Durability (The LockDown Series Book 3) (20 page)

“Sorry.” I apologise instinctively as though he has some strange power over me. It is fucking strange, I don’t apologise to anyone, well other than Abbi, but she has a firm fucking grip on my nuts that I know she won’t let go of until I do as she asks. Funny thing, being the Dominant one out of us, and in the bedroom she succumbs to my every need and desire, but outside I am like a fucking lapdog to her, at her beck and call, wanting to please her.

“Good, now, where do you want to go from here? You going to pull your head out of your arse and do as you’re goddamn told or am I dropping you off home where you will continue to ruin the best thing that ever happened to you?” I look at him intently, is he stupid? Of course I want to change, otherwise I would never have left my wife in such a vital time of her life.

I don’t need to answer; he sees it spread plainly across my face. “Good choice. Now we need to get to the route of your obsession. Mine's simple, I grew up with violence, saw enough bloodshed for it to be normal. I had so much hate for the world that feeling that fading of a life brought the greatest pleasure to me, it brings me power to make me feel like I am the boss in this world. I suppose my sexually dominant behaviour also stems from there too,” he admits to me and I relate to him, because from as early as I can remember, my father taught me there is no good on this earth, only hate, greed and violence.

I breathe heavily and then sigh, flopping to the floor and leaning my back against the plastered walls of the shed we’ve acquired for the past week.

“Kid, you have to let go of the past to even have a glimpse of a future. You will never truly rid yourself of this feeling, these demons, they’ll always be there just as any addiction is, but you can learn to control it and only, and I mean ONLY EVER KILL THE ONES WHO DESERVE TO DIE. Because believe me, there are plenty of them in this world. Aim for them, go for all those fuckers. Your job gives you enough opportunity to fulfil the need.” I nod and rest my head back against the wall.

I wipe my hands over my face, ridding myself of the sweat that has built up from fighting.

“It’s hard, you know. Trying to live as everyone else expects me to. Being told to calm myself when I’m on a job, to stop with the punches or to not cut someone so much. But, no one understands it, they don’t understand that I need to do that, to be able to go home sated and in control, I need to end somebody that way. It’s still there, after all the exercises you’ve taught me this week the need is still as strong and potent, I fear it will never leave me, that I am doomed and cursed to be alone, without the love of my family.” It is hard not to cry at that thought; losing Abbi will be the hardest thing yet. I have to use her as my muse, use her as my inspiration to better myself, because if I lose her, I might as well lose every drop of my humanity entirely.

“I know kid, trust me I get it. It still gets me, every now and then I let lose, let the beast out, but I reel him back in and get him in the cage before he stays out. It’s okay to fall back, we just have to know when to grasp the tethers of our real lives and pull ourselves back to solid ground. To be in control,” he advises me and I look to him like he is a guru or some shit.

“What if I don’t want to, what if I don’t want to be in control anymore? The pressure is too much. I can’t handle being the one everyone needs all the time, but no one ever being there to pick me up when I’m crumbling before them.” It has always been that way. I have always been the stupid naive kid who looks after everyone, even my siblings. I took beating after beating to save their arses, but no one, not even my own family were there for me when I lost everything. I was exiled like a piece of shit to grieve by myself.

“Leighton, it’s okay to drop the barriers. You don’t always have to be the one in control; there are others there to be strong for you. Let yourself go, let it out, and let yourself feel a little freedom.” He stands to his feet, dusting his trousers off as he does. “I’ve got an idea, but you’ll have to trust me okay? I think this might help. It always has done for the people I witness using it.” How many people has he helped to rehabilitate from their psycho lives?

I look at him once again with that questioning look on my face. “Trust me Leighton, I’ll make you forget, I’ll make it go away, even if just for a little while.” I take his outstretched palm, his strong body pulling me from the cold concrete floor.

Here goes nothing
I tell myself as I follow his body through the building to his car.

“In you get,” he instructs me, as he points to his car.

“Where we going?” I ask him as I shuffle my big frame into the seat.

“You’ll see, but you have to trust me ok
ay?” I am becoming concerned with all the talk of trusting him, what is he planning to do?

I soon catch on to his plan as he pulls into the car park of the club, turning the ignition off and shutting the lights off.

“I think it’s time you played the way you need to,” he tells me bluntly, and the thought of being in there excites me, well that is before the menacing darkened look to his eyes.

Everyday has been the same, the same sadness, the same dreary outlook on my life, and the same questions from my beautiful son. “Where’s dad? When’s dad coming back?” There is only so many times I can say 'he will be back', 'he is away for work'. I hate lying to him and seeing the disappointment on his face as he continues to stare aimlessly out of the windows, awaiting the arrival of his father. He has been gone for two weeks, fourteen horrible nights since Leighton has walked away, his eyes showing the hurt he felt but his face blanking everything.

My heart is shattered and my resolve worse. I want him, however he comes. He doesn’t seem to understand I know the man he is, I knew it all and accepted it all when I married him. I understand the hunger and thirst he has, it is evident for anyone to see, but I accept it and cherish him for his strength and perseverance to be a better man.

“You can't continue like this Abbi,” my best friend tells me, rubbing her almost bursting stomach. I feel sorry for her, knowing the discomfort she is experiencing right now. Even at this very same time in my pregnancy, I was hot and achy, but with two babies inside of her, she has to feel like hell. She is only a month and a bit away from her due date and I am assured that she deserves a medal of bravery after carrying them and putting up with the twins’ childlike behaviour in addition.

“Like what?” I ask sadly, leaning on my hands as I stare at the bottle of his whisky on the counter. I so badly want to open it up and smell it, maybe to just feel the comfort of my husband and his usual alluring scent around me. Whisky has always reminded me of him, remembering him the very first time we went for dinner.

He had taken me to his restaurant, mere hours after rescuing me. I watched in awe as he sipped at his scotch, so elegant yet masculine. I knew, even then, I was hooked on him, I had to have him and prove I could once again love something.

“You look drained. I can't make you laugh, you haven’t smiled since your wedding, Abbi. What can I do to help you?” she pleads. I can see the pain it is causing her to have to witness the depression I am suffering with Leighton’s absence. No one can understand the heartbreak I’m suffering and I wouldn’t want them ever to have to suffer like this.

“Bring him back. I think, no matter what others say, he is the only way I will be ok. He is me, Maria. He is what runs me and keeps me afloat. I feel sunken right now. If I didn’t have Mel or Joe here, I don't think I would be surviving this at all.”

“We are all trying to find him, sweetheart. No matter how pissed I am with him, I want him back too. I can see how dead you are without him. Plus, the kids are missing their dad.”

I smile at her, weakly, my every thought evident in it. I am at my wits end, waiting day in day out for him to come back to me. I have so much going on, with my arm still not working or even attempting to move. I have been attending my Physio appointments, but with no progress so far it is bringing me further down into the uncontrollable spiral of depression. The very thought of never having the use of my arm again, takes me from just under the surface that is drowning me, to the very bottom of the sea, no visible light at the once shimmering surface.

“Go to bed, Abbi. It’s late and you need your energy. I’ll keep an ear out for the little-uns.
I'm going to get the boys to look after the kids tomorrow and Georgia and I are going to take you out. You need some time for yourself. Plus, what better way to lure your man back than a makeover. He’ll never know what hit him.

“That could be nice.” I frown a little, running my fingers through my dry hair. Weeks of not taking care of myself has been harsh on my once silky blonde locks. It is beginning to once again resemble the mess it had been on the streets, before I met Leighton. It makes me sad to know he is gone, after everything he has done for me.

“No could be, it will be. I'm dying for some relaxation. I never get any of it at the moment. The twins are mad, both sets. Brad and Luke are running havoc trying to find Leighton and these two,” she points to her belly, “are trying their best to kill me.”

I finally laugh, just a little, at her comment. I miss being pregnant almost as much as I miss my husband. The feeling is unlike anything I have experienced. I want more than anything for Leighton to be home beside me, for us to continue our lives the way we were. I want to have another baby and to be the best damn mother I can be, even if my arm continues to be paralysed, I will give one hundred fifty percent
into being a parent. Just knowing Leighton could have fathered another child, with Debbie, gives me something to look forward to. I am a good mum to Joe and plan on being one to his new child if it is his. If not, then I will be an awesome auntie to it.

“That’s a nice thing to hear, Abigail Lock. Continue with it. Your life will get better, I’ll make sure it does. Now, get off to bed, have a bath if you like. We are going shopping tomorrow and making you feel better.” I nod simply, reaching my arms around Maria to give her a cuddle.

I leave the room, heading up the large staircase to our room. I haven’t stayed in it since he left, I’ve been sleeping in Melissa’s nursery or Joe’s room, holding him in bed just to feel closer to my husband, but I feel a little more confident that I will one day see his beautiful face again.

I skip a bath, feeling tiredness hit me. I crash against my pillow for the first time in weeks. The comfort of it is mesmerising, swallowing me whole and spitting me out in a world of relaxation.

Blackness. It consumes me. I scream for him, trying to find my way to him, but he’s gone. He’s been dragged under the pitch black depths, a gloomy abyss that is drowning him in his own thoughts.

I am there. I assure him I'm there and I’ll help, but he doesn’t hear. He clings to the edge, trying his hardest to stay above the surface but it’s no use, he’s slipping and I can't stop him. “Leighton,” I shout, on my knees to grab him. My hand pushes through the invisible force field, trying to cling to his slipping hand. “You have to stay, don't leave me,” I scream again, my head diving beneath the black endlessness, trying to find his hand.

“Just let me go, I'm a lost cause, Abigail. I’ll only end up hurting you,” he tells me, smiling sadly before he lets go of the edge.

“LEIGHTON!” I scream, terrified, he’s lost and I can't get him.

I watch as his large body is consumed by the dark waters, slowly sinking to a void I cannot see the end of. He is gone, he is lost, his soul is dead.

A maniacal laugh sounds around me, my head turning left and right to find it. It makes my entire body shake in anxiety and fright. I know the noise, I hear it in my dreams. It consumes me, takes over any happiness I have in my life. The memories, the dark hellish surrounding are caving in around me. The walls are collapsing onto me, weighing me down. He’s near, I can feel him, I can smell him, my body is in tune to every sound of his shoes, of his voice.

“You are always mine, Abigail.” He cackles as I back up, pulling into myself like a baby in a womb.