Page 92 of Seizing Control: Part Two

Living with the knowledge that I’ve failed her is hard.

Surviving inside a reality where I hurt her and liked it is impossible.

Death felt like the only answer.

As soon as Meeyal left to check in with Cub and Toker over the last hacking attempt, I locked the doors to my room, stripped naked, and propped myself against the wall in the bathroom. Clutching my handgun, I sat there for almost an hour. I’d cock the hammer. Engage the trigger. Press it to my temple. Notch it under my chin.

Over and over.

Testing my boundaries.

Desensitising myself to the idea of dying.

Reminding myself that this was the end I deserved.

Time ran out when my bedroom door was kicked in. The sound of boots moving through my personal space made me edgy. Feeling like the Grim Reaper was bearing down on me, I’d used shaking hands to press the muzzle under my chin. With my eyes shut, I’d held my breath and squeezed the trigger.

The boom was exhilarating.

My heart pounded.

Pain erupted in my head.

It was over.

Peace.

Then I became aware that Lazarus was holding me, and all the hurt returned.

“Fuck.”

I hold my aching head with both hands.

Stare at the pattern in the pavers like they hold the answers to my problems.

Ignore that I can hear my son giggling inside the house as Toker makes him laugh.

My soul cries out to join them, but I refuse to allow myself the solace.

Instead, I do my best to hold onto the all the reasons why I can’t give into my desire to apologise to my wife and beg her to take me back.

"The bar is so low it is in Satan's wine cellar, and yet here you are. Doing the limbo with the Devil"

17

LILY

Three days later

As my bedroom door is eased open, I hold my breath. I don’t know which man I want it to be, but I am cognisant that I need it to be one of them. I’m lonely. The two men I love are complicated creatures. Their egos are as oversized as their hearts. My need for them is offset by my fear that they’ll let me down again.

I’ve demanded no more lies and secrets.

I’ve made them promise not to leave me.

Lazarus’ ongoing absence, incommunicado as he has been with no further updates from Hunter, is starting to feel like another abandonment. The sight of my husband popping his head into my room each night, his icy gaze scanning the darkness before he closes the door and disappears into his own sanctuary reminds me of our broken vows. Between the pair of them, they have turned me into a needy mess. I barely recognise myself. My strength is sapped. The urge to hurt myself is only held at bay by the love I have for my children. My self-respect is dented beyond recognition. The shield around my trauma is paper-thin.

I am flailing.

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