Broken Lovers

Chapter 10

Cynthia was right. I was being unfair to Liam.

I hadn't heard from my blackmailer for just over two weeks. I kept checking my phone, but nada. I’d concocted this weird idea that he’d uncover his face, tell me it had all been a sick perverted game, but now he liked me and wanted to give us a chance. But how could I say that about a person I’d never seen? It had to be lust because the way my body reacted when we touched sent sparks zinging through my every pore. I wanted to tell Mom about it, but couldn’t, as I didn't want to worry her. The doctor had said that her state of mind would play a big role in the therapy she was undergoing. One of the reasons I’d stayed with Liam was the fact that with him I had a stable job, a nice apartment, a car, and a person to rely on, which gave me peace of mind, but the blackmailer was the person who made my heart pound.

I went home early that day. I didn't want to be near Liam, Cynthia or anyone. I wanted to get back to my bedroom and hide there. My phone rang and I panicked when I saw the name of Mom's doctor flash onto my screen. He needed to see me.

It was very late when I eventually arrived back at the apartment. The doctor’s news hadn’t been good, and I’d had to put on extra makeup to cover the redness around my eyes. I’d missed calls from Mom and Liam, and one text message from him. I hugged my mom, who was very worried, and I apologized over and over, but I couldn't hold my tears. I made up a story of how I’d fought with Liam and had just been driving around the city, thinking. There was no way I could tell her that she had terminal cancer and had a maximum of two months to live. I choked because I was crying so hard, and she ended up comforting me! To ease her worries, I told her that I’d resolve matters with Liam.

I also called Liam to apologize for ignoring his calls.

"What's wrong? Your voice sounds croaky. Have you been crying?"

"I’m fine. I’m just tired."

"Where have you been?”

I told him I’d been driving around and thinking.

“Just driving around?"

"What's wrong with that? I just wanted to think."

"About?"

"Stop pushing me, Liam. Stop asking how and what and why. Aren’t I allowed to have a bad day?"

"Sorry, baby. I’m just trying to help you."

"You can't this time."

"Okay. You’re obviously not in the mood to talk, and I don’t want to fight, so I’m going to hang up now. If you change your mind and want to tell me about it, call me. I’m always here for you."

The silence of the cut line relieved me, but not for long. An incoming text from Joanna read:

Tomorrow @ 8 p.m.

For how long would this continue? What if one day the blackmailer decided to make his threat a reality? My heart started thumping. I didn't want him to destroy me, at least, not before Mom… I hated the word… died. I preferred to think that she would never have to know and that by the time it all blew up, she’d be in a better place.

*****

I was shaking like a leaf. He opened the door, and I rushed in, abruptly bumping into him. I burst into tears, crying in huge sobs as I clung on to his body. He didn't attempt to touch me; in fact, just the opposite. But as he sensed my real distress, he remained still.

"My mother’s dying." I wailed. I felt his breathing change and his body tense.

"We all have to die one day. Now perhaps you’ll understand how it feels to lose a loved one."

I pushed myself away from him. He didn't care. He had no warm feelings towards me, and I had to understand that. How could I have been so stupid to have ever thought he’d be concerned about my welfare and comfort me? I fumbled for my keys in my purse, but my hands were trembling too much to locate them. I had to leave.

"You can't drive. Take a seat."

"No, I am leaving," I yelled. He ripped my purse away.

"I said you can't drive.” He led me to the sofa and pushed me down. “Stay here!” He disappeared for a few minutes, returning with a mug of coffee.

"Thank you," I said, taking it from him.

"I don't want dirt on my hands."

"What do you mean?"

"You’re very upset. I don't want you to crash because of me. I don't want you to die… at least, not before you pay."

I dropped the mug to the floor, stood up and ran towards the light switch. I heard a faint clicking sound, but there was no light. There was no bulb. I rapidly pressed the switch another dozen times in the forlorn hope that light would magically appear.  

"You’re walking a fine line," the blackmailer said angrily.

"Who are you?" I yelled at him. "Since you came into my life, it's been just one long horrible  rollercoaster!"

"You came into my life."

"I don't understand."

"You don't need to. Leave!"

"That's what I intend to do," I said, reaching for my bag. As it was dark, I slipped on the spilled coffee and fell, the shards of pottery ripping my hands and knees. I gasped and cried in pain. The blackmailer pulled me up and sat me on the sofa before leaving the room and returning with some alcohol. He knew every inch of the place and could walk about in the dark with no problem. He applied the alcohol to my cuts and grazes, making me jump. I started crying again. "I’m so confused,” I sniffed. “I don't know what’s going on with me. I feel I’m losing my mind." The blackmailer didn't speak. "Please say something." I reached for him, but he moved and didn't let me touch him.

"Kiss me," I pleaded, trying to find his face in the dark. "I want to feel your lips. I want to feel you. Kiss me."

He stood up. "Leave!" His usual tone had returned. No emotion. Nothing. I leapt up and grabbed at him, pressing my lips to his. As I tried to force my tongue into his mouth, he pushed me away and stepped back "I’m not your boyfriend. This is not a relationship. This is not the place for you to cry, to share, to ask or to demand. You come here solely for my pleasure. You are just a worthless piece of f**k meat. You do what I say. And I’m telling you to leave. And next time you come here, you’ll bring me a copy of the defense for Benjamin, including all the evidence."

"Whaaaat?"

"It’s quite simple,” he said. “Tomorrow, you’ll go to the room where the cases and evidence are kept. You’ll make copies of everything and bring them here to me. You’ll keep your phone with you, video recording from the moment you enter till the moment leave, and you’ll show it to me when you come back here."

 Then he marched me out of the door.