Chapter 9

Although Catherine cried out in despair mentally, on the outside she kept on setting one foot in front of the other, looking completely calm, cool and collected. Just until she turned the next corner and left Henry's field of vision. She knew that he would not follow her because she had recognized and accepted the sad resignation that had clouded his otherwise bright eyes, even though it broke her heart.
Only then did she dare to slow down her pace and lose the rigid posture she had assumed. Her shoulders slumped forward and it took her tremendous strength to fight back the tears that welled in her eyes. She felt unable to cope with this overwhelming situation, trapped in a never-ending vortex of lust, despair, pain and helplessness.

Not daring to show her face to anyone in her distraught state, Catherine went straight to the ladies room. She was already late, a few more minutes wouldn't save the situation anyway.

The sight of her reflection startled her. Her hair was tousled from Henry's eager hands, her lipstick completely smeared and the spot on her neck, where her husband had bitten her, stood out prominently from her pale skin. The woman in the mirror looked like a stranger and stared at her with unnaturally dilated pupils.
"Oh dear God," she mumbled haggardly and moistened a paper towel to dab it over her heated neck and face. Then she gently wiped the smeared edges of her lips with it.
Catherine pulled the clips out of her hair, ran her fingers through the soft curls and pinned her hair back up as good as possible without having a brush.

Then she looked skeptically at Henry's bite mark. If she completely buttoned up her blouse, the collar would cover the spot, even if this would make her feel uncomfortable for the rest of the day. She hated any form of constriction near her neck. Even the feeling of cloth against her skin seemed to suffocate her at times. Something she was still struggling with since the attack. Therefore, she didn't wear turtlenecks anymore and she could only stand scarves that were bound very loosely around her neck, even in winter. But today she couldn't avoid it.

After she had buttoned up her blouse, Catherine let her eyes glide lower.
"Damn," she cursed when she noticed three runners in her pantyhose, one of them as wide as a finger. She had no choice but to remove her destroyed nylons and go barelegged.

Right now she felt bedraggled, virtually below par which had nothing to do with Henry and his qualities as a lover, but with herself and her damaged coenesthesia because of the things that had happend to her.

At first Henry and she had given it a try of course. They had tried to carefully rebuilt their intimate private life a few month after the attack – once her physical wounds had healed. Her rape, she corrected herself as this was something she still avoided to call by its right name.

Henry had been sensitive, patient and considerate of her and her fears. He had handed over the wheel to her and she had done nothing but driven their marriage straight up against the wall. Because no matter how much she wished to still be the old and tough Catherine, she had always panicked as soon as his hands had touched anything but her face or her own hands.
And when she could no longer stand the pressure and fears that relentlessly gnawed at her, she had released Henry from his obligations. She had raised up her walls, presented herself cold and unapproachable and put an end to the inhibited attempts to have sex with her husband.

And she had to give him due for one thing: he had not capitulated and abandoned her right away but had fought for her, their marriage and the continued existence of his family. But her coldness and her aloofness had finally driven him into giving up and ultimately pushed her husband into the arms of many other women.

But roundabout four years ago the well-proven status quo had been lifted when - after a heated discussion where she had actually thrown a plate in his direction - she had jumped his bones and they had liturally been all over each other. So their battle of words had turned into wild, passionate sex on the kitchen floor.

After this experience things had changed significantly. There was always tension between them nowadays. A tension that was sometimes so unbearable intense that it unloaded itself in impossible situations just as now. For only in such an aggressive and angry state, her overactive brain was able to block out all her fears of intimacy and closeness.

And each time coming down to reality hit her like a monster truck. Her first impulse was always to take flight and renewing her protective walls.

What alarmed her, were the decreasing intervals between these encounters from time to time.
Only a month ago had been the last time they had started off with a disagreement in the living room which of course ended in unrestrained sex on their couch. Luckily none of the children had been at home at that time.

Afterwards she always hated herself for it. For obvious reasons as well for reasons no one else could understand.
Because this kind of sex, driven only by lust and anger, represented a loss of control. Something she normally avoided at all costs. It represented a betrayal of her own body that could not consciously engage in an exchange of affection but succumbed only to lower impulses and released endorphins.

But this time Henry had behaved in a completely different way. He had made another approach to fix their relationship. And though this approach was partly due to their previous sex, she still believed his words. His emotions had been genuine, open and veritable. Which made her feel worse than usual. How should she interpret Henry's change of heart? What exactly was he hoping for? A resurgence of their broken marriage – heavyly loaded with guilt, pain and helplessness – was absurd.

How the hell did he ever imagine it? Did he assume that she had overcome her trauma after her abuse? No matter how much she wished for it, she simply couldn't.
But quite obviously Henry thought she had come to terms with it. Why shouldn't he because they had sex in irregular intervals. And why should he believe something else, when her rape happened 12 long years ago? That was enough time to overcome a trauma, at least that's what one ought to think.

Anyhow, she had not overcome it, even though Doris kept telling her that each patient had to follow his own path of healing and that there was no universal key for treating a trauma like hers.
Catherine on the other hand saw it completely different.
She interpreted her inability to transcend this experience as a total failure which provoked a frustration that was sometimes unbearable. To reunite with Henry would mean letting him look into the depths of her soul. Something she was not able to do.

In the end his active libido would ruin his intentions sooner rather than later anyway. Henry was a passionate man and sex was very important for him. There were times when they had loved each other almost daily. Better days.
He would not be able to withstand abstinence for any length of time. How long would it take, first for his thoughts to wander and later on him cheating on her?

Her therapist was the only person she ever talked to about her thoughts and the emotional chaos she was catapulted into each time they had an encounter of that kind. Catherine wondered if she should send Doris a message, but she decided against it. She could not always run to her therapist but had to learn how to handle these crises on her own.

Perhaps her best option would be to postpone her meeting with Richard and focus on composing herself instead. Maybe Charlotte even had a new pair of tights in her desk drawer.

Just when she was leaving the ladies' room, her mobile started to ring. After checking the display, Catherine answered the phone.
"Charlie, I don't have much time, what do you want?" She asked impatiently while walking towards Richard's office to cancel their meeting.
"You never have time, Mum. I need my laptop back."
The female CEO took a deep breath before answering.
"Charles, did you do what I told you?", She wanted to know and heard her son sough out the kind of reproachful sigh only a teenager could utter.
"That's totally uncalled for and so not cool, you know?!", her youngest whined. This comment was answer enough to assume that he most likely hadn't lifted any finger at all.
"You know what? Go and ask your dad. He'll have to decide." Should Henry come to an arrangement with Charlie. He asked for it after all and she had no patience left for any further struggle.
"Okay, I'm going to call dad. He'll give it back to me for sure." Before his mother could reply, Charles had already hung up on her. Great, most likely Henry would just give in anyway.
Catherine opened her messenger app and considered warning Henry, but then she decided against it. Should he handle this situation by himself.

When she looked up from her display, Catherine noticed Richard standing in the doorway of his office, probably waiting for her. His gentle yet questioning gaze rested on her.
"I'm sorry for being late, Richard. It's been a crazy day," she admitted whereupon her personnel manager nodded in understanding. Henry and Richard - both French-born - had met before they had even established Val-Sec.
Richard had been Henry's best man and Francis' godfather. He has always been a dear friend of their family, even though his relationship with Henry had noticeably turned cold shortly after her husband had started living out his affairs.

"No problem, Catherine. We can postpone our meeting," he offered with a warm smile.
"That might be a good idea if you don't mind?"
"No, not at all. You look exhausted." His gentle words surprised her.
"Nothing a cup of coffee won't fix." She made an inviting gesture and silently asked Richard to accompany her. They walked down the corridor half-way but all of a sudden Catherine stopped and looked up at him.

"Actually I feel more like a cigarette." At this revelation her HR manager paused as well and looked at her in surprise.
Catherine only smoked when she was stressed out or felt emotionally unstable. And she usually tried to hid it from Henry and her children.
Richard himself was a social smoker and Catherine's accompanist and complice.

As expected he refrained from any comment but took her laptop instead to deposit it in his office until their return and disappeared to get his cigarettes.

There was a small cafe just around the corner where they ordered a latte macchiato each and took a seat outside on the terrace. Wordlessly Catherine reached into the box Richard offered her and took out a cigarette. Her friend gave her a light and she greedily took a first, deep drag.
"You know, you can talk to me about..." Richard said but Catherine interrupted him gently.
"No, I don't want to talk. I just want to switch off my head for a moment and enjoy this fucking smoke," she mumbled and dropped back on to her seat.
So they just sat there in silence, drinking their coffee and smoking their cigarettes.

"Isn't that Francis over there?" Richards broke the silence and pointed at the main entrance of Val-Sec. Catherine turned her head and looked out for her son. Indeed, her eldest son stood in front of the entry door. Next to him was Mary Scott. The two were obviously engrossed in an intense conversation and had no eyes for their surroundings, just for each other. "Is this his girlfriend?"
Catherine snorted ungraciously at that question.
"No, that's his lunch appointment for a planned takeover," she mumbled.
"That was either a very late, or a very long lunch appointment," concluded Richard after taking a look at his watch.

Over the way Mary was holding out her hand but instead of shaking it, her son merely held it in his own for half an eternity whereupon the European said something that obviously embarrassed Francis, but didn't prompt him to release her hand.
Then he finally let go of her.
Mary Scott turned and waved in his direction, wearing a bright smile on her pretty face. She tried to leave but Francis pulled out his smartphone and in turn said something to her.
Mary turned around, holding up her cell phone as well and closed the distance between them.
Where they actually exchanging phone numbers besides flirtation?
Catherine stared at them in bewilderment until Mary Scott hailed a cab and Francis entered their building with a glorified grin on his handsome face. "What the hell is Francis doing?"

WOW, thank you so much for your numerous reviews.
I'm so glad you liked the previous chapter. Especially in cases where you aren't actually into AU-Storys. That made my day.

I hope you like this chapter as well. I tried to get into Catherine's head to show what's going on with her and why she's being like that.

And I have a confession to make. I have now translated each and every chapter I have written for all of my fanfics. That's the reason why the updates aren't as frequent as before - I need to write and translate new stuff before I can post an update. So thanks in advance for your patience.