Author: Priscilla West

He carefully put the gun down on the coffee table. It was out of his hand but not out of his reach.

“Calm down, babe. Breathe. Tell me you’re okay. Please.”

I tried my best to calm my nerves, taking deep breaths and hugging myself tightly. “What do you want?”

“Kristen, you have to understand. I wouldn’t be doing this if there was any other way.”

“Marty, you have a gun. You can’t have a good reason for this.”

“It wouldn’t have come to this if that asshole hadn’t beaten the hell out of me.” He pointed at Vincent. “I have to protect myself. And you. I need to talk to you.”

“Okay,” I muttered, lips quivering. I kept my eyes on Vincent, trying to find hope in him. Vincent was returning my gaze, nodding slightly, silently instructing me to stay calm. “I’m listening.”

“Please, look at me. Don’t be scared,” Marty said.

I reluctantly turned my gaze toward him. The bandages covering what used to be a handsome face made him look menacing.

“That’s better. Are you okay?”

“Yes,” I lied, a tear running down my cheek.

“I need you to hear me out. I’m not going to hurt you.” He studied me for a moment, ensuring I gave him my full attention. “This isn’t easy for me to say, Kristen.” He sighed deeply. “My life’s been complete shit since you left me.”

Not knowing how to respond, I nodded silently.

“It was so sudden. Why did you leave like that? I know what I did was wrong but you didn’t even break up with me properly. After two years together, it was just poof. Gone. How could you do that to me?”

I swallowed hard, hoping my answer wouldn’t make him angrier. “Marty, you hurt me. I was afraid.”

“We’ve been off and on before. I thought this was just another hurdle for us to overcome. I didn’t know you’d react that way. You’d always been so patient and understanding. Do you know what it’s like to have the love of your life just disappear from your world? I was heartbroken. When I went to your apartment in Boston, you were gone. But most of your things were still there. I thought you’d come back for them. I waited for you. Days. Weeks. I slept on your couch, didn’t go to work. I called you, sent you messages. You didn’t answer any of them.”

He studied me for my reaction. I remained silent, sniffling.

“You ran. It took me a while to come to terms with it but when I realized what had happened, I felt horrible. Like I was abandoned. Do you understand how that feels?”

“I’m sorry you’ve gone through a rough patch.”

“I fell apart, Kristen. You know my job as an investment banker? I got fired because I stopped showing up. Then I couldn’t get another job. Nobody would hire me. I was too depressed to even care. It wasn’t long before I stopped trying. Know what I do now? Or at least what I did until a month ago.”

“What?”

“I worked at a McDonalds. That’s what it came to after nearly two years of taking odd jobs since you left me. I kept getting fired. My coworkers would always make fun of me. They’d laugh at me. ‘Look at the Harvard boy. He’s no better than us.’ It made me so angry. I was just trying to do my job like everyone else but they thought I believed I was better than them. Which wasn’t true! It made me lose my temper.”

“That sounds terrible.” As much as I hated Marty for hurting me, it didn’t make me feel good to hear about how rough his life had been the past two years.

“Yeah, I don’t understand why people have to be such shitheads. I try so hard to be a good person but people don’t see that. They look at me like I’m rotten when it’s them. They’re the bad ones. Judging me. Accusing me of things that aren’t true. I know I make mistakes but really I’m a good person. You know that, right? Can you ever forgive me for what I did to you?”

“I don’t know, Marty. You hurt me very badly.”

“I feel awful about it all. There’s not a day that goes by that I don’t regret what I did to you.”

“Okay,” I said. “Is that what this is all about? You just want my forgiveness?”

“That’s part of it. You mean so much to me. The other part is that I love you, Kristen. I’ve said it to you before and I meant it. I’ll never stop loving you. I need to know how you feel. Do you still have feelings for me?”

“How can you ask me that when you just broke into my apartment with a gun?”

“I told you, I had no choice. It’s that fucker’s fault. Vincent.” He turned to Vincent. “I know who you are. Billionaire, playboy, CEO of Sandworks—Vincent Sorenson.” Marty returned his attention to me. “Can’t you see he’s just using you? He’s going to break your heart. He doesn’t love you like I do.”

“You don’t know anything about me,” Vincent growled. “I’d never hurt Kristen like you did. You’re a monster.”

“Look at my face,” Marty said to me. He unwrapped his bandages, revealing black and blue swollen skin. “You know who did this? Tell me who’s the real monster.”

I shook my head. “You’re upset, Marty. Even so, you’ve never gone this far before. Have you been taking your meds or seeing the psychiatrist?”

“I want to but I can’t afford those things. They’re too expensive.”

“Can’t your family help you?”

“Not really. You already know I dropped out of law school. That pissed my dad off. When I refused to return to law school, he disowned me. My mom tried to talk some sense into him, but she ended up killing herself last month by taking too many sleeping pills.”

My stomach dropped. His mom had been a person with serious issues, but any suicide was a sad situation. “Oh my god.”

“Yeah.” He paused, his eyes beginning to water. He turned his head, blinked away tears then returned his gaze to me. “It made me realize I need you, Kristen. My life’s a mess without you. You’re my rock. I can’t keep going on without knowing if my only chance at happiness is still out there for me. Can’t you see how much I care about you?”

I began to play with my necklace as if I’d just discovered I was wearing it. “This isn’t right, Marty.”

“Let me see your hand.”

The image of Marty twisting my finger flashed through my mind. “W-What are you going to do?” I dropped my hand back down and began to hug my knees again instinctively.

He shifted his seat closer to me, backing me against the armrest of the couch. Leaning over, he reached for my hand and gently pulled my arm away my knees. He brought my pinky up to his lips and kissed it tenderly. I felt like I was going to throw up.

Vincent struggled against his cuffs. “Good lord man, what are you doing? Kristen, he’s manipulating you. You have nothing to feel guilty about. He’s the one who should feel guilty.”

“Stay out of this,” Marty spat.

“You make me sick,” Vincent said. “Look at yourself, using a sob story to keep Kristen attached to you.”

Marty picked up the gun and aimed it at Vincent. “I said stay out of this.”

“Marty don’t! Put the gun down!”

Marty huffed a few times then relaxed. “He’s trying to brainwash you, Kristen. Can’t you see that? I don’t blame you for what happened, and I’m not trying to guilt trip you. It’s not your fault. You’re just like me.”

“What are you talking about?” I asked, frustrated and scared.

“Think about it, Kris. You ran away from me. From us. You have to admit that’s not normal. You should’ve talked to me. We could’ve worked things out like we always do. That’s what couples do. They work things out together.” He kissed my hand again. “I have a theory. And please bear with me on this. Remember how we found out I had borderline personality disorder? Well, I did a lot of research and even talked to Dr. Perkins about this. We think you might have an anxiety disorder.”

My head swirled. “What?”

“You’re afraid of the unknown, of taking risks, of failing. Remember the anxiety you would get before tests?” Marty chuckled brightly. “I would massage your shoulders for half an hour before the exam then hold you after you finished because you thought you bombed it.”

“I don’t have an anxiety disorder.”

Marty rubbed the back of my shoulder. His eyes were warm and his voice was light-hearted. “Come on, Kris. Don’t be so stubborn. It’s better if you admit it because then we can do something about it.”

I remembered how I had suffered from test anxiety numerous times back in college. Marty had been there to comfort me. Maybe I did have a problem. I ran away from Marty. I ran away from Vincent at the restaurant. I basically ran away from my parents. I was thinking about running away from having my baby. I was afraid of taking risks, afraid of the consequences, afraid of getting hurt, of failing. Riley had said so. Vincent had made me aware of it as well. Now Marty was saying the same thing.

Even with all that, he had no right to try and diagnose me. “No, Marty. Don’t tell me I have a problem.”

“Shh, shh. I know it’s hard to admit. I had trouble admitting I had a problem myself. But it’s okay, Kris. I get it now. I understand why you ran away. I just want to help you.”

“You seem to be forgetting you invaded your her apartment with a gun,” Vincent said, struggling against his restraints.

“You don’t understand!” Marty cried. He turned to me. “How can you be falling for this guy, Kristen?”

“You don’t know anything about him,” I said.

Marty threw his hands up in frustration. “I know he’s a smooth-talking player who thinks you’re the flavor of the month.”

His words hurt me. Although Vincent and I had resolved the miscommunication over Ariel Diamond, the issue had still been lingering on my mind. “Why do you keep saying that?”