Chapter 152: Impossible

Rain

I am glad when he gets up and leaves the room. I rush to the bathroom; I see through an open door. I hit my knees and threw up over and over, but it’s only stomach acid; I have nothing else in my stomach. I get into the shower and turn on the hot water; it is burning me, but I don’t care; I’m just frantic to get the feeling of him off of me. I look around and find a washcloth. I scrub and scrub.

Then he’s there, ripping it from my hands, “Fucking stop, Rain, stop.”

I pull away from him, only now realizing I am crying. I slide down to the bottom of the shower and curl in on myself, just sobbing, not able to stop. He exhales, and then he gets in and pulls me up. He finishes washing me and checks me over, and I hear him cursing. Then he pulls me out and starts to dry me off. I still can’t stop crying.

He sits me on the bed, wrapped in a towel. He goes and grabs some clothes and puts them down next to me. He squats down in front of me, “Rain, listen to me. You need to calm down and get dressed. Then we’ll sit down and talk.”

He leaves me alone again, and it takes a bit before I can finally stop crying and pull myself together. I physically feel like shit. I see the clothes, and I look at what he gave me, glad it’s not some stupid lingerie or some shit. It’s a pair of leggings and a t-shirt. He even gave me a bra and panties that are more than just pieces of lace, so at least there’s that.

I eventually am dressed, and I leave the bedroom, padding barefoot through this very unfamiliar house. I do manage to finally find the living room he was talking about, and I see him standing looking out the back windows, or I guess the more I look, it’s a wall of windows that seems to show the back of the house. I can see a beach and the ocean.

He must hear me because he turns around and looks at me. He has a very stern look on his face. He motions for me to sit down, and I find the armchair and sit so he can’t possibly sit beside me. He huffs and shakes his head, but he sits down.

“There are going to be some ground rules, because there is no way things can keep going the way they have been. You can’t blank yourself out anymore. It is starting to affect the kids, not just me or your family. So, no more. If you continue, I will be forced to separate you from the kids by placing you in some type of mental facility for treatment, while they are kept away from you so that you don’t inadvertently hurt them by being blanked out and not able to take care of them properly.” I stop breathing.

I can’t look at him; I am looking at the floor. I am having trouble drawing a full breath. He will take the kids from me unless I do what he wants me to do. He is manipulating me, and the problem is there is nothing I can do about it. I can feel the tears that had stopped starting to flow down my face again. My body is shaking.

“You will begin to behave like the wife that you are. We are married; there is no changing that. I will be the Don in Chicago, and my wife can not be seen acting like a spoiled brat and blanking herself out. Your father is already going to have to do massive amounts of damage control because of the wedding fiasco. I am not willing to do that. So, if you want to keep being able to be with and care for our children, then you will cease throwing a temper tantrum and pull yourself together. You will go back to behaving as you did before you shot me and begin to act like my fucking wife.” I say nothing; my brain is melting.

“You will give me more children, and we will have a happy home, because you will stop being so stubborn and accept that you are mine. You were always meant to be mine. I love you, Rain, more than I can tell you. However, I can’t keep letting this happen. You are hurting yourself, and soon you’ll start hurting our kids. So, this stops now. We have a week-long honeymoon for you to get your head in the right spot, but no self-harming, no blanking out, you will eat, and you will act like my wife when I touch you.” I had nothing to say. I had nothing, literally.

The tears continued to fall, and there was no way in hell I could stop them. Was he going to take my kids because I couldn’t stop crying? What was I supposed to do? Would I be able to stay sane like this? Was I going to lose my mind and wind up in a psych ward anyway? Would I need to stay drunk? How would I take care of the kids if I needed alcohol or drugs just to try and function? How would all of this work? I was going to lose my kids; he would take them from me, I knew it. There was no way I could do what he wanted me to.

Maybe I should just kill myself. If they were going to take my kids away from me anyway, and there was no stopping it, I knew I couldn’t watch it happen. I couldn’t break that way. I had no recourse, so I saw no other way out of this. He would destroy me one way or another, so maybe it would be best to just take myself out of the picture so he couldn’t do that. Surely the kids seeing me breaking apart at the seams was worse than me just not being there anymore.

Would he hurt them? Would my supposed family hurt them? They seemed to want them, so maybe they would take care of them. If I was hurting them already, and there was no way I could do what he wanted and he was setting me up to fail, then maybe just taking myself out was the answer.

I had no idea how long I was sitting there, with tears streaming down my face, not being able to breathe. I couldn’t breathe, and I could feel the darkness closing in on me as I couldn’t catch my breath.

“Breathe, Rain, fucking breathe.” He was screaming in my face, but I couldn’t do what he wanted, so maybe I should just stop breathing. I welcomed the darkness when it took me.