As she stands I catch a flash of anger in her eyes. A look that verges on disrespectful and it begs me to take her. I want to push her onto the bed and punish her.
But I can’t. In this moment, I have the strength to send her away. And I need to do it now before I lose it. I watch her as she opens the dresser drawer, the sound of it opening is the only noise in the room. I’m on edge and holding on by a thread as she dresses with her eyes shining with tears. But she doesn’t question me. She pulls on her jeans and I grip onto the door, closing my eyes. Hating that I’m doing this. Hating myself and that I’m not good enough to keep her.
“Master?” she asks me.
It breaks my fucking heart to hear her call me that. For the last time.
“Yes?” I answer as she opens a drawer and slips on the clothes she brought here. Simple jeans and a tank top.
“Why are you doing this?” she asks and the anger slips, replaced with something worse. Sadness. She pulls a sweater over her tank top, not looking me in the eyes. “I’m sorry, Master.
It hurts to see her like this. But it’s for her own good.
I ignore her question. I ignore her apology.
“You can go now. I’ll have your things sent to your place tomorrow.”
Katia takes a step back, looking as though I’m going to hurt her.
“You can go.”
“I don’t want to go,” she says, shaking her head with wide eyes.
“You must.”
“Don’t do this.” Her voice is weak. She’s begging me, and I so badly want to submit to her wishes.
“I am not what you need,” I finally admit to her.
“You are-”
“I’m a murderer!” I scream at her, cutting her off. She cowers from the harsh tone. I finally said it; I told her.
“I’ve killed men before, Katia. I’m not a good man.”
She looks up at me with a coldness in her eyes that I’ve never seen. “So have I.”
“You need more than what I can give you.”
“I want you! I can decide for myself.” She’s on edge and angry, but mostly upset. I don’t think either one of us is thinking clearly, but this needs to happen now, before this goes too far.
“I’m your Master! You will listen to me!”
“You need to go home, Katia.” I tell her with a straight face, refusing to acknowledge the gouging pain in my chest. I give her the keys to my car. She can have it. Fuck, she could have it all if she wants. But she needs to go now before I snap and keep her forever.
“No!” she yells at me, and I can’t take it. I grab her waist and pull her body close to me, lifting her off the floor and storming to the stairwell.
“Stop it!” she screams at me. “Isaac, no!” Her body shudders with a sob, and I hate myself. More now than I ever have for hurting her. But I have to. I have to save her. I can’t let her stay with me and ruin her beauty. Her strength. I need her to leave me.
“You have to go.” I try to tell her flatly, but my voice breaks.
“I need you to know how much you own me,” she screams at me, her voice so loud it hurts my ears, but I don’t care. I drag her toward the front door. She hits me, pulling her fist back and slamming it against my chest. I feel a tug and hear a snap of something, but I’m not sure what. My eyes fly to her bracelet, but it’s still intact.
“You can’t throw me out,” she says, pushing me away with no success as we reach the foyer.
“I won’t let you.” Her voice lacks conviction and strength. Tears stream down her face and onto my shoulder, breaking my heart at her pain.
Better now. Better this way. I finally put her down and she stumbles as her feet struggle to find purchase. I swing the front door open.
“Leave,” I tell her, trying to rid all the emotion from my voice.
“I love you, Isaac.” Her voice cracks with emotion.
Hearing those words from her lips almost makes me fall to my knees.
To beg for her forgiveness.
To beg her not to leave me.
I stand there silent, not moving, not responding.
“Please,” she says and her voice shakes, “Please don’t, Master.”
“Go, Katia.” The words are forced from my lips. I’ll only be her Master. That’s all I can promise her. And she needs more. This is the only way I can give her more.
Her beautiful lips part and a huff of disbelief leaves her. The pain still there, but a hint of anger is slipping in. Hold onto that anger, my kitten, it will make this easier.
It takes her a moment to gather herself. Grabbing the keys and walking out the door, but before she leaves for good, she turns to me.
“I won’t stay with someone who doesn’t want me.” Her words are soft and full of pain. Her wide eyes are pleading with me, begging me to tell her everything I selfishly want to say. “Do you not want me?” she says with her composure breaking, tears slipping down her face.
I want so badly to take her in my arms and crash my lips to hers, to brush her tears away and keep her.
But I can’t do that to her.
Not if I truly love her. And I do. I know so strongly in this moment I do.
“No,” I finally say the word. It’s hard to push it out, but once it leaves my lips, it’s done. She turns abruptly, taking in a breath and walking straight to the car. She doesn’t turn around, not once. Even when she’s in the driver’s seat, she refuses to look at me.
My knees threaten to give out as every inch of my skin burns with the need to go to her, to stop her.
I watch her walk away from me.
I watch her leave me.
And I stand there in the doorway, waiting to realize that I’ve done what’s best for her. And this pain is justified.
But it hurts too much.
As I start to shut the door, I see what broke earlier, when I brought her down here while she was fighting me. The chain. My chain. I close the door and bend down to pick it off the floor. The thin silver with diamond cuts shimmers as I pick it up and clench it in my fist.
I broke it.
The vision of my mother’s necklace, as she lay on the cold hard floor of the kitchen, flashes in my eyes as my thumb rubs along the chain.
Why is she so still? My heart beats faster and faster but my body only gets colder as I slowly come out from the hallway and walk toward her. He left, the monster left after I watched him do this to her.
I didn’t know. How could I know that this time he’d kill her?
“Mom?” I call out to her in a whisper, still scared that she’ll beat me for interfering like she always did.
But her eyes are open. They’re red, but not like they usually are. Not from the drugs. It’s blood. Her blood vessels broke and her eyes are so red.
“Mom?” I say louder as I walk closer to her.
Her chest isn’t moving. She’s so still. So quiet. I stare at her chest, waiting for it to rise with a breath as I kneel down next to her. My eyes are so blurry, why am I crying?
She’s not dead. She can’t be.
I shake her shoulders. “Mom!” I yell at her, and my heart beats faster with fear. Both that she’ll hurt me for yelling, and that she’s really dead.
I shake her, but the only sound is the chain around her neck. The necklace I bought her with the only money I had. She’s wearing it today. She wears it on days when she wants me to know that she loves me I think. She wore it today.