red, the crusted over cuts bleeding like they’re brand new.
Each pinkish streak makes me think of him. The things he
said.
I’m not trying hard enough. How could that be true?
The throbbing in the back of my head is in a dick measuring
contest with the throbbing in my shoulder a nurse popped
back into place when I got here a few hours ago. I meant to
answer all their intake questions. It’s the middle of the night
and I know they’re tired, but I just couldn’t find the right
words, any words. My chest feels too heavy to answer them.
Who currently lives at your residence?
Me, my dog and my stalker, but he mostly stays outside.
In your words, describe the problems you are currently
having?
I’m in a love triangle with my stalker and my ex. Oh and
nobody that counts seems to think he actually exists. I’m
starting to doubt myself, too.
Do you want to take your own life?
Maybe.
The only thing I’ve asked for since I arrived was a phone
call, that of which I was told I could have in the morning.
Which I’m not sure is legal. On the upside…
What was the upside again? My head is fuzzy, either from
the concussion or drugs. Or both.
I’m handed a heavy blanket as I’m led into the stark white
room, no sign of the previous troubled soul that stayed here.
Forty-eight hours is the longest they can keep me. I just
need to make a call first thing in the morning. If I could feel
anything I’m sure I would cry thinking of how upset Peaches
was when I left, how she’s wondering when I’ll get home.
I’m sure Ava is freaking out too. I hope she doesn’t go to the
house. Sitting on the small bed, I collapse backwards before
thinking about it. Thankfully I don’t feel it. I curl up on my
side as the medication makes my eyes droop, sleep finding
me quickly despite my best efforts to stay awake.
I don’t feel the relief I had expected to or anything at all as
they hand me my phone the next morning, the battery
wobbling on about fifteen percent. I know I should call Ava,
but I don’t.
Ring.
Ring.
“Layla?” Liam’s deep voice fills the speakers, not sure why
he sounds anxious, but I don’t really care right now. I can’t
tell if that’s because of the medication or me. If I’m just…
done.
“Hey, can you do me a favor? I know I have no right to- “
“Anything. Where are you?”
I hesitate, “I just…I won’t be home for a few days probably,
please go get Peaches and be careful. Take Brandon with
you. It’s not armed or anything. Probably unlocked, too. I
don’t know where my car-“
“Where the fuck are you Layla?” He demands. I don’t need
to see him to know he’s pacing back and forth, his go to
when he’s agitated. I picture him in that dark navy blue suit
that fits him so well, running his hand through his messy
copper hair. God, it used to drive me crazy. Now ironically
enough, I miss it.
“Fairview, and no I don’t-“
“They put you in Fairview?!” He cuts me off. The sound of
crashing makes me jump, earning me a loaded look from
the attendant. “Stay put,”
I can’t leave.
“ I’ll get Peaches and I’ll be there in less than an hour
okay?”
“Liam, it’s an involuntary hold. There’s nothing you can do.”
My voice breaks, even though I’m completely numb. Like
tears are just my body’s go to now.
“Do you want to stay?” He asks, the agitation in his voice
clear. “God no.” I sob. I know I need to reel it in. If I freak out
too much, they’ll take my phone again. Taking a deep
breath, I stare at the light gray sweats I’m wearing, their
crisp hospital smell.
I don’t want him to see me like this. Either of them. Maybe I
should stay.
“I’ll see you in a bit little star.”
I don’t have time to argue before the line goes dead, my
heart fluttering at his use of the nickname he had for me. I
almost feel bad for anyone that tries to argue with him
about breaking me out of here. I know first hand how Liam
gets, so sure of himself, always. What will he do when he
knows Liam took me out of here? Will it make things worse?
I’m okay with it, if it does. I have nothing left to give. No
fight left in me. I’ll let Liam help. I’ll go to him, be safe with
him like I wanted to since the day I pushed him out. This
isn’t his fight, but I can’t do it alone.
I need Liam. I’ve always needed Liam.
Liam
My lawyers have her out and waiting for me by the time I
pull into the manicured circle drive of Fairview. The large
water fountain is empty for the winter, only dead bugs and
leaves decorating the inside. The morning sun reflects off
her wild ash brown hair, making it look like a halo around
her head. Her amber-colored eyes shine more golden than
I’ve ever seen them when they find mine and my heart
clenches in my chest.
She’s so perfect.
Even after everything we’ve been through. It’s clear by the
lack of dirt on her pale skin they helped her get clean. The
idea of someone else seeing her body makes rage threaten
this beautiful moment. It’s everything I have not to march
inside and crush the skull of anyone who she came in
contact with. Anyone who fed, touched, or looked at my
Layla. She doesn’t speak the whole ride back to my house,
but she’s right here. Everything I’ve ever wanted is sitting
within arm’s reach, yet she feels so distant. So painfully far
away.
This is what you wanted. To break her. She’s broken.
I was indescribably happy when she called me, playing right
into the web I spun for her. Granted I had no idea those
fucks would have her committed. She’s told me in bits and
pieces things about her past. The minor details and her
previous stay at Fairview I had to find out on my own. My
grip tightens on the steering wheel for the first time since
this started. I’m doubting myself. The guilt is short lived as
she slips her hand over, tugging at the sleeve of my shirt
until I release the wheel, sliding my hand into hers. Her skin
is cold, her fingers and knuckles scraped up something I
hadn’t noticed the last time I visited her. I raise my knee to
the wheel, steering with it for a moment so I can turn up the
heat for her. Unwilling to let go of her, even for a second.
My little love. Mine.
She doesn’t react as we pull into my garage, nor does she
move a muscle as I hesitantly drag my hand from hers. Her
grip was so tight on me I had to wiggle it free as she stares
off into the dark floorboard, not truly looking at anything
there. I open up her door, pulling her into my arms as she
clenches the fabric of my shirt, silent tears slipping free
from those goddamn eyes. Peaches barely lifts a head as we
walk in. I took her to my place last night when Layla took
off, didn’t feel right leaving her barking all alone. I clench
Layla tighter, reminding myself to ease up when she winces.
When this is all said and done, please know it was done
from love. Every moment has been because I cannot and
will not live without you.
Sitting her gently on our bed, I head into the bathroom and
begin filling the tub with water. Grabbing the eucalyptus
Epsom salt she likes so much. It always made her smile
brighten when the smell hit her after a long day at work.
Every time that cunt Danvers would run her ragged, she’d
come home to a bath ready for her, even if I had to have a
maid start it while I was out. I doubt I’ll see that smile
tonight.
By the time I come back for her she’s halfway asleep, no
doubt still heavily under the influence of whatever drugs
they forced her to take. The idea of anyone but me forcing
anything down that pretty throat of hers makes me bite
down on my raw inner cheek. I sit her on the edge of the
bath, bending down and gently removing the sandals they
gave her. She watches me intently as I work the pants down
her soft legs, letting the back of my scabbing fingers trail
along her skin. She grips my hand, stopping me before I can
do the same with her underwear and I clench my jaw as she
stares down sheepishly, “Can you step out for a moment?”
“No.”
“Please…” She whispers, squeezing her thighs together
tightly.
You’re mine, and you know better than to hide from me.
“Why can’t I see you Layla?” My voice comes out harsher
than I wanted it to and she tucks her hair behind her small
ears, “I need to take out my tampon. Alone.” Relief and
amusement flood my chest, trying and failing to hide my
smile as her cheeks warm. It’s easy to pull her slender
fingers from my wrist, wrapping one hand around both of
hers. Keeping them pinned gently out of the way while I
work her underwear down her legs. She doesn’t stop me
when I release her wrists, letting me part her legs and
gently pull the string. She covers her eyes with the back of
her arm as I discard her tampon in the bathroom trash.
She’s so cute.
I almost kneel in front of her again, barely able to resist
taking her down here, showing her she’s got nothing to be
embarrassed about. Not with me. Not ever. I don’t. That’s
not what my sweet little star needs right now. She lifts her
arms, allowing me to remove her top as her round breasts
fall free. My heart stills in my chest as I see the deep bruise
forming on her shoulder, a sick hot feeling bleeding into my
gut, “Who did this?” I growl through gritted teeth. She
freezes before bringing her hand up and rubbing the
mottled skin absent-mindedly. “Layla, who the fuck did
that?” I fist the sweatshirt in my hand as I stare at her,
waiting for an answer.
Don’t make me ruin this peace between us. I swear on
everything if you say your stalker I-
“You can’t freak out. It was my fault, I slapped him.” She
placates, refusing to meet my eyes.
Him? Who is him Layla? You have until the count of five
before I shove that pretty head underneath the water.
One.
Two.
“It was Officer Daniels. That’s why they arrested me. Please
Liam, he was only doing his job, my shoulder dislocated. It’s
okay now.” I breathe deeply, my eyes glued to the bruise as
I take her hand steering her into the tub, watching as the
warm water slips over her battered skin. “Liam, say
something please. You can’t hurt him.”
I crack my neck, “Tell me you’ll stay this time. Swear to me
you won’t leave me and I’ll let it go.” The lie tastes like
battery acid in my mouth. I will never let it go. I’d kill dozens
for less for you.
Nobody hurts you, Layla. Nobody but me.
She reaches for me, pressing her hand to my chest,
frowning as my heart races on the inside. “I swear I won’t
go. Just please, don’t hurt anyone.” I remove her hand from
my chest, pressing her palm to my lips gently. Letting her
touch calm me in the way only she can.
“Thank you.” She whispers, her eyes finding mine as I pick
up the pitcher from the floor, slowly pouring the water over
her exposed shoulders. I don’t try to stop my smile as I lean
in kissing her forehead, trying to put every ounce of what I
feel for her into a single kiss. It’s the glint of a smile in her
eyes as I pull back that tells me these ten months of hell
have been worth it. “I would do anything for you, you know
that, right?”
Even the things you don’t want. The ugly nasty things only I
know you need.
****
The rest of the day is perfect, just like her. She swaps
between fits of tears and staring blankly at the pictures on
the television screen. When her tears come, I’m there to
wipe them away, just like I should’ve always been. By the
time night hits, she’s practically glued to me. The way her
touch lingers, how her lips grace my chest makes it damn
near impossible to pull away. I adjust my cock in my pants
as I walk out of the bedroom to get her a cup of hot tea. I’m
careful to only use one of her sleeping pills this time as I mix
it in with sugar. Half would probably work just as efficiently
at knocking her out, but I don’t want to risk her trying to run
when I’m away. Not now that she’s finally come home. I
should have never let her go. I let that fucking prick hurt
her. All because I was too scared for her to see me yet, I
wasn’t ready. This is my fault and it’s up to me to make it
right.
Three teaspoons of honey, just the way she likes it.
I didn’t want to do this to her again, forcing her medication
on her. I want to stay here, holding her tightly to my chest,
but I can’t. Not knowing he’s walking around out there.
No, that simply won’t do.
Our happily ever after has to come with a clean break, a
fresh start. That’s the only way it’ll work after the things I’ve
done. This is the last time, one final white lie before I bare
my soul to her. Revealing every dirty trick I used to earn her
love again. Her attention. I sit the cup on the side table as I
tug her tightly into me, pulling the covers in around us as
she settles into my arms. She requested I didn’t charge or
turn her phone on. Not for any reason, it’s not hard to
imagine why. She’s comfortable for the first time in a month
and it’s with me. She finishes it quickly, gently tracing
invisible designs on the palms of my hands as her eyelids
droop.
“Why didn’t you fight for me?” Her voice is small and weak
as she fights the effects of the drugs. I freeze where I am
my fingers still working through her hair.
I’ve done nothing but fight for you.
“That day when I broke up with you, you just…stared at
me.”
My heart clenches in my chest, the wound still raw and
riddled with infection, “I wanted to, I really did. I just froze.”
I resume playing with her hair, hoping she’ll leave it at that.
“What made you freeze?”
Stubborn little star. Go to sleep.
“When I was a little boy, I lost someone very close to me.
She left me all alone. I was confused and scared. It felt like
that day all over again. Layla, that’s why I’ve done all the
things I’ve done because if you leave.… If I truly lose you,
neither of us will survive it.” I glance down, waiting to the
look of panic, of knowing in her eyes at my small admission,
but they are closed as she slips deeper into sleep. It felt
good admitting that to her, although I have no idea how
much she’ll remember nor how much she even heard. I
untangle myself from her as I slip out of bed, silently
dawning the chest harness and my leather jacket. Pulling
the k-bar knife from my closet and holstering it as I bend
down, kissing her softly.
“Sweet dreams, baby. I’ll be home soon.”
I let Peaches out and give her a few head pats before I set
out. It was only a matter of minutes and a few searches to
find out where he lives. For a cop, he isn’t very liberal with
what he shares on his social media. Geo tagging his own
address multiple times like a fucking idiot. I can’t hold back
my excitement as I get in my car, slipping my gloves on
before hitting play on the radio.

OceanofPDF.com
 Twisted by MISSIO
I sit outside the Daniels home, waiting long after the last
light shuts off before I try to go in. I pull up the surveillance
feed to my house one last time, smiling as Peaches sneaks
up into bed next to Layla. She rolls to her stomach,
snuggling into the massive dog. Looking just as perfect as
she always has, dressed in my clothes laying in our bed. I
take a deep breath, trying to settle my excited energy
cracking my neck as I exit the car. It doesn’t come as a
surprise when I pick the lock to the back door easily.
That badge has made you complacent, Officer Daniels. A
shame.
Every step I take closer to him the hotter my anger burns.
The thought of him hurting her, touching her when all she
wanted was help. I slip inside the small house, smirking at
the wall of pictures lining the tan hallway. All of him and his
new wife, a few scattered about of what I imagine are
extended family. No kids, lucky for them.
God, I can only hope you never procreate. I should get you
fixed, save the gene pool from those unfortunate genetics.
I falter in my steps slightly as my mother’s voice slices it’s
way through my concentration. For once her constant flow
of insults is helpful, the words making the hatred building
inside of me ripen. I take another step, freezing when Mrs.
Daniels steps from the bedroom; her glasses sat high on her
head. My heart skips a beat as she continues into the
bathroom across the hall.
She didn’t even notice.
I tuck myself behind the door, my eyes glued to the dark
bedroom as she uses the bathroom, not bothering to wash
her hands. As soon as she steps out of the doorway I grab
her tightly, my gloved hand gripping her mouth and nose as
she kicks wildly. No doubt trying to rouse her husband’s
attention. “No worries, we’re going to wake him together.” I
assure her as I drag her into the bedroom with me. Shifting
her to one side and tucking her underneath my arm as I flick
on the bright overhead light. She whimpers beneath my
hand as he shoots up in bed, his dark eyes bulging with
alarm as he takes in the scene before him.
“Sorry to wake you, but it seems we have a score to settle.”
I say, plastering a comically fake smile on my face. Not that
I’m not happy to be here doing this, I am. It just shouldn’t
have happened in the first place. I should have never let it
happen, they will pay the penance for me. Seems fair
enough.
“Now let’s calm down, let her go. Do you know who-“
“Of course I know who you are. You’re the stupid fuck that
put his hands on my girl. That’s why I drove all this way.
Nobody. Fucking. Touches. Layla.” The next smile that drags
across my face is genuine as I watch his eyes widen further,
putting all the pieces in place. The recognition flashes in his
eyes. I can’t wait to watch my cute little star do the same.
“There you go. I trust you realize who I am now?”
“Please let my wife go.”
“I asked you a fucking question!” I snap. This is getting
tedious. I just need to fucking kill you and be on my way.
Tomorrow is a big day for me. His wife screams as I force her
to the floor on her hands and knees. Stomping hard on the
middle of her back until she collapses to her stomach,
crying softly.
“Fuck stop! You’re Liam Curran, we met briefly. You
assaulted me, but I let it go, remember that? You’re Layla
Burke’s fiancé. You… you seem like a good, reasonable guy.”
His eyes slide towards his bedroom drawer where I’m sure
he has a gun tucked away. I snap the clasp on my holster,
unsheathing my knife pointing it at him, “The second you
reach for that gun I drive this knife through the back of her
skull. I think that’s a fair trade, but it’ll be difficult to explain
that one to my girl once she learns of my little road trip.”
“You’ve been stalking her. It was you.”
I scoff, “Of fucking course it was me. Imagine how I felt
when I saw what you did to my Layla. If anyone is going to
hurt her, it’s me.”
“She attacked me-“
“Because you refused to fucking help her!” I pinch the
bridge of my nose. “Look, it’s been a long day, so here’s
what’s going to happen. I’m going to dislocate both of your
wife’s shoulders, then maybe I let you live. Okay?”
“Okay. Okay.” She frantically mumbles from beneath me,
tremors racking her body. I meet his eyes, smirking as I
bend down, jerking one of her arms free from underneath
her. I don’t look away from Officer Daniels as I place my
boot on her shoulder, pulling back hard until her arm pops
loudly, giving out and going limp in my hands. He makes a
disgusted sound in the back of his throat, looking away as
she screams. I make quick work of the other arm before I
drop it, letting it thud to the floor. Tears well in his eyes as
he stares at her, leaving himself open.
Distracted.
I step forward, slashing through his throat in a matter of
seconds, his shocked expression peeling away from his
sobbing wife. “You shouldn’t have fucking hurt her.” He
slumps over on the bed grabbing at his open throat. I lean
over him plunging my blade into his stomach over and over
again until I’m panting and the blade becomes slippery.
Turning my attention back to her, I sit heavily beside his
body trying to catch my breath, “I don’t want to kill you, but
it just occurred to me you could put a serious dent in my
future with Layla.”
She sobs, “Please, please, I won’t talk.”
She might be telling the truth.
Rocking to my feet I walk behind her. Bending to grasp her
black hair in my hand, I jerk her head back, running the
blade across her throat, “That won’t kill you, not if you
hurry. But let me make one thing fucking clear: if I catch
wind you so much as muttered a word to anyone about this
I’ll slice until it pops clean off next time.” I glance over at
the nightstand as adrenaline pumps through my veins,
jerking the phone from the charger and tossing it to the
floor a little ways in front of her.
Might be a little unfair without the use of her arms, but her
husband signed their fate the moment he put his hands on
Layla. My Layla.
Layla
I run my fingers over the sculpted freckled planes of Liam’s
face as he sleeps beside me, his breath spaced and heavy.
For the first time in a while I feel some semblance of safety.
I know that will end the moment I turn on my phone. What
will he do this time? How far will he go to punish me for my
disobedience?
How will he punish Liam for keeping me from him? Does this
truly hurt him… me being away?
I quickly remove my hand from his face, turning towards the
ceiling, guilt flooding through me for even caring, especially
laying here. Despite all of his faults, the odd backwards
parts of his personality, I fell hard for this man. Despite six
months of distance, I stayed planted firmly where I fell,
where he left me and now here he is. All of my reservations
were laid to rest, my reluctance stowed away and I’m still
thinking about my tormentor.
“What are you thinking about?”
I sigh, turning back to him, his deep blue eyes searching
mine as he tugs me closer. I snuggle up reveling in his
warmth. Inhaling him, “What awaits me when I turn on my
phone.” I mumble, pressing my face into his chest, frowning
when I encounter his t-shirt and not his skin. It’s weird for
Liam to sleep in a shirt.
“How about I make us some breakfast? You can snuggle up
on the couch and turn it on. If it’s too much or you don’t like
what you find, we can go from there.” I pull back, slightly
alarmed by the change in his voice.
You need to stop. Liam is not him for Christ’s sake. Stop this.
I nod, giggling as he stands lifting me from the bed with
him. His lips find mine, kissing me deeply as he walks with
me to the couch. I feel my core tighten as his tongue teases
my bottom lip. It doesn’t take me long before I knot my
hands in his hair, pulling him deeper into the kiss. He groans
as he breaks away, “Phone first, little star. We can’t put this
off. It’s important.”
I frown as he sits me down on the couch, “What do you
mean by that?”
He bends, gripping my chin lightly, “Avoiding everything
that’s happened in the past ten months isn’t going to end
well. You said you were mine, that you’ll stay, right?”
“Right…”
He smiles before kissing me again, “It's you and me.
Anything that’s happened, we can work through it together.
Until you feel comfortable again.” I can’t stop the tears that
well in my eyes, “After everything I did… breaking up with
you, sneaking into your office, accusing you of stalking me,
you’re still on my side.”
“I never left Layla.”
“I lov-“
He cuts me off, handing me my phone. I didn’t even notice
he had grabbed it from the dresser. “Here, I’ll go get started
okay? Bacon pancakes, your favorite.” I nod giving him a
small smile as I grip it in my hand pulling it towards my
chest as it flutters.
I love you Liam. I’m in love with you.
My smile gets larger as the weight and truth behind those
words sinks deeper into my skin. I glance down at the black
screen, grateful he cut me off before I said it out loud. I want
it to be right, without all of this... madness taking up my
every waking thought. Without his memory on my skin. I
push the button on my pulse steadily picking up speed as I
stare down at the screen watching it come to life.
“Peaches outside.”
I glance away, thankful for the distraction as I watch her trot
through the side door into his large backyard that he had
fenced in just for her. It hasn’t went unnoticed by me that
aside from all of my clothes still being hung in his closet, all
of her things remained in place too.
He’s always knew we would come back. Never doubted it for
a second.
My cheeks heat as I think of the box of feminine products he
had restocked since I left him too. They were tucked away in
the cabinet, right where I always kept them. The way he
pulled my tampon from me was beyond embarrassing but
sweet in his uniquely weird way. I chew on my bottom lip as
I unlock the screen, waiting for the flood of messages,
threats, and missed calls.
There are none .
My stomach knots, somehow that’s worse. The only
message is from an unsaved number I recognize as the
personal investigator I used to dig up that old case file. Best
in the state, so his website proclaimed. I only picked him
because he owed Danvers, big time. Still not my best
moment. I quickly glance at Liam as he mixes ingredients
together in a bowl, his copper toned hair disheveled from
sleep. I shouldn’t open it, not after everything. My finger
hovers over the chat. The wannabe failed journalist in me
insists I at the very least read what he has to say.
563-284-5529: I managed to get ahold of the file,
thought you might want to know want I found. COD
for the nanny was left as undetermined according to
the first coroner report, but listed as suspicious.
There was another autopsy done directly after the
initial report came back. A second opinion funded by
the family, ruled it a suicide. Seems the first autopsy
showed the way she fell wasn’t consistent with a
jump. Make of that what you will. I attached the full
file if you want a closer look. Danvers and I are even
now, please pass that along to your former boss.
I sit there for a long time staring at those words, the
meaning behind them. The implications of it all cutting
through the moment of peace I had made for myself this
morning.
“Pancakes will be done in a minute. Everything okay, little
star?” I jump slightly, my heart racing in my chest as I try to
wrap my head around what I just read. “Yeah fine. Ava is
pissy I went MIA.”
His jaw ticks, his hand clenching on the spatula, “No
messages from your stalker?”
I raise my eyebrows, digging my nails into my thigh,
“Actually no, guess that kind of threw me off a bit.” A fat
silence and his eyes never leave me.
“Liam?”
“Yeah?”
“It’s burning.”
His head snaps back towards the pan quickly flicking a burnt
piece of pancake onto the counter, “Shit.” I open up the file
he attached, my thoughts running quicker than I can read
the words on the page.
One witness, six-year-old Liam Curran. Mother Grace
Curran and grandmother Malory Curran were
uncooperative with police but present in the house at
the time of death. Lawyers involved before officials
could question the boy about scratches left on the
decedents arms, neck and face. Indicative of an
altercation. No marks were observed on the boy at
the scene.
My hands start to tremble as I stand slowly from his couch,
tucking my phone into my palm, all too aware of his eyes on
me. “Breakfast is almost ready. Where are you going?”
“Need to pee.” I say, smiling at him as I tuck my hair behind
my ear. Please just let me go to the bathroom. I need to
think.
“You need your phone for that?” He jokes, but I notice the
way his fist tightens on the hot pan before he sticks it
underneath the running water. Steam rolls from the sink, the
cold water bubbling as it connects with the metal.
The best lies are mixed with a little truth.
I chuckle and it comes out forced, “No. I was off my in own
world. Apparently I got a lead back for a work thing I
thought had fallen through.” I say as I toss it back to the
couch and head towards the bathroom. My throat tightens
uncomfortably as I shut the door behind me.
Take a deep breath. The second coroner ruled it a suicide.
Don’t overthink it, everything is okay just… relax. It's okay.
It's okay.
In… out.
In… out.
In… out.
In… out.
“Hey Liam?” I call out, pressing my back against the door as
I start to tremble, anxiety taking hold.
“Yeah?” I jump as his voice comes from the other side. I
didn’t hear him follow me. I rush to the sink, turning on the
faucet with sweaty palms, “Did you get my keys back from
Fairview? I was just thinking I should really get some of my
stuff from the house today.”
Silence.
“Yeah, I have them. We can go after breakfast, babe. Come
on, it's going to get cold.” His voice comes out chipped and
tense, as I stare at my heaving chest in the mirror. Honesty
be honest with him, just ask. It’s Liam. Come on, be a
fucking adult. You can’t hide in the bathroom like an idiot.
You love him, so talk to him. He never left, don’t leave him
now because you’re freaking yourself out about a nineteen-
year-old case file.
I splash water on my face before I open up the top drawer
looking for a toothbrush and honestly stalling like a mother
fucker. What if Liam pushed her? He was a kid, six years
old? Maybe there was someone with him up there. There
had to be, that makes sense. His mom was super sketchy.
But why?
I push around in his bathroom drawer until my eyes land on
a small gray case shoved to the back. I almost leave it
there, giving up on my pursuit of a toothbrush and going out
to handle things like an adult, but my lizard brain won’t let
me put it back down. There is another case inside, this time
two small round bowls connected by a middle band. My
heart sinks.
Contacts.
My heart rages in my chest as I squeeze my eyes shut
tightly. A familiar pair of intense brown eyes stare back at
me from in mind's eye, and the world tilts. My knees wobble
before giving out, the case rattles to the ground and I follow
it. Staring blankly at the case, pleading with myself to find
the strength to open it up. Leaning forward, I snatch it from
the floor, clenching it as bile rises in my throat. Every
suspicion, offhand comment and encounter waging war
inside my mind as I start to unscrew the cap.
“Layla? Everything okay?”
I jump, “Yeah I’m coming!”
Fixing the lid, I shove it back into the case, pushing it into
the drawer before throwing open the bathroom door
colliding into Liam’s sturdy frame. His hands immediately
snake around me, holding me tightly. I can feel the tension
in his hold. It nearly matches mine, “What took you so
long?”
“Girl stuff Liam damn.” I deflect, leaning up on my tiptoes
and kissing him lightly before heading into the kitchen. I can
feel the sweat building in my palms as I slip into my seat.
Liam following closely after me. His hands quickly find me,
his soft adoring touch lingering on the pulse point on my
neck.
If there is a higher power, please let me be wrong.

We’re only halfway through breakfast when I can no longer

hide the trembling in my hands, nor can I stand the intensity
of his ocean blue stare. It’s peeling me open with visceral
accuracy, forcing me out of my mind and into the open. I
swallow hard as I lay down my fork, barely able to taste the
food I have been shoving unceremoniously into my mouth.
“Liam…” I finally look up, meeting his eyes as his hand
tightens around his own fork, the metal handle digging into
his skin, “Something on your mind, little star?” He smiles,
but there’s nothing comforting about it.
“What… what happened to your nanny?”
I watch him clench and unclench his jaw. He doesn’t ask any
questions and my heart sinks a little farther, “Miss. Katla
was my entire world, all I had ever known. She was… as far
as I was concerned, my mother.”
“You didn’t answer the question.” I whisper, “How did she
fall?” I snail my hands to the lip of my plate, my legs
bouncing underneath the table. The smirk that falls over his
face makes goosebumps break out over my skin and my
heart spins in a freefall, landing at my feet. He cracks his
neck, “She was an au pair, not a nanny, from Iceland.
Always complained when I made fun of her accent.”
Oh god….
“Now don’t go and do anything stupid lítla ást.”
A whimper leaves my throat and I nod, my arms and legs
refuse to respond to my brain's commands. Rooting me here
with him.
I knew, I always knew.
“Layla… let’s talk about this, okay? We can get through
anything. You’re mine Layla, I did what I had to. Only what I
has to.“ He drops the accent, his voice deep and gravelly. All
at once the shock wears off. My chest clenches with the
effort to keep my raging heart on the inside. I’m half
surprised it's not actually at my feet at all. It feels like it
should be. I grip the plate, sending it flying into his face. I
don’t have a goal or a location in mind as I shove from my
seat, the table groaning as it scoots roughly on the floor. I
run.
All this time, all the lies. He held me while I cried.
I slam the bedroom door behind me, locking it just before he
barrels into the other side with all of his weight, making the
solid door bow as I scream, scrambling away from it. “Layla,
open the fucking door!” The desperate, gravelly distortion in
his voice shakes me to my core. I whimper as I struggle to
force the words that linger on the tip of my tongue, but they
won’t come. My tongue feels too big and strange in my
mouth. Like I never learned how to use it in the first place.
Why? Why torture me? Revenge? Oh god Liam.
“Come on Layla, let me explain. Just open the door.” He says
calmly, too calm.
Slam!
Slam!
“Go away!” I sob, fisting my hands in my hair and pulling
hard.
“Never! How can you even ask me that after all I’ve done to
keep you? Please, just open the door. We don’t have to
fight.” My breath hitches in my throat. How after everything
can he still affect me like this? Make me doubt myself? I
should hate him. I should fucking hate you.
But… I don’t.
“Little star…”
Slam!
Slam!
A sob leaves my throat as I clasp my hand over my mouth,
trying to stifle the sound, “Why? Why did you do this to
me?” I hear his head thud against the door as he leans on it.
I can’t help but to take a few small steps forward, laying my
trembling hand where the sound originated. Even now I
want him, I wanted both of them.
“I know it seems harsh. I know that, baby, but you left me…
just like she did. You left and there was nothing I could do to
get you to change your mind. I had to. I had to keep you.
You’re mine! Only mine. That’s why I did all the things I did,
killed those people. They tried to hurt you, to take you from
me. Can’t you see I fucking love you!”
Slam!
I jerk backwards from the door as it bows again, the trim
pulling away from the wall, “Who did you kill…?”
“Why does it matter!? They don’t matter to you Layla, only
me!”
Slam!
He’s going to get in.
I scramble jerking out drawers, my hands frantically
searching for anything I can defend myself with. But why?
Given the opportunity, will I even use it? Will I try to save
myself from him? From this… monster inside him.
Do you even want to?
I jerk open his underwear drawer, dumping the contents on
the floor as a small tink interrupts my pointless searching.
Slam!
The room goes still as I stare at the IUD laying on the
bedroom floor. The walls of the room squeeze in on me as I
gasp for breath.
I can’t, I can’t. God, I can’t breathe.
“Layla, just let me in. Let me help you baby, please.”
Slam!
I can’t look away from the IUD as I bend, picking it up in my
hands, every last brutal moment from the past month
connecting like tiny explosions forcing my throat closed. I’m
only more unsettled by the newfound silence coming from
the other side of the door. My gasps for air are the only
sound filling the room.
“Here.” Liam’s broken voice cuts through the panicked haze,
drawing my attention back to my tormentor, the man I love
as a small white pill slides underneath the door. I can hear
the crack in his voice, practically see the glistening tears in
his eyes.
My anxiety medication. He’s taking care of me even now.
I don’t hesitate as I fall to my knees, dropping the IUD and
scrambling for the pill. I down it quickly, as my mind races.
Hesitation and self doubt taking a backseat to my anxiety.
“Open the door little love, please. I know you’re hurting, you
don’t have to. It’s hurting me too. God, I love you baby, I
just want you. That’s it. That’s all I’ve ever wanted. You
didn’t need me anymore Layla. I made you need me.”
Slam!
I stay there on the ground, staring at the floor in front of me
as he slams into the door over and over again. It sounds far
away, so far away. Each time it gives a little more, and so do
I. It’s almost surreal watching my tears drip to the floor
beside my hands as the sound of my whooshing heart fills
my ears. That unsettling laugh of his snaps me back to him,
“Fine! You want to do this the hard way. So be it Layla.”
I whimper, fisting my hands in my hair as his head once
again thuds against the door, followed by the sound of the
slide of a gun being pulled into place. “We’ve come full
circle little star. Either you come out or it all ends right here.
It’s me and you baby, till the bitter end. I’ll have you with
me either way.” The sound of his voice, broken and scratchy
twists my heart painfully ripping me open. Making room for
the gut-wrenching fear that takes hold of me as I clumsily
push myself to my feet.
I’m not scared for me, I’m scared for him. For the broken
man on the other side of the door. The man that needs me,
the little boy that felt all alone.
“Liam don’t.” My fingers shake, every warning siren in my
head blaring as I unlock the door. What I see on the other
side somehow manages to damage my bleeding heart even
further. Liam is panting his face wet with tears as he pulls
the gun from his temple, pointing it inches from my face. He
smiles, a thin line of sweat making his hair stick to his
forehead, the veins in his tattooed arms more pronounced
than normal. I swing the door open the rest of the way and
take a step back.
“I love you, I’m sorry.” He mutters, before he uncocks the
gun, discarding it on the floor. He stalks towards me, “You
ran from me, again.” I immediately recognize my mistake,
my heart jumping into my throat. I try to slam the door but
he’s too quick. Before I blink, his hands are on me, gripping
my neck as he forces me onto the bed, “You’re mine.”
More tears slip from my eyes as I take in his panicked
expression. His grip tightening uncomfortably on my throat,
making my breath raspy with the effort it takes to pull it into
my lungs.
“I love you. Please don’t leave. I promise I’ll fix this. Just
don’t go.”
I dig my nails into his hands as black dots fill my vision.
I can’t… breathe.
A tear slips from his deep blue eye, splattering onto my
cheek as it mixes with mine.
I love you Liam. I don’t want to leave you. I never did.
My eyes get heavy as more dots fill my vision, obscuring his
beautiful, tortured face. He shoves me deeper into the
mattress. Shaking his head, tears falling from those crazed
eyes as he strangles me. I trail my shaking hands up his
muscular arms, knotting them in his hair. My last bit of
strength goes to forcing his forehead against mine.
I think. I think I understand . You’re scared. You need help. I
can help you.
A shuttering breath leaves his throat as he releases my
neck. I gasp for air. It feels like fire in my lungs as he pulls
me into his arms. He holds me there tightly as he peppers
kisses wherever he can. I cling to him tightly too, tighter
than I ever have.
“I’m sorry I hurt you.” He whispers as I pull back, my breath
still coming in uneven and heavy. I nod, pressing my
quivering lips into his.
This isn’t okay. It’s so fucking far from okay. It's horrible and
fucked and I need him just as much as he needs me.

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M ore tears slip from my puffy eyes as he refastens a
padded cuff lock around my ankle, running his fingers
around the outline. Making sure it's not hurting me. The
other end hooked to, from what I can tell, some metal bar
he’s installed underneath his bed. I rest my chin on my
knees, “You had this here the whole time?”
He gives me a slight nod, “Since before you left me, just in
case.”
This was always his plan.
My heart warms dreadfully as my stomach twists, “Am I the
only one?” I whisper the words, half hoping he doesn’t hear
them. It's stupid that something like that matters at a time
like this. He reaches up lightly, gripping my chin before
wiping my tears from my face, “Of course little love, it’s only
you. Only ever been you that… did this to me.”
“How long?” I whisper, nervous I’ll set him off again. The
fact that he’s acting normal, like the normal Liam has me on
edge.
Or at least what I assume to be the normal Liam. I don’t
guess I’d really know.
“How long what?” He asks, leaning back as he gently pulls
his hand up my inner thigh, causing waves of heat to flood
my tightening core. I don’t fight it. There’s no sense in it.
Not anymore. I’m his.
“How long will you keep me here like this?”
“As long as it takes, Layla. I won’t let you go, not again. I
know you’re upset with me, for everything. You have every
right to be, but you also have to understand it was my only
choice.”
I scoff despite myself, “You could’ve just spoke to me, but
no, you stood there and stared at me like I was a fucking
enigma.” He jerks the chain, making me fall back onto the
bed before dragging me to him, my breath hitching as he
crawls on top of me, “You are an enigma.”
I shake my head, repeating myself like the broken record I
am, “You could’ve just spoken to me.”
“And say what, baby? Sorry I tried to kill your boss? I’m not.
Sorry I did what I had to, to keep you safe? I’m not. Sorry, I
can’t fucking stand the thought of anyone’s hands on your
soft skin?” I bite into my lower lip as his graze my
collarbone.
“I’m not fucking sorry. I’m not sorry I killed that douche you
were with. I’m not sorry I slit the throat of the cop that hurt
you.”
My God Liam…
“Did you kill her too, your au pair?”
He pulls his eyes from my heaving chest, meeting mine, “It
was the first time I ever felt it… that part of me. The real
me, I tried to convince her to stay. To take me with her, but
she wouldn’t. I couldn’t stand it, the thought of her leaving
me behind with that family, so I got… mad. I don’t
remember much, except my hands on her right before she
fell.” Tears fill my eyes again as I cup his face. He leans into
my touch closing his, overwhelmed by the memory.
“I’ve spent my whole life hiding that part of me, the part
that… fixates. You changed all of that the moment I saw
you, I didn’t want to hide anymore. I just wanted you to see
me, Layla.”
“You’ve hurt a lot of people. Things can’t go back to how
they were. You realize that right?” He ignores me, but his
eyes darken, as if he’s considering the truth behind my
words. It's unlike him to not think things through.
“Lítla ást tell me, it wasn’t all bad, was it?” He asks as he
gently runs his lips over the fabric of my shirt. His lips and
tongue teasing my hardened nipples through the thin fabric.
The next breath I take is shuttering and all-consuming. I
don’t have it in me to push him away, to try and break free.
Nothing in me wants to fight this, fight him despite all the
terrible things he’s done.
He did it all for you.
Can he love me? Truly love me after the things he’s put me
through? He enjoyed every rip in my heart, every single
time I begged him to stop. He liked it.
Didn’t you?
I feel arousal seep into my underwear, the heated core
between my thighs tightening as he continues down.
Suddenly feeling very grateful for my last cycle being a
teaser period.
“Remember that first night how I licked your desperate little
cunt?” A moan slips from my lips as I pull my legs further
apart for him. Exposing myself, the sound of the chain
dragging against the floor beneath the bed sends chills
down my spine, only adding to the need growing between
my legs. He gently runs his hand underneath my shirt,
cupping my breast. Rolling my nipple between his fingers,
making me raise my chest higher. Pushing my breast harder
into his hand, he smirks, pinching down on my nipple
roughly, “Answer the question, little star.”
“Yes, I remember.” I gasp as he uses his free hand to slide
my underwear over, his tongue teasing my slit. “You called
out for me. Even then you knew, part of you knew.” With
that he dives in, his tongue slipping inside of me before he
curls it up hitting me somewhere that forces my head
backwards. I cry out something between a moan and his
name. My body pitches up, back arching off the bed as his
fingers lightly tease my nipples. “Liam, slow down.” I moan,
unsure if I actually want him to as he continues his assault
on my throbbing sex.
“Mine.” He groans against me as he withdraws. I take a
deep breath before he sucks my clit into his mouth roughly,
sending me hurtling towards my orgasm. He doesn’t let up
as the sensation becomes too much, my hands fisting the
sheets at my sides. Just as I begin to tighten, he releases
me, dragging his mouth down to my inner thigh just below
the place where I need him most. I moan, bucking my hips
in a desperate attempt to release the tension.
Bite. Lick. Suck.
His messy copper hair brushes across my sensitive
throbbing flesh, tickling and teasing it as he moves to the
opposite side.
Bite, lick, suck.
“Tell me you’re mine.”
I shake my head. How could I say that to you right now even
if it is true? After everything you’ve done. “Tell me.” He
warns before nipping at my throbbing bud. I push my core
into him as he resumes lapping at me. As soon as my climax
nears he once again pulls back, leaving me panting and
brimming with need.
“Please.” I beg, my voice breaking as all of those
overwhelming emotions flood back to me. I reach down,
knotting my hands in his soft hair before he roughly pins
them at my sides. Slipping feather light flicks of his tongue
over my clit again and again, forcing me to the brink.
“Liam.” I moan as tears fill my sore, puffy eyes.
“You tried to run from me. Did you really think I was going to
let you get away with that? That I wouldn’t punish you,
Layla?”
Punish me…
I cry out as he starts the process all over again, bringing me
to the cusp of an orgasm before jerking it away, leaving me
panting with a painful throb in my sex. “Tell me who you
belong to.” Anger flares up inside me as I try to force my
legs closed. Another game. Another way for him to sate the
monster that runs rampant in his mind, “You.” I spit out,
ignoring the way I gush at his smirk.
“Good girl.” He whispers against my skin before he pulls out
his hardened length, roughly flipping me onto my stomach. I
bite down on my bottom lip as he jerks my hips up, burying
himself inside me, forcing his name from my lips. His thrusts
are frenzied and brutal, the sounds of our flesh filling the
room as he bends, pressing rough kisses into my back. I
scream as a sudden wall of pleasure rips through me,
making my limbs go weak beneath him. The orgasm is
equal parts pleasure and pain, just like him. “There you go
baby.” He groans and all the sudden his thrusts aren’t
rough. They’re slow, languid. He cups my face from behind
as he pulls in and out of me no shortage of love in his eyes.
He moans my name and my heart flutters as he presses his
forehead to my back and erupts inside of me. Jerking
slightly from the waves of his own orgasm, he smiles
against my flushed skin, “Tell me you love me.”
I don’t tell him anything.

I wish I could say something had changed after that. That

there was a blinding moment of clarity in his eyes, that he
untied me and held me tightly in his arms, begging for my
forgiveness. That everything fixed itself and we were okay.
That I was okay.
He didn’t, and I wasn’t.
I stare blankly at the bedroom door. It sits wide and
unwavering like a taunt, always just out of reach as the sun
sets over Liam’s freckled skin. It’s been two days, two days
of trying to reason with him. Reassuring him I won't leave,
that I couldn’t of I wanted to. I’m far… far too gone for that.
Two days spend trying to make him understand he can’t
keep me locked up forever.
“Why the fuck can’t I, Layla? I’m everything you need.”
God help me, I’ve slept better the last two nights than I
have since before this started. Wrapped in his strong arms,
nestled into his chest. The smell of him ensuring my dreams
are nothing short of blissful nightmares. Completely safe,
completely content. How? How can I possibly feel content
with him after the things he’s done? I turn my attention
back to Liam, his muscular tattooed arms tucked under his
pillow as he sleeps on his stomach. The script across his
back, declaring his love for me. I hate to admit how hard I
blushed after I saw he had tattooed my name. How hard we
fucked after my revelation.
I need just as much help as he does.
I try to resist the urge to reach out and touch him. It doesn’t
work. Never has. Watching those damming blue eyes of his
flutter open as I trace imaginary pictures between the
freckles that dot his shoulders, my eyes dipping to the bite
mark I left on his back just days ago. He smiles as he props
himself up on his elbow, “You should have woken me
sooner, little star.”
“We can’t keep doing this.” I state blankly, trying to keep
my voice steady as I chew my bottom lip. “You can’t keep
acting like this is normal. You have me chained to a bed for
fuck's sake.” His eyes darken, the smile long gone by the
time he cups my face, running his thumb over my cheek,
“What do you want from me then? Tell me how to make you
happy.” I roll my eyes, jerking from his grasp.
“I want you to get help. Liam, you’ve had me chained to a
bed for two days, you’ve taken my phone, my keys,
passport, everything. Ava is probably freaking out looking
for me!”
“Maybe this isn’t the best way to go about it but I love-“ I
shoot up, scrambling off the bed so quickly my head spins
as I stalk towards the dresser.
I go to the dresser because that’s the only place I can go.
“Spare me that I love you bullshit! You can’t possibly love
me. This isn’t what people do when they love each other.”
My outburst is short lived as he slowly stands from the bed,
his fists clenched.
“How have I not proved my love for you? Huh? You need
more Layla? Tell me and I’ll give it to you!” I flinch as he
raises his voice.
Don’t yell please.
“I don’t fucking love you..” He scoffs, shaking his head
before closing the distance between us. Something in him
shifts, that monster ripping the reins from him. He towers
over me, capturing my chin before kissing me deeply, and I
let him because how could I not? His tongue and lips making
expert passes at mine, like he’s trying to commit it to
memory. “I’ll prove how deep my love for you goes.
Everything I’m willing to do for you, to keep you here with
me, safe. There’s no line I won’t cross, I’ll make you see
that. It’s all for you. It’s always been you.”
A new coldness sinks into my veins as he pulls away, jerking
on his hoodie that sat discarded on the bench at the end of
his bed. My heart drums as he jerks his keys from an old
pair of pants. True panic blooms in my chest when I realize
he’s leaving. He’s going to leave me here chained up and
alone, “Liam no. Please. I don’t want that. I don’t need it,
I’m sorry. Stay.” It comes out whiney and desperate and I
don’t care because I’m both those things.
Say it Layla. Tell him you love him. That's what he’s waiting
for. .
His eyes search mine for a moment before he bends down
sealing our fate in another soul crushing kiss. I have no idea
what he saw in mine if it was what he wanted. Liam gives
nothing away as he heads from the room. Pausing in the
doorway and my chest fills briefly with hope.
He turns, looking over his shoulder that handsome and
chilling smirk on his face, “I love you little star, be home
soon.” With that, he pulls the hood over his copper hair and
he’s gone.
I love you too, please don’t go. Please.
Panic keeps those words locked in place and I’m an awful
selfish bitch for it. They beg to be released. It was so easy
before with him. Before he did things that changed me
forever, changed us forever. I had no clue, I was so fucking
stupid and I still am. He needed me. He needed me to tell
him he was loved, and I didn’t. What he did to Danvers was
just the start. The tip of his insanity and it scared me. What
he’ll do now scares me. Yet these past months, all I’ve
wanted was him, both versions of him. I should be horrified
by what he’s done for me. To keep me. So why am I no
longer horrified by the depths of his depravity? The thing I
fear most of all is losing him. The wall of panic that comes
with that thought slams into me the moment I hear the latch
of the front door.
“Liam! Liam wait! Please!” I scramble off the bed,
whimpering as my feet tangle in the chain beneath me my
chin colliding hard with the floor. Peaches stands from her
bed, walking lazily over before settling beside me. Utterly
oblivious to her dad going full on Joe Goldberg.
“Liam! For the love of God, Liam, get in here!”
It’s pointless, I know that. Why can’t I stop screaming? My
grandpa’s words play over in my head, never let them go. I
don’t think he meant my psychotic ex-boyfriend, but it
doesn’t change a thing. I’ve found that person.

OceanofPDF.com
I wipe the snot from my raw stuffy nose against the back of
my hand, sucking in a shuttering breath. The past four hours
I’ve been consistently bouncing between ugly crying and
trashing his bedroom in hopes of releasing myself. Also, I’ve
successfully blocked off my access to the bathroom so that’s
great. What he said before he left… I don’t know what he
meant by it. He’s never shared his hidden agendas with me
before. I suppose I shouldn’t be torn to shreds about it this
time. I shudder to think what proving his love might look like
to Liam.
I highly doubt he’s on a flower and chocolate run.
What the fuck does love even look like to him? His version of
a happily ever after is almost certainly far different from
mine. The past two days, he’s been… happy. Content to
have me here. The circumstances didn’t faze him because
he had what he wanted. I shake my head, groaning to
myself at the ridiculous way that warms my heart. Peaches
abandoned me outside the bedroom hours ago, can’t say I
blame her. I’ve been… a mess. The rattling of a key turning
in a lock jostles me from my thoughts, making my heart
thump loudly in my chest. Although I’ve never seen Liam
actually use a key before, save for my house. He always just
unlocks his from his phone.
“Liam?”
I jump as Brandon’s booming voice fills the house, Peaches
jumps to her feet snarling as she positions herself between
me and the door just as he steps into view. His eyes go wide
with shock as he takes in the scene and three apprehensive
steps back, “Layla, holy fuck.”
“Peaches halt. Lay down.” She lays down, still fidgeting
anxiously on the floor as she watches him take a hesitant
step forward, a deep snarl on her large jowls. “Where’s
Liam?” I ask, trying to control the overwhelming urge to
burst apart. Crying and screaming now won’t help me and
I’m pretty sure I’m mostly tapped out, anyway. Brandon
hurries into the bedroom, taking in the destruction as he
goes his face contorting in horror as his eyes land on my
battered ankle clasped and deeply bruised beneath the
metal restraint. It’s not Liam’s fault, not this one at least.
I’ve been jerking at the damn thing every chance I got since
he slipped it onto me.
“I don’t know. I was trying to find him. Layla, I’m sorry. I’m
sorry. Let’s get you out, hang on.”
Liam, what have you done?
I know logically he’s not leaving. That Brandon wouldn’t
leave me like this, but the second he jogs from the room,
my gut twists. I hold my breath until he re-emerges, “I didn’t
know, I mean I knew he was fucking with you. God, this is
fucked. I should’ve stopped him. I didn’t realize he would do
this .” He mumbles, looking moments away from his own
meltdown. A pair of large bolt cutters in his hand.
“Look, we can go over that later. We need to find Liam. He
got mad, said he was going to prove his love for me. I don’t
know what that meant.”
“You need to call Ava. She’s freaking the fuck out. She
showed up to Curran Enterprises screaming in the lobby,
demanding to see Liam. That’s when I realized he was gone
as soon as she left, I got an email from his lawyers…”
My heart stills in my chest, the chain falling from my ankle
clattering to the floor loudly announcing my newfound
freedom, but I don’t move. My hand absent-mindedly
wrapped around the cuff still attached to me. The sick look
on Brandon’s face keeping me rooted to the spot.
“What?”
He swallows hard, looking like he’s about to vomit. The
effect is quickly wearing off on me, “It was an advanced
directive, Layla. Something is wrong.”
My stomach drops alongside my heart as I scramble to my
feet, dashing over to the closet. I don’t bother closing the
door as I rip the snot covered t-shirt I was wearing from my
body, jerking a few strands of hair with it. I jerk on a clean
jacket and pants all the while Brandon’s eyes are glued to
the piled chain on the floor, “What did he say? Anything that
would give you an idea of where he was heading?”
I wet my dry cracked lips jerking shoes on as I hop
awkwardly from the closet, “I don’t know, this all went to
shit when I asked about his au pair. It led me to figuring out
the rest. We fought and then I ended up,” I gesture towards
the bed, “like this.”
His head snaps towards me, “How?”
“How what?”
“How did you figure it out?!” He raises his voice, making me
flinch, though I know he’s not mad at me. It’s clear in his
eyes how scared he is, how scared we both are.
“I... received a case file from a private investig- “
“Fuck!” He yells again, making Peaches jump to her feet.
“Halt.” I command, holding my hand out to stop her.
“He told him to give that to you Layla. Liam wanted you to
find out. Grace all but ordered him outright to fucking kill
you when the PI told her you were asking around. Come on.”
I don’t ask questions as he grips my wrist, pulling me
outside with him until the cold air slams into me. His hold on
my wrists only barely keeps me upright as I stumble behind
him. “What is going on Brandon?!”
“We need to get to Curran Manor, I think he’s there for her.
The crazy fuck…”
His mom…
I slam the truck door behind me only seconds before he
peels out of Liam’s driveway leaving black tire marks behind
us, “He wouldn’t hurt her would he?” I grip the handle as he
races down the long drive. My heart beating wildly. He
doesn’t look at me as he scoffs, “I’m surprised she isn’t
already dead. Would’ve happily killed her years ago myself.
She wasn’t a great mom Layla. Used to dye Liam’s hair,
bleach his skin since he was a toddler cause he looked like
his dad. Drove her fucking crazy, she never loved him. I
don’t think Grace Curran ever loved anyone, not even
herself.” A light sob leaves my throat.
I’m so scared. So fucking sorry.
“He never told me.”
He gives me a half-hearted smile, “Of course not. He didn’t
want you to think he was weak. He loves you more than
anything he really does. Sorry it comes out like this . I never
really held him accountable for being… crazy. He was just,
hell I don’t know. I’m sorry.”
“It’s fine, I was stupid. Fuck, I should’ve known, especially
after we split up. I just didn’t want to see it. I… I love him,
Brandon. I want to be with him, for him to be okay. Guess
that makes me crazy too.”
“Yeah probably.” He deadpans before gripping the steering
wheel tighter. Our shared anxiety is damn near palatable as
we race down the road, weaving between cars.
Please be okay.
 Almost Easy by Avenged Sevenfold
“Fuck me.” Brandon mumbles as we pull into the long
driveway leading up to what was formerly Curran Manor.
The night sky and perfectly manicured trees lit with lapping
flame.
Oh god no.
A strange sob leaves my throat as I jerk open the truck door,
not waiting for it to stop completely. Uncoordinatedly spilling
from the cab, closely followed by Brandon. His frantic
footsteps feel too loud crunching through the gravel. The
sound of the house crumbling, branches falling from trees
that got caught up in the flame. It’s too much. This is all too
much. He comes up in front of me, hands pulling at his long
hair. Tears fill his eyes, “Can you see him? I can’t fucking see
him.”
“It’s okay! He’s there, he’s right there!” My chest heaves as
smoke billows from the manor, the outline of Liam’s tall
form standing in front of the building as his memories and
heartache burn before him. Every second he spent alone,
every tear the little boy shed reducing themselves to ash.
Crash!
I flinch as the windows blow out from the upper floor,
everyone in there is dead. I know that, I know what he’s
done. The awful cruel things he’s done, but I… don’t care.
Tears stream down my face for the broken little boy standing
in front of us. I cry staring at him, everything else blurs.
Everything that isn’t him. That final part of me cracking,
that very last part I held together.
I can be what you need Liam. I will be that for you. I’ll love
you unconditionally, even the bad parts. I won’t leave.
I didn’t understand then, but… I do now. My heart collapses
in on itself as he falls to his knees. I don’t think as I rush
towards him. Brandon’s agonized scream comes from
behind me, but I can barely hear him. Liam’s blue eyes are
lit with a reflection of flames and twenty-six years worth of
unshed tears as I clutch him close to me. His shoulders
shake as he let’s go, let’s go of everything he couldn’t
before.
“Shhhh, I’m here. I’m not going to leave. I promise. I won’t.
Never.”
His strong arms wrap around my stomach. He looks up at
me from underneath his thick wet eyelashes. His sculpted
face painted with soot from the fire he set. The heat from it
is uncomfortable. Even now. The thought of him inside that
building makes me want to curl up and die. I could’ve lost
you. God, I couldn’t. I couldn’t bear it.
“I’m sorry, little star. I’ve ruined everything.”
I give him a teary smile, smoothing my hands through his
messy hair. “It’ll be okay. We’ll make it okay Liam.”
I don't believe my own words but I can’t tell him that. Not
now.
I hear the sirens in the distance and we hold each other
tighter. Both of us knowing it could be the last time. I cry
harder as they grow closer and he rocks us until the red and
blue lights flash off the tall statue in the circle drive. We
need to move, but I can’t force myself from him. I wouldn’t
dare.
I won’t let you go again. Not when you need me this badly.
“You’re mine Layla.”
“Of course I am. I always was.”
He smiles, truly smiles. I wish I could stare at it forever. A
sob leaves my chest as the pounding footsteps of police
approach. I see Brandon’s large form dart towards the door
of the crumbling house. I don’t understand why and I don’t
care. He’s jerked back by firefighters and I don’t spare him
another glance.
“Liam Curran, put your hands where I can see them and
step away from her now!
His eyes don’t leave mine as he leans up, gripping my face
in his hands.
“Don’t fucking move!”
My soul burns hotter than the crumbling building beside us
as his lips connect with mine. He’s done terrible things. I
shouldn’t feel this way. Not now, but God help me, I do. I
love Liam Curran. I love him with all his broken pieces. I
gasp when they jerk him from me. That unsettling laugh I’ve
come to know so well still forces a chill down my spine. My
heart shatters, it’s parts mixing with the gravel as a tear
slips down his freckled cheek.
“I love you Layla. I love you so fucking much!” He yells,
fighting their hold as they wrestle him to the ground, his
chin colliding hard against the rocks.
“Don’t hurt him!” My voice comes out as a broken cry as an
officer tries to pull me to my feet. I jerk away from them. I
don’t want to go. I want to make sure this hellhole smolders
to ash for him. I’ll stay the whole time if I have to.
“I love you too, Liam. I’ll always love you.” I whimper, as
they jerk him back to his feet, his chin bloody from the
impact. It does nothing to phase the smile that spreads
across his face. “Took you long enough.” He mutters as they
drag him away from me, taking my heart with him. He’s
beautiful even now, the red and blue flittering across his
dirty and bloodied face. My body shakes with the effort it
takes not to dissolve. Another hand touches me as I slap it
away. Watching as they take him from me.
I’m not going.
“He’s gone Layla. Please, it’s not safe here. We need to get
back.” Brandon’s voice pulls my attention from Liam’s dark
silhouette in the back of the tented windows of the police
car. I barely feel it when he lifts me. Taking me away, my
head feels heavy and I let it roll back as my gaze dips to the
crumbling manor. It can’t possibly fall fast enough.
“I’m sorry. God, I’m sorry.” He whispers, tears streaming
down his face as he sits me on my feet next to a waiting
ambulance. I nod, my chest aching. Nothing can ever go
back to how it was before. There’s no way, “He needs help
Brandon, that’s all.” Brandon just stares at me, there’s so
much pain flooding his hazel eyes it's nearly impossible to
watch. I took over his shoulder, watching his best friend be
driven away. The taillights seem to mock me the further
they wind down the driveway. All my revelations, everything
we’ve went through, all for what? For me to lose him
anyway?
No fucking way.
I don’t realize how hard I’m breathing, or how much my
chest hurts with each breath until I feel my head go light.
The flashing lights and yelling from all around seem like too
much again and all at once. The dots that blanket my vision
seem small, but they quickly grow bigger. I grip Brandon’s
arm as everything goes black.

OceanofPDF.com
W hen I open my eyes, I’m met with the harsh florescent
lights boring down on me, as if being awake wasn’t
punishment enough. My eyes water as they try to adjust to
what appears to be a hospital room. If the grating beep,
beep, beep, beep is any indication. I rack my brain and for
the life of me, I can’t think of any good reason to be stuck in
a hospital. That is until the searing pain in my left arm hits
me, making me groan and I clench my eyes shut again.
I’ll just go back to sleep.
“Lay!” Ava’s panicked voice gives me little to no warning
before I’m jerked up into a bear hug, only exasperating the
pain in my arm. As grateful as I am for the gesture, I wish
she’d let go. Mentally shaking away the uneasy feeling in
my gut, I’ve never been happier to see my best friend's
face. “Are you okay? Do you need anything for the pain?
Where the fuck is the nurse?” I frown, looking down at my
upper arm. I stare at the heavily bandaged appendage,
wrapped snugly from my shoulder to my elbow. As if the
reason for them might be scribbled somewhere on the white
gauze.
I don’t remember being hurt.
“Yeah, it hurts pretty bad, actually. Where’s Brandon? Has
he called Liam’s lawyers?”
She stops fretting over the pillow behind me immediately,
meeting my eyes for a second before heading towards the
door. “I’ll get Brandon.”
“Ava, hang on, how did I get hurt?” I ask, my voice pitching
up too high. Why does she look so uncomfortable? Why do I
feel so uncomfortable? Like something is nagging at me,
deep in my chest.
“You got burned Lay. Only second degree they said you can
go home but we don’t… think that’s smart. Peaches is at my
place already. Brandon pulled you out before it could get
any worse. You scared him half to death.” She cringes at the
last word, and it only unsettles me further. “I’ll just go get
him now, okay? Don’t stand up on your own.” I nod,
grabbing the scratchy hospital blanket closer to me.
Clenching it tightly in my hand. Something is off. I feel like
I’m missing things. I can remember Brandon carrying me to
the ambulance after they arrested Liam. I didn’t go
anywhere near the house, not near enough to be burned at
least. Forcing my hands to unfurl, I notice how bad the
action hurts. I glance down at my bright and angry palms.
Guess they got burned too. I grit my teeth at the machine
I’m hooked up to, it's beeping faster now. Pulling my arm up,
I wince as I begin undoing the gauze wrap that binds it.
Exposing the blistered flesh underneath, some of them
already popped.
This fucking hurts.
“Layla, thank god you’re awake.” Brandon looks like shit. His
black hair is pulled up, knotted around the tie that holds it,
his white button down stained black and singed. His
bloodshot and swollen eyes won’t meet mine. Panic rises
from my gut into my chest.
Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep.
“Tell me where Liam is.” I demand as I kick off the covers,
jerking the flimsy fabric of the hospital nightgown closer to
me. My arm hurts even more now that it’s exposed to the
air somehow. The sight of my angry red and blistered skin
makes me sick to my stomach, so I don’t look.
I take a step forward, only to take one back again as a
broken sound slips from the tall man’s throat, “Layla…
Liam-“
“Stop.”
His eyes widen as he takes a small step towards me, his
hands raised like I’m some caged animal.
Something is wrong.
“I’m leaving, I’ll go down to the police station myself. I know
he’s in trouble, but he needs help. Actual help not to be
sitting in a jail cell they can’t- “
“Layla sit down.” He pleads but there’s a commanding note
in his voice. I don’t care. He isn’t going to keep me from
Liam. Nobody is. Ever. I continue to ignore his pleas,
searching the room frantically for my clothes as Ava steps
back in with a nurse. The look on my best friend's face
sends coiled rage through me. Burning far worse than my
stupid fucking arm.
They’re being stupid. All of them. Fucking idiots.
“Goddammit Ava, stop looking at me like that and help me
find my clothes.” I order her, tearing around the room more
aggressively than I probably should. I hit the end of my line,
what’s allowed by the frantically beeping machine. It feels
like I’m bound for him again, and my heart flutters as I jerk
it off my chest. The pole to the IV in my arm tugs at me too,
and it’s the next to go. It hurts as I pry at the tape holding it
in, trying to get the needle free from my good arm.
“Layla!” I flinch as Brandon yells. Backing up like the caged
animal he’s making me out to be as he crosses the room
wrapping me in his arms.
Stop it. Fucking stop, you’re stupid. None of you understand.
Stop touching me. Liam hates that.
His large frame shakes as he buries my head in his chest,
pinning me so tightly to him I can’t tell if he’s using me for
support or restraining me, “He’s gone Layla.”
What a sick fucking joke.
“Are you trying to be funny? The cops arrested him shortly
after we got to the manor.” I spit out, seething. My hands
shaking as I shove at his enormous chest, struggling against
his hold. My burned arm scraping against him feels nearly
as bad as my heart. He shushes me like you would a small
child in the throes of a tantrum. “Please stop, just listen to
me.” His voice breaks and I’ve had enough. He shouldn’t be
touching me. Nobody fucking touches me. “Layla I’m sorry…
I’m sorry.”
No. No. No. No.
“Layla…” Ava’s hands find me and it’s too fucking much.
She rubs them down my back. Each stoke fanning what’s
building inside my chest, “Liam killed his mother. He set the
house on fire. Please sit back down. You’re scaring me.”
“No shit, Ava. Let me go!” I yell as Brandon buries his face
in my hair. He’s shaking with tears and I can hear the nurse
trying to defuse the situation. It does the opposite. She’s not
going to listen either and I can't think of anything outside of
getting out of here. Getting to Liam. Some fucking friend
you are Brandon. I jerk as his grip tightens more making a
small grunt leave my throat. The next thing out of his mouth
doesn’t make sense, they are jumbled words and letters. Put
together in an order my brain can’t decipher.
I need to get to Liam, he needs help.
“We need to ask Miss. Burke some questions.” Brandon
reluctantly lets me go and I immediately get back to
searching for my clothes more frantic than last time.
Ignoring the two uniformed officers that just stepped into
the crowded hospital room.
“Can’t you see this isn’t a good time?” Ava snaps, as the
man I recognize as Officer Raymond steps closer to me, so
close I can smell the cheap cologne. Brandon tenses,
stepping closer too not paying any attention me trying to
shove him away. Maybe you’ll finally be helpful, everyone
has lost their fucking minds.
“Where is Liam being held?” I demand, standing up as tall
as I can despite the violent tremors raging through my body.
Officer Raymond takes a deep breath, his eyes cold and
angry. It would be alarming in any other circumstance. “City
morgue, your cop killer boyfriend burned to death in the fire
he set. He started it in the attic Miss. Burke, got disoriented
in the smoke. Seems a fitting way to go.”
No.
My knees shake, giving out from underneath me. They
knock against the hard floor, jerking the IV stand down as I
go. I don’t so much as flinch when Brandon yells, his fist
colliding with the side of Officer Raymond’s face as chaos
erupts in the room. Ava’s panicked screeching and the
shuffle of feet on tile fill my ears. Barely audible above the
ringing.
“My fiancé. You said boyfriend, he’s my fiancé.” I whisper as
bile rises in my throat. Nobody is paying attention to me for
the time being, but that’s fine. I double over, wrapping my
arms around my stomach like they’re the only things
holding me together. I remember his sweaty forehead
pressed against me as he smiled that beautiful, cunning
smile. His firm hands shook when he held me. I finally got to
tell him I loved him.
He’s not… no. He’s not.
I held him; I watched the manor burn at his side. He looked
happy. I’m his. What am I supposed to do if I’m not his?
Liam… ohmyfuckinggod Liam.
“Layla, no!” Brandon grabs for me but I slip from him. My
heart pounding as the heat from the manor becomes
unbearable. It doesn’t stop me. How could it? My palms
burn, but it doesn’t matter. Nothing matters but him.
The room falls silent as an agonized scream comes from
somewhere beside me, or maybe from me. I can’t tell and I
don’t care to figure it out. The things flashing in my head
won’t stop, I can’t make it stop. I don’t fight the wrong
feeling hands as they touch my burned skin, forcing me
back into the hospital bed. Nor do I fight anything that
comes after.
I love you. I love you so much. Please, please stop, stop
touching me. He’ll kill you, I’m his. He’s going to kill all of
you.
Four Days After Liam
I run my fingers over the cool metal of the bench in front of
Fairview. It hurts, but in a grounding way. The pain keeps me
from floating back to the recesses of my mind as Ava pulls
her car around. It’s hard not to go there so I don’t fight it. I
give in to him. To the thought of him, of the last time I was
here. On this very bench, basking in the cool air in the
morning sun. I thought things were hard then. I thought I
was numb, God… I had no idea.
I watch Liam step out of his sleek car. His dark pressed
navy-blue suit makes him look every bit the powerful CEO
that he is. It's not the exact one I imagined him in on the
phone, but Liam is always unfairly attractive no matter what
he’s wearing. His full lips turn up at the corners as his ocean
blue eyes land on me. I want to return the smile but it never
comes. I want to tell him how good it feels to see him, how
thankful I am for him getting me out of here, but my words
fail me. He knows, he always knows what I need, what I
want to say. He reaches out, holding out his hand for me,
“Ready to go home, little star?” I take it quickly. His warm
hand feels like balm on my soul.
Yes. I am.
“Layla?”
Not looking away from the ground, I stand slowly from the
bench as we head to the warm car. She helps me in, even
though I don’t need it but I don’t fight her. Don’t fight
anything anymore, it's easier that way. I watch the wipers
dispatch the water droplets left behind by the falling snow
as it melts against the glass. Grateful for the first relative
moment of privacy since I was brought here. It was jarring,
being pinned by eyes that weren’t his.
“Lay… I know this isn’t a good time, but they really need
your signature on the papers. They’ve been calling and
stopping by nonstop.”
I never wanted this.
“Can’t they give it to Brandon?” I ask, ignoring the small
whimper she makes from the driver’s seat. On a normal day
I might’ve rolled my eyes. This is the first time I’ve spoken
since the hospital, not necessarily on purpose. I just haven’t
had anything to say. After everything that’s happened, the
light at the end of my tunnel was snuffed out. A beautiful,
selfish, insane man snuffed along with it and he took me
with him. Just like he promised he would.
I still have nothing to say. I don’t think this is what he
meant. Once things are handled, maybe I’ll fix it, make it
the way he meant. It feels like the right thing to do.
Although I’ve found right and wrong are wildly subjective to
me these days.
I suppose you could call this the denial stage. That’s what
the psychiatrist said it was. At the risk of sounding cliché, it
doesn’t feel like real life. Like this is some weird nightmare
I’ll wake up from, and he’ll be there. Beside me, I don’t even
care if I’m chained to that damn bed. Chained to him as
long as he’s-
Stop. Stop this.
“It was in his will to leave you everything, babe. You can’t
refuse that. It’s what he wanted.” The chipped tone in her
voice isn’t lost on me, but I don’t fault her for it. Seeing all
the evidence compiled without knowing him like I do would
be alarming I’ll admit. I would probably feel the same if the
situation were flipped. He never stopped to ask me what I
wanted. All of this could’ve been avoided. James, Officer
Daniels and his wife, hell even Grace might still be alive had
we both not been so fucking stupid.
“If you’re ever fortunate enough to find someone that loves
you so ferociously it turns your world inside out with napalm
skies. Never let them go.”
I failed them both. Not only did I let him go, I shoved him
away, and he cracked under the pressure. He needed me so
badly, he never hid that part not for a moment even if the
rest was built around lies. I turned him away… over and
over again. For what? Pride, anger? Nodding to myself I
reach onto the dash and jerk down the Manila envelope. I
don’t read the fine print as I sign my name at the
highlighted sections once I flip to the last page I pause. The
words there catching my eyes… and my heart.
Petition for change of name.
“What’s this?” I hold up the paper so Ava can glance at it as
she heads down the winding road away from Fairview.
“Did you seriously not even read the damn thing?”
“No.”
She sighs heavily, “It’s one of the many weird ass and
probably illegal clauses in his will. I already had a lawyer
pick through it and its iron clad. In order to receive his
shares, life insurance cetera you have to legally change
your last name to Curran.” My laugh shocks me almost as
much as it does her, “I’m fine with that.” I shudder before
the laughter quickly devolves into violent, loud sobs. I
gently slide my hand away as Ava reaches for it, the idea of
being touched by anyone but him makes me sick.
So fucking sick.
“Lay, you really need to talk to someone… about the stuff
he did to you. Why… why didn’t you tell me it was that bad?
I would’ve been there. God, Layla he chained you up, he
raped- “
“He didn’t rape me.” I snap, wiping the tears from my eyes.
“I wanted it. Every bit I enjoyed; it might not make sense to
you-
“Not make sense to me? The queen of kink, sure it makes
sense. That’s a pretty common one but I worry maybe it’s
something else. I’ve been reading a lot into Stockholm
Syndrome and- “
“Ava, please stop.” I ask, my throat still sore and raspy,
although I’m not sure if it’s from my multiple breakdowns or
the smoke inhalation. It wasn’t until yesterday that the
larger bits of what actually happened that night broke
through the story I had made up in its place. According to
the Psychiatrist my brain couldn’t handle the truth of what
happened, so it made up a better ending to save me from
the grief. It didn't save me from shit.
That explanation still doesn’t feel right, but I won’t tell them
that.
I just want to go home, I want the battered walls and the
furniture he ruined. I want that small hole in the hardwood
where he shoved his knife that first night before cutting my
clothes away.
I want him. I want him so badly I can't breathe.
One Week After Liam
“Layla Brandon is waiting for you.” Ava says, gently tugging
me up from the hard couch in the visitation room. I don’t
want to be here. They both know that. All I care about is
getting our dog and going back home. Who is this for?
Me? No. Liam? No. Certainly not Brandon or the slew of
corporate ass hats here to share their condolences.
I take a deep breath as I follow Ava into the viewing room of
the funeral home, my eyes immediately finding Brandon as
he shoots me a sympathetic look. I wish I could return it. I
almost think I do but I’m not sure if it translated right. Not
sure if I make any face at all, actually. It’s been a week
without him. No calls, no texts, just that stupid song I can’t
stop listening to. My emotions constantly bouncing around
between anger, utter misery and nothing at all.
I’ve settled on nothing at all for the moment. It’s by far my
favorite.
Brandon reaches out, rubbing my upper back in a nice but
misguided attempt to comfort me. I don’t have the heart to
tell him it does the opposite. His guilt is written all over his
face. The toll of what happened that night weighs just as
heavily on him as it does me. He feels responsible for me
now, and I don’t like that. I don’t want it. Part of me can’t
help but to resent him, resent the fact that he pulled me out
of the manor that night. Which I know isn’t fair, I’m sure I’ll
get over it. I don’t cry, nor do I glance at the closed coffin
behind us. They tell me he was too badly burned, that I
couldn’t see him. I begged. Fucking hell, I got on my knees
and begged them to let me see him. Touch him one last
time. I didn’t care how bad it was or if it would haunt me. I
needed that, and they denied me repeatedly. All it did was
make this feel even less real. I feel no tie or association to
the burned corpse in that expensive casket. They could’ve
left it in the house for all I care. It doesn’t feel like him. This
doesn’t feel like a funeral for him. For my Liam. The
preacher drones on and I can almost feel his warmth against
my upturned palm, the way his fingers intertwined with
mine. If I close my eyes at night and focus hard… I can
almost taste him again. The burned flesh grinding against
the fabric of this dress is barely enough to keep me present.
I can hear the shouting from security outside, warning the
protesters to stay back.
Cop killer!
Rapist!
Burn in hell!
Boys in blue!
I stare at my deep perse colored ankle, the color further
darkened by the sheer black tights I’m wearing. I just…
stare. Wishing his soft, adoring touch was lingering over the
damaged flesh. I don’t cry during the drive to the cemetery,
not when I’m offered a bucket full of soil. I don’t cry when I
toss one handful on top of the mahogany box, or when it’s
lowered into the ground. Telling myself he’s not in there.
That he couldn’t possibly be in there.
Not my Liam.
My monster. Tormentor. My love.
The hair stands up on the back of my neck, my body so
accustomed to his gaze every breeze feels like him .

I’m counting down the seconds until I’m back home where I
can slip off a mask of my own. The thought of wearing one
seems less offensive to me now, it’s a necessity. When I’m
home, I don’t have to pretend anymore. I don’t have to act
like I’m not looking for him in every crowd or around every
corner, in every shadow. I don’t have to wait until Ava falls
asleep before calling his phone dozens of times, huddled in
the corner of the dark bedroom rocking back and forth.
Cursing any higher power unfortunate enough to oversee
our sick little story. There’s no way to confirm it was him
that died in that fire… it couldn’t have been. He would’ve
never left me, not after everything he did to keep us
together.
“I am so sorry for your loss. Liam was a kind man.” I feel my
eyebrows pull together, peeking up at another blank face of
another corporate asshat. I’m in charge of these people
now, they know it. Their sleazy resentful stares feel like
putrid grease on my skin. They all blend after a while, each
one offering the same empty condolences. Liam was many
things. Kind wasn’t an attribute he ever particularly worried
himself with when it came to others. I raise my eyebrows
when Brandon scoffs beside me, shifting his body closer to
mine, “Liam hated you and you know it.” I clench my fists,
watching the man’s beady eyes narrow with anger.
“What did you say your name was?” I ask politely, staring at
him the way I watched my Liam stare so many times. Cold,
critical and so fucking intense. I even tilt my head to the
side, just a little.
“Mr. Monet, I was a friend of the late Curran family. Beg my
pardon your family.”
I give him a bitter smile, hoping my eyes are as empty as
my chest, “Mr. Monet, you’re fired.”
Brandon stifles a chuckle beside me as Mr. Whatever gawks,
his scrawny face turning beat red with anger. He doesn’t
have time to speak as Brandon nods to the large men
posted up around us. They don’t take more than four steps
before he stalks from the room, followed closely by them. In
any other situation this would’ve made me happy, maybe
even made me laugh. That was certainly an abuse of my
newfound power as CEO of Curran Enterprises. CEO in spirit,
at least. I have and want nothing to do with the company he
built for the soul purpose of separating himself from his
family's fortune, it meant little to him after he accomplished
that and it means even less to me. Brandon is more
qualified but refused to take my share of the company
stating it’s called Curran Enterprises and it should belong to
a Curran.
That’s me, the last Curran.
Liam left me everything he had, every fucking thing. I’ve
learned so much about the man I love… loved , sorting
through his things when I can tolerate it. I’ve managed one
shoebox of pictures, between the fits of endless screaming
and tears. Even found a picture of his au pair. The woman
that was for all intents and purposes his mother. Of course
baby Liam was fucking adorable, only wish I could’ve seen
his hair it’s natural color when he was young. Seen what our
children might’ve looked like, had we gotten that far. I’ve
taken a dozen pregnancy tests since he left, desperate to
see those two little pink lines. For a piece of him. I haven’t
seen them yet, and my blood work confirmed I wouldn’t. I
have to imagine that was what he had in mind when he took
my IUD out. Despite myself, I flush at the thought, grateful
that’s one memory I was asleep for. Tears fill my eyes
quickly and I blink them away even faster. I take a deep
breath, barely listening to the words of sympathy and hollow
condolences as people filter past, back to their families and
friends. Their homes that still feel like… homes. Brandon’s
hand finds mine and one glance up at his big watery eyes
makes it impossible for me to shake his hand away.
Liam’s not gone. He can’t be… what’s left after that? He
took everything I was. He changed me down to every
molecule, rewrote me for himself and then he left me.
When everyone is gone and the graveyard is quiet again, no
somber music or hushed chatter, just the memories of the
dead narrate my steps down the paved walkway. Ava had to
leave, something about her boss finally tiring of her
canceling showings, but Brandon refused. Unwilling to leave
me alone despite my pleading and reassurances that I won’t
off myself draped longingly over a freshly filled hole in the
ground and a cold grave marker. I forced myself to meet his
eyes, I told him I wouldn’t do it here, anyway. He looked like
he was going to be sick and apparently didn’t find it all that
reassuring. His eyes slipped from mine to the shadows and I
squeezed his arm tightly despite my skin crawling as I did
so.
The breeze dances around me, a fine layer of snow dusting
the ground as I make my way to one more fresh hole in the
ground. One far different in appearance and far, far away
from his. I bend, squatting down beside the humble marker.
Brandon hovering above me, nods in approval, a weak smirk
on his face.
Grace Lynette Curran
May Peace Never Find You
It’s small and unfashionable, closer to a pauper grave than
anything. The privately owned cemetery threw a hissy about
my inscription, refusing downright to add what I really
wanted. At the end of the day, they let me have most of my
way, I am a Curran after all. It’s my right, my duty to give
‘my mother-in-law’ a sendoff befitting of her legacy. The
grand, proud heiress of the Curran family fortune rotting in a
pine box. I didn’t even bother having them vault her in. No
protection from water or insects, just like she offered no
protection to her son or his true mother. No warm hugs,
bedtime stories or kisses. She wasn’t a mother at all. At
least I had that… for a while. Liam never had a chance and
when he got it, it was ripped from him. I stand, reaching
back to Brandon as he shakes the can rigorously, the metal
ball inside clanging loudly against the walls. I grasp it,
feeling the first remotely positive thing I’ve felt in what feels
like a lifetime. The canister is cold in my hand, only half as
satisfying as I imagined it would be. The bright red spray
paint looks jarring against the white of the snow as it picks
up. I toss the can on top of her grave, backing up beside
Brandon as we admire my handiwork.
Rapist
I almost smile. Turns out Liam was just as thorough as a
child as he was as a man. He documented everything. Wrote
down everything. Compiled what he saw since that day.
Grace Curran was not only a terrible mother, but she was a
rapist too. Her and her boyfriends raped Katla Einarasson
brutally over the course of her stay with them. She endured
every assault to remain with Liam, to shelter him from it. He
found out and because of that Grace banished her from the
little boy she loved, only minutes before that little boy
shoved her to her death from the attic balcony of a home
that had become her prison. The private investigator Liam
told to release the file to me was one of them. As of
yesterday he’s also being indicted as an accessory after the
fact, perverting the course of justice, unlawful abandonment
of a body and unlawful captivity. Turns out he survived
Grace all these years because he taped it, all of it. Even
before he was a participant.
Liam planned it all, every moment, down to the last detail.
Every gut-wrenching confession, every shred of evidence he
compiled over the years was released minutes before his
lawyers received his advanced directive, a tendril of anger
slips into my chest.
Did you ever plan to make it out of that house, Liam? Did
you even want to? Was it always part of your plan to leave
me here to pick up the pieces of your fucked family?

OceanofPDF.com
O ne Month After Liam
Peaches runs past me towards the house, her tail going a
mile a minute, I can’t seem to pull my eyes from the dark
wood line. The same way I’ve gotten stuck here every single
time I step outside. I stare so long I begin to see what I want
in those shadows as the sun lowers behind the trees. A tuff
of copper hair, the silhouette of a tall man ducking behind a
tree.
It’s all lies and rationally I know that. It doesn’t stop from
filling my chest with a dangerous breed of hope.
My body remembers the way it felt barreling through those
thick trees, a cold shotgun that did me no good at all
gripped in my hand. My heart hammering in my chest as he
chased me. The way I hoped he would catch up, mark me in
the dirt.
When my eyes finally part from the woods I follow Peaches
around to the front of the house. Again I get stuck on the
ghost of him. I stare at my midnight black front door,
remembering the way Liam spilled a cup of paint onto the
porch as he rocked on the latter touching up the trim. He
was more than tall enough to reach it without one, but he
insisted he would be more precise at eye level. That was
after he had relived me of my painting rights. My side of the
door looked like a hyperactive toddler had painted it. Him
dropping that cup of black paint was the only reason we
ended up replacing the whole porch.
By we I mean I came home from work one day and Liam
already had it torn up, new lumber stacked beside the
house, his hair tousled as he ran his hand through it, looking
over the building plans. Not that it didn’t need done
eventually, anyway. Towards the end, grandpa was too weak
to do much of anything. Before this past month, I thought
watching the dementia take over his mind was the worst
thing I ever experienced.
That was before Liam…
Even while we were apart, he consumed me. I spent those
months believing he hadn’t spared me a second thought.
Wasted months our lives being so fucking angry and torn up
about it all. He was right here, waiting in the dark, watching
me.
Loving me.
After I finally stop staring blankly around my property like a
fucking idiot I head inside, popping some of my anxiety
medication into my mouth, ignoring the bitter taste of the
pill when they sit on my tongue, waiting to be swallowed as
I search for a clean glass for water. My only goal for actually
bothering to take them is to combat at least half of what I’m
feeling. Just half and I’ll be okay for another day.
Not that they seem to be incredibly effective these days.
I run my fingers over the rough edges of the hole that still
sits in the wall opposite of my security system, one I never
arm anymore. Remembering how his muscles rippled
underneath his shirt as he dispatched the system hub that
had once hung here. I continue the process the same one I
carry out more times than I care to admit, every day. Feeling
way too fucking much as I run my fingers along everything
he destroyed downstairs. Most of it long cleaned up, but I
hadn’t bothered with repairs. The idea of changing it now
makes the raw wound festering in my chest throb. I stop
when I reach my grandma’s favorite chair, the only thing I
attempted to fix. I’m not sure what I’m supposed to feel
staring at the lumpy poorly mended seat cushion, but I’m
pretty sure it's not supposed to be anything positive.
Guess we’re both pretty fucked, huh?
I glance at the piles of paperwork that line the couch and
coffee table. It’s everything he’s ever done. His finances, his
properties, writings, notes. It’s dots I haven’t managed to
connect yet. A puzzle he left for me. I could speak up to ask
for help, tell them I refuse to accept he’s gone. I tried that
those first few days and it got me nowhere good. So I
switched tactics telling myself over and over he was dead.
The freckled body I loved was burned past recognition,
which is why I had an involuntary slumber party at Fairview.
I could tell them I can’t stop checking everywhere for a sign
from him, anything. I could tell them that my heart breaks
each time I don’t find one. I could tell them I have a plan.
That I have a year.
A year left to find him, to find something of him, a trace
before I follow the Burke family tradition. My grandmother,
my dad… I can’t even look at the pictures of my grandpa
anymore. Shame fills me, but it doesn’t last long. Nothing
does except the hole in my chest. I head upstairs, the only
part of the house… of my world I keep free from any trace of
what happened. When I’m up here, I’m safe and he’s in the
woods again. I rub my hand slowly over Peaches' back as
she hops up on my bed, the sheets still crumpled from the
last time I laid in them. It's strange and wonderful being up
here, the sensation of eyes prickling my skin. The haven I’ve
created is a convincing one. Walking over to the window
repeatedly as I hit play on that god awful song. It’s only
about 7pm, I haven’t eaten since breakfast but that doesn’t
stop me from popping in a sleeping pill and peeling myself
from the three-day-old clothes I haven’t bothered to change.
The visual of the beautiful mahogany coffin being lowered
into the ground plays through my mind, the cold air blowing
the scent of decaying leaves and roses through the
headstones. His standing out among the others with its
opulent midnight black oval shape.
Liam Theodore Curran
Beloved fiancée and friend
Founder of Curran Enterprises
June 6 th 1996—November 17 th 2021
Madman, serial killer, stalker, master manipulator, dog
lover, craftsmen, mediocre gamer, cunniling expert.
The headstones always feel so… informal. Like you couldn’t
be bothered to scroll through their social media feed to get
to know them. Not that Liam ever had any accounts like
that, but still. I watch the musty fabric pool at my feet,
revealing my smooth unblemished skin. Free from hickeys
and bite marks left behind by him. The yellow hue to my
shoulder and ankle is all that remains. Soon there will be no
sign at all that he was ever here. That he existed, that he
still exists. With that not at all gut wrenching thought, I tug
on one of the t-shirts I asked Brandon to grab me from his
house and crawl into bed waiting for the sleeping pills to
take away all the traces of my grief.

I’m not sure what wakes me, only that something does. The
moon peeks out from behind the trees outside my window
and I frown, rubbing at my eyes. Usually these things knock
me out well into the morning. It’s a weird feeling not being
able to trust your own mind if what you’re hearing or seeing
is a figment of your imagination put in place to protect you
from something far darker. My therapist had no shortage of
treatment plans and recovery goals set out for me. Maybe I
would be better by now if I hadn’t stopped going, but
somehow I doubt it. I groan at the stiffness in my back, my
hand instinctively reaching out for Peaches who I guess
jumped ship hours ago.
Glancing over at my phone, it’s 3am. I try to fight against
the bubble of anxiety that comes with being woken up from
a disorienting pill induced coma in the middle of the night.
Wiping the back of my hand across my dry lips, cringing at
the drool pooling around my mouth as I sit up in bed. My
eyes scan the dark room, lit only barely by the orange glow
of my nightlight that I don’t really remember turning on.
Probably did. I never forget it.
When my scan makes its way back to its starting point, the
nightlight on the dresser. I suck in a breath so sharp I hack
almost immediately. The coughing only made worse by the
dryness in my throat as I untangle myself from the sheets.
I…
My hands start to tremble as I walk to my mirror, my heart
ramming around in my chest like it's trying to make its way
free. Tears slip down my cheeks faster than I think they ever
have before. I can’t help the shaky smile that spreads across
my face nor the sob that leaves my throat as I run my
trembling fingers across the star scribbled in black ink on
the mirror above my dresser. The glint of a diamond ring
taped next to it reflects against the warm glow of the light.
Liam.

The end?
Read further for the optional epilogue ending.

OceanofPDF.com
 Layla by Eric Clapton
L ayla
It was an easy decision, to quit my job at Blinked. To leave
everything behind to follow him. Even though I’m the only
one that believes he’s alive. I do believe it, with every single
fiber of my being. I’m the only one that’s seen that familiar
figure lurking in the shadows, just outside of my line of
sight, the smell of him that lingers in my bedroom in the
morning. When I pass out after eating something, only to
wake up hours later… sore in all the right places. Obviously,
I’ve figured out the police won’t be any help, even if they
were… Liam would never see the light of day.
“Reporters are still posted outside Curran Enterprises
awaiting an official statement from the now acting volatile
COO after the death of his best friend and CEO founder of
the company, Liam Curran. Mr. Curran is suspected to have
murdered four people in the weeks leading up to his death
over a month ago, killed by a fire he set in his childhood
home after brutally taking the life of his mother, beloved
socialite and ruined heiress, Grace Curran. It’s been a month
since his death and investors are growing anxious. Police
have reported-
I slam my hand a little harder than necessary into the off
button. It hurts my palm as it plunges the car into silence.
Only the rattle of Peaches' collar fills the space as she
adjusts in the backseat. Since the fire, I’ve come to find that
silence is my worst enemy. Odd how something so serene
could be so violent. I take a steadying breath as the same
questions that have been filling my every thought consume
me.
Why wouldn’t he tell me what he was going to do?
Why more games?
Where is he?
How do I find him?
I have no fucking clue.
All I know is that Liam Curran is alive and as much as I’m
his… he’s mine. I will find him if it’s the last thing I do. He
wants to play… to test me. So I’ll give him what he needs,
I’ll play as long as this ends with him and I. I cringe when I
think of the look on Ava’s face when I showed her the star
and the unique oval diamond ring, held in place by a band
of thorns. I grip it tightly as it dangles from the delicate
silver chain on my neck. Glancing in the rear view mirror,
my home long disappeared from my sight. I don’t think she
believed me, honestly I don’t blame her, all things
considered. I did although quickly excuse myself when she
started talking to me like a crazy person.
Not trying to go for another mental health hold.
I don’t have any real clue where to start, I’ve dug through all
of his personal effects, paperwork, everything. Nothing
shows he planned to disappear, but then again, I doubt he’d
leave those where they could easily be found. He has five
properties, five different homes, three of which are in places
with nonextradition treaties with the US. It would’ve been so
much easier to talk with Brandon. I just… didn’t have the
heart for it. Not until I had proof more concrete than a ring
and crudely drawn shape on my mirror. I need to make one
more stop before I board his-… before I board my jet. Not
that I really think of all this stuff as mine. I’m just holding it
for him, I did nothing to earn any of it save for spreading my
legs. Which he apparently thought was enough. I wasn’t
there when he needed me, I couldn’t say the words he
needed to hear. I’ll make it right. I have to.
The trees bleed together and the lines on the road give way
to gravel as I barrel towards the large structure sat in the
middle of an otherwise empty field. My pulse quickens at
the thought of being back here, how many days and nights I
spent daydreaming of this place. The drive in he built
especially for me. My heart stills as a ding comes from the
cup holder of the car seconds after my feet hit the tall itchy
grass. I dip back into the car quickly, and it resumes
beating. The thumping in my chest is intense and frenzied,
as if I’d just ran a mile. The same thing it's done since he
left anytime my godforsaken phone would go off hoping to
see a text from an unknown number only to be crushed by a
wall of disappointment.
This time is different. I could feel it long before I unlocked
my phone.
A whimper leaves my chest as my hand flies to my mouth in
an attempt to stifle the broken sounds that follow it.
Unknown: Close your eyes.
I don’t hesitate, I’ll never hesitate again. Closing them
tightly, my chest aching as heavy footsteps crunch in the
grass behind me. The ache that lives deeper in my chest
demands I cry, scream, punch and kick as hard as I can but I
don’t because right now in this moment I want nothing more
than his skin against mine. The hair on my neck stands up
straight, sending goosebumps across my body as warm
breath tickles my ear. He’s standing so close my skin
prickles with static energy from his body despite layers of
clothes separating us. It's below freezing today, and yet I
feel like I’m standing on the surface of a falling star, hurtling
towards the ground with it. I lean into his broad chest as his
fingers lightly trace the outline of my jaw, running
insufferably slow to my lips where he slowly parts them.
“I missed you, little star.”
Moment ruined.
With that my eyes fly open and I spin, rearing back and
slapping him in the face so loudly birds scatter from a
nearby tree and my palm screams. Every emotion I’ve felt
since the fire merging until it turns to napalm rage
threatening the shell that contains it. He doesn’t react as his
face jerks to the side, but I don’t miss the tick in his jaw. “Go
on then Layla, get it out of your system.”
“You’re fucking insane! Who the fuck, no scratch that, why
in the absolute fuck would you do this to me?! How could
you do it?” He doesn’t so much as flinch as I scream, which
only angers me more. I so badly want a reaction from him,
something to prove he feels even one ounce of remorse.
God, I am so happy to see you.
His copper hair stands out beautifully against the tall wheat
grass that surrounds us. His athletic toned body back-lit by
the setting sun. It makes his lethal blue eyes seem even
more ethereal than usual. I keep my hands fisted and glued
to my side, despite how badly I want to run my fingers
through that tousled hair. “Do you have any idea how much
I’ve suffered?” My voice cracks as tears wet my face. “I
thought you left me, that you actually… died.”
There he is, my Liam behind the mask
His thick brows pull together, looking down at me as if it’s
only just occurred to him I would have believed it all. “Little
love I’m sorry, I didn’t want for you to get hurt. Once I
realized… how far it had all gone, I knew I couldn’t come
back. I couldn’t let them take me away from you, Layla.”
He reaches for me with a raised hand before I jerk away,
“Don’t touch me!” It’s a lie. I want it. I want his touch so
badly I feel as though I’m burning from the inside. My breath
catches in my throat. There it is, that look. That look I had
grown to enjoy coming from those dark brown eyes that
didn’t belong to him. It looks even more beautiful coming
from his deep blue ones. He grips the front of my coat,
jerking me into him, “I would love nothing more than to be
civil with you lítla ást but if you’ve grown accustomed to the
abuse, I’ll happily provide it. There is no you without me,
Layla. I told you that. I would have never let you live if I
planned to die.” He leans down, wiping the tears from my
cheeks before everything inside me breaks, allowing me to
crumble into him as I sob. His strong arms holding the last
parts of me together tightly. Acting as a barrier to the chilly
wind as we fall to the hard ground disappearing into the
grass.
“Are you here Liam? Are you really here?”
“I never left, baby. Not for a moment. It broke me… seeing
you like that. So helpless, please, out of all the things I’ve
done letting you think I was gone is the only one I regret. I
had to know if it was real… what you felt for me. I’m sorry,
little star.” He strokes my hair, kissing the top of my head.
“I’m sorry.” I want to speak but my words fail me, like
nothing I could say would possibly put a dent in the things
I’m feeling. It seems silly to even try.
“What are we going to do now?” I can’t help the small smile
that threatens my lips, the fact that I have him here with me
is enough, despite the hellish steps he took to get us here.
Peaches bumps into Liam trying to wedge between us, he
smiles at her hugging her tightly, “Well, for starters, I was
hoping you would marry me.”
“The world thinks you’re dead. If they find out you’re not,
you’ll be arrested.” As if he needs reminding. I don’t have a
second to prepare myself before his soft lips meet mine,
kissing me deeply.
“I’ve never much cared for being a Curran. I’ll go anywhere
Layla, be anyone as long as you’re beside me.” His intense
eyes force the rest of that small smile on my lips from
hiding.
“I’m yours. I’ve been yours since the very start.” His smile
turns blinding and I know it matches mine as he lifts us up
from the grass. Spinning me before cupping my face in his
hands. His thumbs lovingly stroking me. He kisses me again,
and it’s soft, so soft and filled with so much love I have no
choice but to melt into him. When he pulls back, he keeps
his forehead on mine, “I love you, little star.”
“I love you too.”
More than you’ll ever know.
Three Years Later, Liam
Click!
Mother of fucking God…
I lower my head against the lilac fabric of the seat, taking a
deep breath as the entirety of the universe tests what little
patience I have to spare after fucking with this cursed
contraption for the past half hour.
“Dude, the bubble is in the red, the bubble has to be in the
blue area. Positional asphyxiation is one of the leading
contributors of death in infants.”
“Brandon, if you don’t get the fuck out of here…” I warn,
debating throwing the whole fucking car seat at him and
buying a new one. “I’m the one that told you that, by the
way.”
“Are not. I read that in some of the dad books Ava sent with
me on my last trip down.”
Yes, Ava and the dad books. As if I hadn’t already been
reading enough on my own. I know she doesn’t trust me,
especially after the whole faking my death bit. I’m
determined to do this right. Every bit of it.
“Babe, just take a breather and let Brandon adjust the tilt.
You’ve been installing stuff all day.” I smile despite her
ridiculous request. This is my child, growing inside my little
star, my responsibility to install all of the annoying baby
junk that comes with it. I lean back out of the car to tell her
that, but my words get lost in my mouth when my eyes land
on her. Overcome by the intense swelling in my heart.
Layla’s amber-colored eyes are shining, the tropical sun
exposing their molten golden hues as it brings the flush out
on her soft skin. Her long curls are tied up in a messy bun as
her floral pattern sundress hugs her swelling stomach. She’s
fucking glowing, in every sense of the word.
“Yeah babe , let uncle Brandon handle it.” He mocks, wiping
sweat from his forehead, ruining my moment. He nearly dies
every trip to Cambodia, far from cut out for the hot muggy
climate. I take my little star's hand tightly in mine as I pull
her back towards the house, ignoring her slight protests.
The cool air inside feels too cold on my hot skin, but it’s a
welcome change either way. I’m not a fan of the heat either,
my ginger prowess ensuring I roast like a pig. She smiles
and chews her lip as I open up the vanity, pulling out
sunscreen she didn’t apply before coming outside, “Oops.”
Oops is right.
I don’t speak as I plant her in front of the full-length mirror
in our bedroom, making quick work of the tie on the
sundress that she can no longer reach herself. My cock
hardens as the dress drops, pooling at her feet. Her body
looks so goddamn beautiful like this. I’ll never get used to it.
I squirt some of the sunblock into my palm, not taking the
time to warm it like I normally do. “I leave you in charge of
putting on sunscreen once, little star, and you forget.” As
she gasps, I scold her, only being half serious. Watching me
intently as I smooth the cool cream over her bare shoulders,
a familiar heat flooding her eyes as they meet mine in the
mirror. Since Layla has gotten pregnant, her sex drive has
been nearly insatiable. Not that I’m complaining. I would
never complain about having more of her attention. Her
gaze returns to her own reflection as I add more sunscreen
to my palms working towards her stomach. I’ll never pass
up an opportunity to touch her.
Care for her. She is mine after all. It’s only right to do so.
Annoyance peaks in me but only briefly when she adjusts
her arms, holding them to hide the beautiful strips of lighter
skin that follow along her growing stomach. I lean down,
watching her in the mirror as I trail kisses along her neck, a
new flush taking up residence on her skin. I gently work the
sunscreen down her arms, moving them away from her
stretch marks before resting my hands on her stomach.
“You’re beautiful.” My heart stills and so do I, waiting for the
flutter of movement from inside her. A living representation
of our love for each other, our daughter. The fact that she’ll
be here in less than two months has me equal parts elated
and scared out of my fucking mind.
Can a man that’s done the things I can care for something
as pure and good as a child? Do I deserve her?
Layla would say yes, but I think she may be wrong.
Regardless, I will be the best dad in the entire world for
Flora, because it doesn’t matter anymore what I deserve.
She deserves everything we can give her and so much
more, a chance to break the cycle that created us. To do
things right. The love I feel for this unborn child is unlike
everything I’ve ever felt before. That love is reflected on her
mother. I quickly blink away the water that formed in my
eyes as she kicks beneath my hands.
“You’re going to be an amazing dad, Liam. I know it.”
I smile back at her, the woman that stole my heart, then
split it in two, gifting one half to the tiny little girl growing
inside her. The woman I destroyed everything for, “I love
you, little star.”
“I love you too. We both do.”
THE END

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 For the Love of Layla Playlist
Tonight You Belong To Me by Patience & Prudence
Burning Pile by Mother Mother
TRRST by Ic3Peak, Zillakami
I Feel Like I’m Drowning by Two Feet
I Can’t Handle Change by Roar
Stalkers Tango by Autoheart
Ocean Eyes by Billie Eilish
Saint Bernard by Lincoln
Yandere by Jazmin Bean
Twisted by MISSIO
Almost Easy by Avenged Sevenfold

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 Thank you for reading Liam and Layla’s fucked up
little story. Your support gives me the courage to
keep publishing all the stories that are closet to my
heart. As an independent author, your ratings and
reviews mean more than you’ll ever know. If you
enjoyed the book, please consider leaving your
thoughts in a review. I can’t wait to read them.

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 Meet the Author

A picture containing wall, person, indoor Description

automatically generated
Callie Moss is an indie author. She published her first
book Surviving December in January 2022. Callie has
overcome a lot after being diagnosed with Graves
Disease at the age of twenty-three. She’s a chronic
daydreamer, lover of dark gritty romance that makes
you clutch your pearls and forsake well rounded men.
She’s a stay-at-home mom, surrogate, and cosplayer
that likes to spend her time reading, writing, and
listening to true crime podcasts. She grew up in the
Midwest, where she always felt different from the
people around her. Never quite fitting in with the kids
at school. She was bullied for her macabre tastes.
Relentless imagination and her obsession with a
particular sparkling vampire. She found solace in
escapism and learned the profound effect a good
story can have on someone. She wants to give her
readers the same experience, creating worlds you
can lose yourself in, if only for a moment.
To keep up to date with Callie and her smutty
shenanigans, check out her socials on her author
website! For strictly book related updates, sneak
peaks, never before seen chapters and character art
sign up for her newsletter at
www.authorcalliemoss.com

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 More from Callie

Text Description automatically generated with medium

confidence
Surviving December is a standalone dark romance
thriller with a guaranteed Happily Ever After...

Elora and Jasper have always been together. It’s them

against the world. Bound together, souls marred by
pain only the other can balm. They pursued their love
of music together, forming an anonymous band.
Everything is exactly the way it should be....Until she
meets the mysterious and intense Lucian. Little does
she know he’s had his eye on her for a while and
nothing is going to get in his way. She finds herself
trapped between two dangerously possessive men,
both hell bent on one thing, her.

What happens when her traumatic past comes back

to haunt her? Will she ever feel safe again?

This book contains content that some readers may

find upsetting. Please read with caution. The
Surviving December manuscript was fully edited and
reformatted as of 5/22 to fix issues.

The Harbingers Gift is book one of the Harbingers Duet

series a dark supernatural bully romance...

I’ve never put much stock in things like fate, despite the
stories I grew up hearing. Fantastical tales and myths of
 three powerful goddesses, sisters. Spinning, weaving and
cutting the threads of fate. Grandpa told me that I was
special, that those sisters had a plan for me. That plan
started at Clavemore University, college to the one percent,
the elite. I barely graduated high-school, I don’t belong
there. I never wanted this. My feeble attempt at running
from fate was short lived.

So here I am, staring at the cold stone walls of a university

I'm too stupid to attend. Miles away from my home. My art.
My life. That’s when I see them, the Voclain twins. They’re
mysterious, dangerous, hauntingly beautiful and I think they
hate me. People call them the Belladonna Brothers, it
doesn’t take long to figure out why.

They don’t want me but they won’t let me go.

Tate – "I wish I could say I listened to Milo, that I hadn't

thought about her. That would be a lie, she's been the only
thing on my mind since yesterday. His too, he just won't
admit it."

Milo – "I don't meet her gaze, everything about her beautiful
face and azure eyes makes my blood boil. My body aches
for her, my palms twitch to touch her soft skin. It would be
so easy, to kill her. To rid ourselves of this problem in an
instant."
 From the author of The Harbingers Duet comes Pain &
Possession, a dark mafia romance with an end of the world
twist...

When a person faces death, they react in all sorts of ways,

some cry and grovel. Others sit back and wait for a peace
they’ve longed for their entire lives. I was ready to die when
I went home with him that night. I never expected to wake
up and face the consequences that come with sleeping with
a monster. He’s everything I hate, evil and cruel. Laced with
venom that infected me from the moment his hands
touched my skin. He brings out the worst in me, and I can’t
escape him. I’m a glutton for pain, and Olive Hayes is
exactly the kind of woman that can hurt me. -Noè

He’s the worst kind of man, a murderer. The kind of person

who doesn’t feel things. Not things like love anyway, but he
says he’s fallen for me. All because we thought the world
was ending. - Olive
 Pain & Possession is a dark romance. Some of the events
discussed and portrayed beyond this cover could be
upsetting for some readers. Always heed all courtesy
warnings and read with care. I’ll give you your happily ever
after, but you’ll have to get your hands dirty first.

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R ead further to check out the first chapter of
Surviving December….

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 Chapter One
S quelch, squelch, squelch…
The smell invades my nostrils, pennies like the ones daddy
keeps in a jar on his desk. The sight comes next. Mommy
painted crimson like the ornaments she used to decorate
our Christmas tree. Her body contorted at an impossible
angle.
That can't be comfortable…
I startle myself out of the memory that so ungraciously
forced itself to the front of my mind.
Not this. Not here.
My hand juts out, blindly searching for something to ground
me. Searching for him. I feel him tense beside me, quickly
realizing what's going on. He grabs my hand gently,
uncurling the fingers of my clinched fist and placing my
palm over his heart.
Thump, thump, thump.
I'm okay, everything is okay.
As my breathing returns to normal, I scan the room. Thank
God nobody noticed. It's the most mundane things that set
off the flashbacks. The smell of copper, certain sounds, that
specific shade of red… PTSD is a bitch.
"Kuznetsov?" A plump middle-aged woman calls our name,
breaking my train of thought. Glancing up from the yellow
tinted tile flooring, I meet Jasper's cognac-colored eyes.
There's that look again, sympathy.
He tries to mask it and fails miserably. I hate it when they
look at me like that. I don't need their pity; I don't want to
be this broken thing. Nothing reminds me more of what I am
than that damn look. Flashing me his trademark lazy smile,
he stands, pulling me along behind him. He walks to the
lady waiting by the door. She looks somewhere between
annoyed and confused. Only now do I notice her Winnie the
Pooh themed scrubs.
Jesus Christ.
"Right this way, please." She says, sidestepping and
motioning us into one of the small curtained off rooms.
Taking a deep breath, I lower myself into the bleach scented
chair.
At least you know it's clean…ish.
It's just a little blood, I'll be fine. Plus, if I leave again
Anatoly will blow a gasket. My heart immediately warms at
the thought of the older man. He's been our… what? Butler,
caretaker, nursemaid? Ever since we were adopted. He's
grumpy, but he loves us, even though he insists he doesn't
make enough to babysit. I'm sure if the money ran out, he'd
stick around. He'll gladly die before admitting it though.
"Okay sweetheart, first and last name and your birthdate
please." She asks cheerfully, all earlier signs of annoyance
gone. "Elora Kuznetsov, December 13th, 1998." She
continues jotting things down on her computer. Taking
breaks to glance up at Jasper from underneath her lashes.
Ma'am you're old enough to be his mother, stop.
I roll my eyes to the back of my head so hard I fear they'll
get stuck. Earning myself a quiet chuckle from the stud
himself. Can't really blame her, though. He is unnervingly
handsome. His shaggy, dirty blonde hair always skillfully
tousled, his facial features that somehow manage the
perfect blend of delicate and ruggish. Lest we forget those
eyes. I've spent the better part of my life lost in them and it
will never be enough.
The golden retriever boy vibes are strong.
"We're just taking three tubes today; do you have an arm
you prefer?" I shake my head, trying to put myself a million
miles away from the fact that I'm about to have blood
drawn. Jasper lets go of my hand, reaching down to pull up
my left sleeve, giving me a reassuring smile before turning
his attention to the nurse. "She's a little uneasy around
blood." He says softly.
"I've been doing this for fifteen years, sweetheart. You're in
excellent hands." She responds proudly. Comforting me with
a brief squeeze on the shoulder before finishing setting up.
The alcohol wipe is cold on my skin, the only warning of
what's coming. It's not the stick that bothers me, it's not
even the needle. It's that damn color… I look up, meeting
Jasper's eyes as she ties my arm off, searching for the vein.
"Ready sweetheart?"
No…
Clink. The sound of something hitting the floor forces my
eyes down on instinct. Stick.
Oh fuck me, I need to get out of-
My panic is interrupted as Jasper slides his strong, calloused
hand around the back of my neck. Applying enough
pressure to get my attention and turn my head back up to
him. The tips of his fingers forever marred from countless
hours playing the guitar. He begins gently running his rough
fingers up and down over the pulse point in my neck. I don't
know how much time has passed and I don't care. He keeps
me safe, grounded. With him, I can be brave.
"Last one sweetheart!" The nurse announces, pulling my
attention back to the matter at hand.
You are okay. Jasper is right here. You need to chill the fuck
out. You're twenty-three years old, for Christ's sake. Grow a
pair.
"All done! See, that wasn't so bad, was it?" I want to look
down, but Jasper tightens his grip on the back of my neck.
Letting me know it's not safe to look yet. His eyes leave
mine for the briefest second, making sure all traces of blood
are cleaned up no doubt. He leans down, lightly kissing the
tip of my nose, keeping our faces impossibly close. "Coast is
clear, little dove." His tenor voice reaching me in a place
only he can.
"Keep the wrapping on for at least two hours. Your test
results should be in by the end of the day. You can take all
the time you need." The nurse says before quickly slipping
out of the cramped space. Jasper pulls me from the chair,
tucking me under his arm before bending to pick up my
discarded hobo bag from the seat by the door. "Shall I hunt
her down for a sucker and a princess sticker?" He asks
playfully. I chuckle and shove him away, grabbing his hand
instead. "You would if I asked you to." I respond, side eyeing
him.
"You aren't wrong."
We live in Seattle, so naturally by the time we go to leave,
it's pouring. I can't help but giggle as I stand under the
carport watching Jasper race towards the car as if he can
outmaneuver the individual drops. He hates the rain; I love
it. There's something beautifully cathartic about watching
the world drench itself, as if it's instinctually trying to wash
away the grime we've covered it with. I quickly pull out my
phone as a lyric pops into my head. If I stand in the rain, will
it wash away all the things I could never say?
Ugh, not great.
A deep voice startles me. "Waiting for someone?" I look up
at the source of the voice, immediately taking a step back.
Global pandemic buddy, so much for six feet apart.
"Yeah, my friend is getting his car." He doesn't attempt to
hide his disdain as he glances towards the parking lot.
What the fuck was that about?
"Lucian Holmes," He says extending his hand, "Nice to meet
you."
Only then do I take notice of the absolute god of a man
standing beside me. His piercing blue eyes, a beautifully
dark shade of indigo, make it damn near impossible to form
coherent thought. His shoulder length black hair wet from
the rain, so dark it almost appears blue under the cheap
florescent lighting. God fuck, he's tall. You can tell he's
attractive even underneath the mask he's wearing. "Ugh…,"
Christ Elora, get it together.
"Elora Kuznetsov, nice to meet you too." I take his hand. It's
much warmer than I expected, considering he obviously just
came from outside.
Is that a neck tattoo?
A dangerous look flashes across his eyes as he speaks, "I've-
"
I hear Jasper clear his throat before it even registers that
he's standing behind me. "We're holding up the line, little
dove." His tone darker than normal, he places a hand on my
shoulder, breaking whatever spell Lucian had me under. I
quickly release the hand I didn't even realize I was still
holding. I look up to meet Jasper's eyes, the carefree, lazy
expression the usually carry replaced by something much
darker, possessive even. I hate when he gets like this.
No you don't Elora.
Neither of them bother to look at me, both seeming far
more content to continue glaring at one another. Mutually
ready to drop their pants and compare dick sizes.
Okay… time to go.
"Jasper." I say firmly, putting my hand over the one still
gripping my shoulder a little too tight for comfort. He looks
down at me with a lazy smile that doesn't reach his eyes.
Without another word, he scoops me up, throwing me over
his shoulder like a sack of potatoes and walking towards the
car. I let loose a very unladylike burst of giggles, ending with
a snort. I feel my cheeks heat. Surely we're far enough away
that he didn't hear that…
Excuse me, why do you care? …. why indeed?
I lift my head in time to see a very amused looking Lucian,
confirming he did in fact hear the snort. I let my neck go
slack and bury my face in Jasper's back.
It's not like you'll be seeing him again.
I swallow the note of disappointment I feel at the thought. A
very soaked Jasper sits me in the passenger seat of his 86
Firebird, leaning across me to buckle my seatbelt.
Unsurprisingly, he's already laid a towel down on the driver
side as to not sully the leather. He loves this car almost as
much as me, almost.
Stupid car.
He shuts my door and walks around to the other side as I
steal a final glance at the clinic's entrance, still unnerved by
the whole weird as shit encounter. There stands Lucian
where we left him. His indigo eyes burning with twin flames
looking particularly enraged right now, his fists clench as I
stare out of the rain-soaked window.
Yeah, you aren't at all ominous, are ya, bud?
~ Lucian ~
I feel bile rise in my throat as he carries Elora to his car, his
hand lightly gripping her pert ass. I force myself to swallow
it down and take a deep breath.
You can't risk outing yourself here. It'll fuck everything up.
My anger only expands as he turns to give me another
glance before sliding into the car. The pompous smirk on the
little cunt's face is enough to make me feel downright
homicidal. I wait until they pull far enough out of the parking
lot to walk to my car. There's no reason for me to be here. I
only came for her, and it was so worth it. Seeing her up
close in person was everything I hoped it would be. She's
got that raw, unfiltered, awe-inspiring beauty. The kind that
starts wars, pits friends against each other and divides
nations. I'd do it all for her, all for Elora. I've spent the past
four years hunting her down. It was her music I fell in love
with first. Her voice every bit as beautiful as the rest of her.
As much as I hate to admit it, the guard dog's voice isn't
bad either. Granted, most of the music they release is her
solos. They still put out far too many love filled duets for my
liking.
They sound great together and you know it…I'll rip out his
vocal cords.
They did an exemplary job staying anonymous with their
music. Holding companies, offshore accounts, fake
properties all bought under equally fake names. One
obscenely generous donation to an orphanage in Colorado.
All the shady anonymity undoubtedly orchestrated by their
notoriously hard to pin down adoptive father, Vladimir
Kuznetsov. Russian immigrant in the country legally since he
was twenty-nine. An accomplished astrophysicist/real estate
mogul with suspected ties to the Russian mafia. Hiding
seems to be a given with this unconventional little family.
No more. There's nowhere you can go where I can't find you,
Elora. Nothing will keep me from you. I've never felt a
longing like this before, and I don't plan to for much longer.
You need to play this smart, Lucian.
The guard dog is going to be a problem. Jasper Kuznetsov, if
he had been a real brother to her, that wouldn't be as much
of a problem, I could deal. He clearly isn't and if nothing
else, that sickening little display he put on made it obvious
he doesn't see her as a sister.
But how do you feel flower?
They were raised together after being housed at the same
orphanage when they were small children. Jasper first, then
my sweet Elora a few years later. I had my associates dig up
the where, but the why is more elusive. Naturally, all
records of the twos previous lives were destroyed the
moment Vladimir Kuznetsov set his eyes on the children. A
grunt of mine intercepted their trash a month ago for DNA
samples to further confirm they aren't siblings.
Not that it would've deterred you from her, but it certainly
would've taken a tad longer to wrap my mind around.
As much as I hate going in without the full picture, I'm
quickly running out of patience. I need to be with Elora. No
longer satisfied watching her from the shadows.
My heart longs for you flower, could you tell?

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