Note from the author: I decided to repost without changes. Honestly I just needed some time to figure out if I wanted it on the site or not. This is a very rough story. Rated mature for a very good reason. Well written – I got some amazing reviews for it last time. Despite the tough content, I am proud of this story. I normally don't write this well. (Don't mean to sound conceited, but this story was hard as hell to write and turned out very well.) I would say enjoy, but then I just sound evil. Please read. Please review. And PM me if you want to chat, or yell at me. I deserve the latter, at least a bit. There will be no more author's notes until the very end.
Feel Something
I
When Cal didn't answer her persistent knocking on his front door, Gillian let herself in and found him in the kitchen, leaning against the counter and staring at an island piled with liquor bottles.
He should not be drinking. It won't help him. He knows that doesn't he?
Gillian stopped a few feet from him, worried about his temper. He'd been beyond volatile for days, ever since Emily...
Drowned. What a horrible way to die. To choke to death on water in the car next to your father.
"Cal, are you drunk?"
He took his time answering her, his eyes lingering on the bottles before they moved to her face.
"Can't be drunk if I haven't started drinking yet."
She thought she heard him slur his words and in an instant she was furious.
You cannot drink now Cal!
Without thinking about it, Gillian positioned herself between Cal and the alcohol.
"I don't believe you."
Cal crossed his arms and just stared at Gillian, his face closed and unreadable.
I can't read him. I can't tell what he's thinking. How can he make his face do that? He cannot have taken muscle relaxants. He has no reason to and no thought to do so.
He exploded in movement without any hint of his fury crossing his face and pinned Gillian to the island with his body.
"What don't you believe, that you have to drink to be drunk or that I haven't had a sip yet? Want to read my face or smell my breath? I haven't had anything to drink yet."
His face expressed his honesty and Gillian nodded like an excited child or a frightened woman.
"Okay, I believe you."
I do believe you, but you have to stop acting like this Cal.
Cal picked up a bottle to Gillian's right and she glanced at it. Rum.
"This looks good."
Water looks good.
"Cal-"
"Nah. Not that one."
He put the bottle down and as his eyes traveled across Gillian's chest to look at the bottles on her left, his eyes lingered on her breasts and Gillian took a step to her right when she saw what he was doing.
Don't look at me like that. I can't do that.
"Hey, where you going?"
Cal's hands grabbed the island on either side of her and Gillian found herself trapped between a man in a silent rage and his alcohol.
I have to calm him down. This will pass.
"Cal-"
"You have to help me pick one, Gillian."
He never calls me that. What is going on with him?
"I don't want-"
"Quiet."
His eyes darkened and for the first time, Gillian was frightened by Cal.
"Stop."
Pushing her body against the island to hold her there, Cal picked up bottles and gave them a quick glance before setting them back down.
"How about this. Scotch? No. Maybe this one. Whiskey. No, doesn't suit my needs. You know, there isn't a single thing here I want to drink, at least not anything with alcohol in it."
He stared into her eyes, his own hungry and depraved and Gillian realized what he meant.
No!
"Cal!"
He can't be saying that. That cannot happen.
Cal's eyes took in her suit jacket and trousers and nodded in appreciation.
Don't look at me that way.
"You don't usually wear a suit, but it looks good on you. So have you had anything to drink Foster?"
His breath got under her collar and beads of sweat ran down Gillian's chest.
"What?"
Snap him out of this.
"Have you been drinking Foster?"
Cal grinned a cocky little grin that sent a chill up and down her spine.
"No."
His eyes traveled down her chest, then back up to Gillian's eyes and what she saw in them terrified her.
"Good."
No, not good.
Gillian pushed against him, shoving and struggling to escape his tight arms.
"Stop it Cal!"
Cal shoved her back against the island and a jolt of pain flew up her spine.
My back!
"Oh you stop it Gil!"
Never Gil or Gillian but now twice in a minute.
"Please stop it Cal!"
Make him stop this before it goes too far!
"Rather not. You enjoying this as much as I am?"
She glared at him and Cal smiled as she answered him.
"What? No."
How could I enjoy you scaring me?
Cal studied her face, his curiosity unnerving.
"Oh now that's an interesting look. Fear and...what is that? Smugness? Is that the word for it? It's an interesting combination. Together it's defiance. Isn't it?"
With all her stored strength, Gillian shoved Cal and he stumbled backwards, but stood between her and the door.
Keep him calm. Go around the island. Get out.
"You're not...you're not yourself Cal."
Keep him calm? He can't be calm. How could he?
"Really? How's that?"
He needs sleep. Yes, sleep may help.
"When was the last time you slept? You look exhausted."
Cal grabbed her left arm as she tried to slip around the corner of the island and he shoved her into the wall, but didn't pin her there with his body.
"Oh are you going to put me to bed?"
No.
"You need to get some sleep Cal."
In an instant Cal pressed his body against hers and he shouted into her face.
"I can't sleep. I can't sleep! I lay there thinking about Emily!"
Emily. Of course. You're a psychologist Gillian. Help him.
"There was nothing you could do to save her-"
"There was everything I could have done to save her! You have no idea how I feel."
His face was blank again and Gillian couldn't think of anything else to say.
"Yes, I do Cal. I lost my daughter, too."
I do know how you feel.
"Oh please, Gil, the biological mother wanted her back. It's not the same thing."
How dare he!
Angered and fed up, Gillian shouted back.
"It feels like the same thing and that's what matters!"
Cal squeezed her arms and the breath out of her lungs as he crammed Gillian's body between his own and the wall.
Can't, breathe. Stop it Cal.
"Oh so you know what it feels like to be dead, empty, numb?"
Gillian managed a few words, hopeful he would let her breathe when he heard her.
"Cal...you're...scaring...me."
A moment later the pressure on her chest let up as Cal released her.
"I'm scaring you?"
He didn't sound concerned or sorry as he crossed his arms and leaned against the island.
Yes. Yes you are.
Taking a deep breath, Gillian walked past him.
And I'm leaving.
"Yes."
Just keep walking. You can't help him right now. You'll just get hurt.
A snort of laughter from Cal got Gillian's heart pounding faster as she continued walking out of the kitchen and his next words, and the snide way he said them, made the little hairs all over her body stand up straight.
"Oh that's great."
Her step faltered but Gillian kept walking.
Don't respond. Don't encourage him. Just leave. You can't help him when he's acting like a bastard. And what does he even mean?
Against her better judgment, Gillian responded to Cal's remark.
"How is that-"
Cal's right arm snaked around Gillian's neck and his left around her waist as he jerked her up and out of her heels and pulled her backwards, and not into the kitchen, but down the hallway leading to his bedroom.
"Because I felt something."
Not there. No!
"No! Cal!"
Gillian clawed at his arms but couldn't get through the fabric of his dress shirt.
Have to get away from him!
Her struggling got her nowhere but thrown hard against the wall.
"I didn't feel numb."
And this is no way to feel anything! Not like this, Cal, not like this!
Bruised, disoriented and in pain where her shoulder met the wall, Gillian tried to stand but Cal grabbed her wrists in one hand and dragged her into his bedroom.
No! What is he doing!
"No Cal, stop! Please stop!"
Cal ignored her pleas, hauled Gillian to her feet and shoved her onto the bed.
No, this is not happening!
Gillian tried sliding off the side of the mattress but Cal caught her ankle and pulled her down to the foot of the bed.
Hit him!
Her fist popped up but Cal caught it with his left and dug his right deep into her stomach.
"You should stay here. I'll be right back."
Cal disappeared down the hallway as Gillian gasped for air.
No. No. No. No.
Unable to breathe, Gillian crumbled in the middle of the bed.
I have to get the hell out of here!
Back in the kitchen, Cal selected a bottle of vodka and a chef's knife before he went back into his room and kicked the door shut with his foot.
Is that a knife? Oh God. No Cal!
Cal walked over to his nightstand, set the bottle down, stuck the knife in the wood and glanced down at a battered Gillian.
"Can you help me feel more, Dr. Foster?"