Branded(9)

My hands shake with the need to pick up the phone and call DJ, ask him to come over so I can have another turn, tasting, licking and sucking. I want stroke his cock, feel him thrusting inside of me and see the look on his face when he comes. He only let me have him in my mouth for a few minutes before he dragged me up from the floor and tossed me on the bed.

I stand up from my chair so quickly that it almost topples over. I still have an hour and a half left on my shift, but I don’t care. Suzy can handle things in my absence. If I don’t get out of here now, I’ll make yet another mistake and DJ will see right through me. I can’t let that happen.

Grabbing my purse from the top drawer of my desk, I race out of my office and down the hall, shouting to Suzy as I go that something came up and I have to leave. I barely keep my car under the speed limit as I drive home, swerving around slow drivers and gunning it through yellow lights. I shouldn’t go home, there’s too much temptation in that house. If I look at the bed I’ll remember every bad decision I made that night and every time I shouted his name as I came. If I look at the nightstand, I’ll think about the sweet relief lying right inside the top drawer, calling my name. Home is the last place I should be, but home is the only place I can go right now. I would never burden Finnley with my problems, and even I know that going to a bar alone for a few drinks right now would only end in disaster.

I’ll take a bath. I’ll fill up my Jacuzzi tub with hot water and bubbles and, for a few moments, I’ll pretend that I’m just a normal woman who had a one-night-stand and has a bright future filled with possibilities ahead of her, instead of a fucked-in-the-head person who needs to harm herself simply to feel alive.

I think about the smell of vanilla and lavender bubbles instead of cigarette smoke and burning flesh as I walk up to my front porch. A note taped to the front door gives me pause and I rip it from the wood, tucking it under my arm so I can unlock the front door. Once I’m inside, I toss my purse to the couch and lean back against the door, pulling the note out from under my arm and tearing it open. Finnley sent me a text earlier saying she had a surprise for me and I smile to myself, wondering what she’s up to and when she resorted to leaving me notes like we were still in high school.

Inside the envelope is a small card with the words Thinking of You! printed amongst a bouquet of pink and purple flowers. I shake my head and laugh to myself as I flip open the card. I choke on the laugh and gasp when I see the words printed inside, the messy block lettering nothing like Finnley’s girly script.

My heart starts thundering in my chest and my palms sweat. I read the words over and over until I have them memorized and still, I don’t understand. Someone knows. Someone saw. How in the hell could this have happened? Is this some kind of sick joke? For a second, I wonder if DJ did it to try and be funny, but I immediately dismiss that thought. He wouldn’t do this. As much as he irritates me, he’s not the type of man to sink to this level of cruelty.

The note drops from my hands, fluttering to the floor at my feet. There’s a whooshing sound in my ears that grows louder and louder until I can’t even hear the ticking of the clock hanging on the wall right next to me or the sound of my ragged breaths. My skin itches and I clench my hands into fists at my sides to stop from clawing my fingernails down my arms to give myself some measure of relief. There’s only one thing that will help me now, only one thing that will stop the ringing in my ears and the put an end to the tightness in my skin.

I push myself away from the front door and walk blindly through my living room and down the hall to my bedroom. My senses are overwhelmed the minute I walk in the room, the sights and sounds and smells coming back to me with a force that has my hands shaking so hard by the time I pull open the drawer of my nightstand that I drop the lighter and the package of Marlboro Smooths three times before I get them out.

I hold the cigarette between my lips, flick the lighter and stare mesmerized at the flame as I inhale enough drags to make the tip of the cigarette glow bright orange. As I exhale a lungful of smoke, I quickly strip off my hospital scrubs and underwear with one hand and let my body sink to the edge of the bed.

Closing my eyes, I bring the burning tip to my hip and breathe easy for the first time this afternoon.

I want the pain.

I deserve the pain.

I can’t breathe without the pain.





Thwack-thwack-thwack.

The sound of my fists beating the shit out of the heavy bag is almost louder than the music blaring through the speakers. Nothing like a little Rob Zombie to get me even more fired up than I already am. Sweat drips down my back as I shuffle back and forth on the balls of my feet, delivering one blow after another to the bag until I feel my knuckles start to swell and my arms threaten to fall off my body.