The Lifeline

I held her as I wrestled the phone out of my pocket. Two strong hands grabbed my shirt, lifted and flung me into the wall. The small of my back hit the credenza, momentarily paralyzing my spine. My phone flew away. Through the stars, I saw a mountain of a man was moving toward me. I forced myself to my feet, trying to form some kind of defense. More quickly than I could react, a large hand wrapped around my neck and pinned me against the wall and began to lift me. The other hand drove into my stomach. I was suffocating on my own vomit.

"So you're the fucker who filled my sister's head with crap," he growled. His eyes didn't leave room for mercy. I struggled to pull his arm, to lessen the strain on my neck. "She's mine, you little puke. She always has been." His statement was followed by another fist. I couldn't breathe enough to cry out.

Survival does strange things to the mind. It brings back memories of things you hadn't thought about in years. I had a self defense class once, four whole hours in the Army. It was just before our unit was deployed to Korea for a stint on the DMZ. "Americans don't fight fair," the sergeant said, "we use technology and logistics to kill our opponents before they even know they are in a fight. As always, things get fucked up and you may find yourself in a fair fight. The North Koreans don't have our tech or any bullets to waste. They're pumped up with hand-to-hand training. I have four hours to teach you how to survive a fair fight. Unfortunately, it would take years so I am going to teach you how to cheat." I could still hear his raspy voice. "You are going to use whatever you find as a weapon. Your helmet, swung by the chin strap makes a wonderful mace. Swung hard enough, it will break bones. Your web gear is sporting a canteen full of water. It will be your flail. Whatever you do, don't try to 'Rambo' these guys with your fists. You will outmatched. Beat them to death with the butt of your rifle. Anything to keep them an arm's reach away. If all else fails, I want you to remember eyes and ears. Fuck up their eyes and they will let you go. Ears peal off like banana peels; they will let you go."

All else had failed. I was slowly dying. I let go of his arm, sunk deeper into the strangle and then grabbed his ears. His scream was louder than I expected when I tore with all my might. The sergeant was right - he let go. I dropped his flesh and grabbed the lamp off the credenza and swung. The sound was sickening as the base of the lamp sunk into the side of his face. He dropped to his knees and collapsed to the floor. There was silence except for Lydia's chant. I dropped the lamp, then my breakfast.

I crawled, gasping, to my phone. Everything had died. All my dreams, at least the ones that mattered, had fled me. I dialed 911 and crawled back to my shattered love. She couldn't see me or hear me. Everything that was her had collapsed away. I held her there until they pulled me away, her mantra still echoing. I broke then.

The months that followed were a preview to hell. Tabloids caught wind of the story and the mainstream press followed. Salacious stories fed the nation. Wealth, incest, rape, beating and Lydia lost in nowhere. She was what her brother had created. Just a bitter shell forged through years of torment. I found her in there and then, in one morning, lost her. The world was black to me; there was no color.

I threw myself at the company. A dictatorship was born of hate that had nowhere to go. I wanted and needed others to feel my pain. I left early one morning, after I had driven Sarah to tears. I walked the streets and found some minor relief from the anguish.

Both the clerk and the artist tried to talk me out of it. They had heard the stories and recognized my face. Money bought the pain. Their greed overrode reason. I relished it. It was my 'riding crop' of choice.

I returned that afternoon as half myself. I apologized, through my tears, to Sarah. I gave more stable apologizes to others. They all understood, but they would never fully understand. I returned for more pain the next day. I loved the feel of being carved into. It let me remember her and forget what I saw that Saturday morning. I missed my bitch.

They wouldn't let anyone see her that first month. I was crushed when she refused to see me the next. I added more pain to my day. It was not going to be enough. It was Glenda who found me, drunk and on the roof of my building. I wasn't going to jump, although falling was a distinct possibility. She, the only person who knew the half of it, held me.

"No one knew, Tony," she said to my drunken stupor.

"He broke her because I wasn't there!" I yelled. I didn't move from her arms. They reminded me of Lydia's.

"Just give her time. Our Lydia will be back and ordering us around in no time," she reasoned and held me tighter. I couldn't help but laugh at that. That first day with Lydia had been a curse. I would trade all the days, from this one forward, to just live that curse again. At least Glenda understood.

We spent the afternoon trading Lydia stories. In her own way, Glenda loved Lydia. Lydia drove the success of 'The Reef' and exposed Glenda to parts of herself that had lain hidden. Lydia had feared uncontrolled touching. Glenda had been too forward once and caught the brunt of Lydia's anger. It was my massage, the one I copied from the cruise ship, that began to eat at her shell. The slow start and controlled gentleness. It fed her repressed need for human touch. Her confusion, mixed with anger, when I roughly handled her butt made sense now. Much of Lydia made sense as we talked.

"I just wish she would allow me to visit," I said as the alcohol slowly evaporated from my system.

"Do you think that would stop her?" Glenda asked firmly. "If you told her she couldn't see you, do you think it would even slow her down?" I smiled at the thought. I had been wallowing in self pity while the woman I love wallowed in hers.

"Fuck no!" I answered, "she'd bankrupt me and have me crawling on my hands and knees to beg forgiveness." Glenda nodded with a knowing smile. I gave Glenda a kiss on the cheek. "I'm going to get my bitch back."

Lydia was in private facility outside the reach of the press. It was the best money could buy. It looked more like a country club than a psychiatric hospital. I entered the visitor section on a Monday, with a Kindle loaded to the brim. I had a plan - it would take a few days to implement. I knew stubborn and her name was Lydia.

"Please inform Lydia Sampson that Tony Franklin is here to visit." I already knew what the nurse's response would be, but in a place like this, the request would make it to Lydia. I sat down and got comfortable in the waiting room. I read.

I repeated the same request after lunch, and sat and read some more. For two more days, I repeated the process. It was a bonus that I was able to eat into my reading list. On the fourth day I baited the hook.

"Please inform Lydia Sampson that Tony has not been to work for four days." The nurse's eyebrows raised at my request. "Word for word if you would be so kind." I sat down and began to read. I didn't even get to finish a chapter.

"Mister Franklin," the nurse said. She had smile on her face. I think we had bonded over the last few days. "Dr. Hawkins would like you to see him in his office." I stood with a rather smug look on my face. My girl was still concerned about her investments. She couldn't be all gone.

"Mr. Franklin.." I quickly interrupted the doctor.

"Tony, please." I was still a bit smug.

"Okay, Tony," the doctor continued, "Ms Sampson has agreed to meet with you as long as I am present. I think she wants me to act as a buffer. You may not be pleased with the outcome." I smiled at the doctor. He had no idea what Lydia needed. She needed her shell back and this idiot was probably trying to destroy it forever.

"You won't mind if I remain a bit more optimistic, do you?" I sounded like an asshole, but it was what Lydia would say. She would just look better doing it. The doctor lost the fake friendliness he was trying to project.

"Her shame is deep, Tony. I don't want you undoing how far she has come." The doctor was spouting regular treatment. It would never work with Lydia. She needed my glue to put her back together. "Keep your comments to the 'today' - don't make any promises that may not be kept. She needs stability and strong truths - not dreams."

"Did she specify that I should be told what to say?" I was getting cocky. I saw the irritation on the doctor's face as he realized I may not be cooperative. This is how it felt when Lydia threw around her weight. It was a bit intoxicating. You just concentrate on your goal and screw all those who try to slow you down.

"Okay. I'm letting you know now that I advised her against this." The doctor was seething, but I was elated. "It's my opinion that your type of relationship won't do her any good. She needs a more traditional relationship now." I smiled at his ignorance. "Well, I've warned you the best way I can. I'll act as a mediator and you will get your say. Keep the visit cordial and please don't antagonize her if she doesn't see it your way."

"No antagonizing. Got it, Doc." I smiled at his sigh. I was having more fun than I should. The doctor was a pompous ass anyway. He picked up his phone and told his secretary to let Lydia in.

Lydia walked in and I tried not to grimace. She looked like she had folded into herself. She said "hi" weakly, with an added dose of shyness. I just nodded my head and watched her walk slowly, almost shamble, to the other side of the couch. A good four-foot chasm of leather separated us. I let the idiot direct the conversation. He spent a few minutes monologuing about healing and new beginnings. It went in one ear and I puked it out the other. I guess he decided to move into some emotional building exercises. His mistake, not mine.

"Now, Lydia, when you look at Tony, what do you see?" he asked clinically. I looked at Lydia who was struggling to look at me. Her shame was evident; her strength had been torn away.

"Fear," she said softly, "maybe shame and loss." She covered her eyes before she finished. Even her lips had lost their luster. "This is harder than I thought," she told the couch.

"This is how we heal, Lydia," the doctor consoled. Then he made his second mistake. His first was letting me in the room. "What do you see when you look at Lydia, Tony?"

"Forever," I answered quickly and clearly. I was staring directly at Lydia, unwavering in my devotion. Her head snapped up at my word.

"Can you clarify that?" the doctor nervously inquired.

"and ever," I was ready for the ass. These 'touchy-feely' guys are all the same. Too many words, not enough feeling. Lydia was staring at me. I saw her strength building.

"I thought we talked about promises, Mr Franklin." The doctor was getting more irritated. I think he felt I was ignoring him.

"No matter what?" Lydia asked with a bit more clarity. Her body leaned toward mine. I was her glue.

"Yes," I said. I never took my eyes off hers. I saw her apprehension fading which caused me to smile. She smiled back. It was her friendly, inviting smile. We were almost there.

"I think I am going to have to end..." I interrupted the good doctor before his therapy screwed up my girl for life.

"Shut the fuck up!" I ordered with venom. I was wearing my 'I'll-rip-off-your-ears' face when I turned toward him. Surprisingly, he shut the fuck up. I returned with my smile back to Lydia. She had crawled fully onto the coach and was inching toward me. I made no move toward her. I waited.

"No matter what?" she repeated as she inched even closer. Her smile and eyes changed to a more forceful look. More of her was back. There was only one more thing to say.

"Yes, Mistress." I put everything I had into those two words. I heard the doctor gasp. Lydia surged forward and into my arms. Her eyes were alive again. She nuzzled her cheek next to mine.

"I need to tie you up, restrain you," she whispered. I could feel her need for control. She had lost so much in the last two months.

"There's a hardware store a couple miles down the road." I was committed. She was worth everything.

"I might hurt you." She was almost sobbing when she said this. She cradled my head in her hands and looked at me with wet eyes. She was tormented with the need to fully control me and the need to love me. All I saw was the love.

I reached up and pulled at the collar of my t-shirt, almost ripping it, to expose my left breast. An elaborate tattoo spelling out 'Lydia's' was above my heart. Intricate art, born from hours of pain. I desired her beyond reason and would accept whatever she needed from me. I welcomed it.

Lydia stood up smartly and looked at the doctor with disdain, "I'm leaving, Doctor." The bitch was back. The doctor wisely just nodded. I think I spotted a bit of fear in his eyes.

It took us less than fifteen minutes to make our exit. The normal anal packing was ignored in favor of the stuffing method. When she zipped her suitcase something crossed her mind and she looked at me with serious eyes.

"Is it okay if we never talk about my family?" she asked. She didn't like the 'touchy-feely' approach to healing either.

"I would prefer if we never talked about them," I answered. I cursed the day I had met her brother and I suspected the rest of her family would suck as well. Lydia smiled and grabbed the hair on the back of my head and pulled my lips to hers. I felt her strength in the kiss and it traveled directly to my groin. She pulled my lips away and pointed at her suitcase. I smiled and picked it up.

"I'll hurt you because I need to. I won't deny you," Lydia said with a wicked smile, "we need to stop and pick up some lipstick." It had been two months since I had had an erection. My cock was making up for lost time. "I love that I do that to you," she purred as she glanced between my legs.

The night was exquisite.