beautifully broken:if i break 3(35)

“Nooo,” she moans into my mouth and breaks away.

“Not until the movie's over,” she giggles, quickly turning away from me but she’s close enough I can change her mind. I slip my hands underneath her t-shirt and drag my fingers across her stomach. She takes my hand in hers, stopping my path. I grunt.

“I know what you’re trying to do,” she giggles and I stop and look at her and think about this moment. I could be like this with her…forever. Except forever isn’t really an option with me, unless this medicine works that Helen’s team has been working on. Since I’m volunteering to be the first guinea pig it’s all a toss-up, but when I look at her…the risk is worth the reward.

You should just tell her.

Helen’s voice echoes in my head. I can’t just tell her—for one, she probably wouldn’t believe me, and if she did, it would change everything.

She’s mine, the one good thing in my life and I’m not going to share her. Everything comes easy for him, life just hands itself over to him and when it doesn’t, he gives up and leaves me to deal with the hard part. I have to fight for what I get, nothing comes easy.

Finding Clay with as much money as I’ve spent should be easy but it’s been a nightmare, him slipping out of my grasp as soon as I have him. He’s the last thing I need to put to bed. After he’s done, maybe, just maybe, things will be easy and I can have a chance at something with Lauren. Before her I never wanted a permanent fixture in my life, now I need it more than anything.

I won’t let it go.





Lauren



I feel like a clock is running, each second that passes causes a crack to appear in an already fragile glass that’s barely holding itself together. I hoped coming back to Madison would provide some time of normalcy, some form of comfort, but right now it feels constricting, like I’m trapped, unable to escape and everything is closing in. My visit with Aidan didn’t yield any information and just made me feel as if I’m strapped next to a bomb that’s going to blow, but I can’t leave because the man I love is strapped in a chair next to it…

I hate all of this, secrets and lies. I thought I was moving past that but I was wrong. I was wrong about Cal opening up to me. I was wrong about thinking Chris would be more understanding of this situation with Cal and I was wrong to think that I could handle this on my own, that I could make this work. Right now it seems like nothing is okay.

Everything is on the brink of chaos. My head won’t stop pounding, anxiety has planted itself in my chest and I feel like I’m constantly in a marathon, but I can’t appear that way. I have to appear strong, I have to appear hopeful, that I haven’t given up, that things are looking up from here, but in reality I’m barely holding on. So many conflicting emotions coursing through me, battling with each other until I’m exhausted, tired and starting to feel numb.

I try to pull some version of myself together as I sit outside the Crestfield mansion. It’s an extremely large estate, enough to have about eight regular sized homes on it. Helen’s in there, waiting on me. I was excited about seeing her, someone who could possibly help me to understand the reality of this, but now I feel like I’m going to see a doctor who holds my life in her hands. When I arrive at the door I’m greeted by one of the housekeepers. She leads me to the second floor, sun seeping through the house, extravagant paintings on the wall. The décor doesn’t seem to fit Helen or Dexter at all. It feels as if we’ve been walking forever through the house, well mansion, this is a mansion.

When we reach our destination the housekeeper knocks on the door and introduces me. It’s all so formal and a bit intimidating. Helen calls for us to come in. The room is large and, of course, all white and neutral colors. Helen is sitting behind a white desk that stretches out across one corner of the room. There are two big beige arm chairs in front of the desk and a fire place adjacent. The other side of the room seems more for pleasure with a large television mounted on the wall and a matching white sofa sprawled out in front of it. The carpet is white with not one blemish on it. It’s modern and completely different from the rest of the house.

“Lauren,” she greets me. Her tone is warm and welcoming. She looks different with her hair half up and the rest down. She’s wearing a large button up that falls over her statuesque frame and black tights underneath.

“Could you bring up a pitcher of lemon water, Grace?” Helen asks, coming from behind her desk.

“Of course Mrs. Crestfield,” the housekeeper says before leaving the room.