Broken

"I don't..." think you are broken, I would have said but she clamped her thighs tightly around my chest stopping me mid sentence. I let her go on.

"My dad, he was a really good dad. He loved me. He didn't mean to hurt me like he did. He was just trying to be a good dad. He bought me these cute little dresses that we always too small. 'Don't worry, another couple of weeks and weight watchers will have you in it.' It was always weight watchers or some new diet he saw on TV. There was always a plan. He wanted me to be happy. I weighed the same 240 then that I weigh now except I was short. Well, shorter. I didn't fit into desks. I ran off. I was eighteen, I couldn't take another meeting with a counselor, doctor, or dietician. I couldn't take another look from my father. There was so much sadness in his eyes. I came out here. I was broke. I was hungry, shit, you would have thought I would lose some weight, right? Nope. I had to eat. I was about three days from living on the streets. I was in this shitty hotel downtown. I paid cash by the week. The guy that was staying next door could help me out. He handed me five hundred bucks and I went inside with him."

You think you want to know until you are finding out and then even though you will listen it hurts. I didn't think less of her. I don't know if she understood that. I don't know if she was capable of understanding that. I had to let go of her ass. I wrapped my arms around her waist. I would have moved up further but she stopped me, gripping me in the leg lock she had put me in.

"I figured he wanted to fuck for money. I wasn't a virgin. It wasn't easy to be a slut, not fat like I was, but you know, there is always a horny dork out there somewhere and I had found plenty of them. The guy, he was older, he was better looking, I figured for five hundred I would do what he wanted. He wanted to film it. I didn't mind. I was broken already, ya know? I let him."

"You don't..." have to tell me. I would have said but again, she stopped me.

He used those little cameras, you know, like skateboarders use? He had like five of them set up. He had redecorated the shitty hotel room himself. It was a lot nicer than mine. At first it was just him, then it was him and a buddy. There were other girls sometimes most of them built just like me. Roll them in flower and look for the wet spot, you know? I didn't know I was growing. We did drugs. I always wonder if it was the week or the speed that did it but I just fucking shot up. They loved it. They just kept paying me and I just kept fucking. They started to pay me more. We changed hotels, I think we had to, something about the cops and one of the girls having a fake ID but we changed hotels and I had enough money to buy a phone. It's so funny. I surfed porn for tips. It had never struck me I was making porn. I really, honest to god, thought they made the movies for themselves. I found my page. It was under my real fucking name. Two Ton Tessa. Google it. I was listed both under a BBW site and an Amazon site. The ones of me wrestling the hot little hookers they hired are pretty hot."

I had resolved not to interrupt her so when she paused we laid there for a long time. I held her still but her body had gone heavy. It was like holding a corpse.

"I can't marry you, Andy."

There was another long pause.

"I can't love you."

I thought about that. You know, I still think about that. Not I don't love you, I can't love you. Most times when you break up, your heart breaks a little but it breaks for you. You are hurt because you weren't loved. Holding Tessa and listing to the rain that had started outside my heart broke for her.

"I hate you, Andy. I get up at night and hear you breathing and I just want to smother you. Fuck. I've planned worse. I poisoned you once. I didn't use rat poison, or it probably would have worked. I used those roach traps you bought. I cracked them open and put the little orange chunks into the jalapeno poppers, remember how sick you got. You thought it was because they were too hot. That was the poison. God, its good you can't buy a gun here, ya know. I think about that all the time."

I just held her tighter. She didn't mean it. She wanted me to go. I was going to. I realized I had to. It was just hard.

"I suppose I don't have YOU. I think I just hate, I don't know, everyone? It's not just men. I mean, in that fucking little shithole there were plenty of women. Not just girls, I mean women. MILF fucks a sitter. They didn't help. None of them were like, hey, do you know what's really going on here. Do you know that while you sleep in this shithole little hotel this fucker drives that shitbox old Nissan across town to a giant fucking palace to upload shots of your cream-pied asshole? They were getting a grand for a half hours work. I was fucking three guys and two chicks for six hours a day for five hundred a week and a fix."

I tried to get up. I wanted to get dressed. I wanted her to get dressed. I wanted to move out to the couch and put on some music and just hold her and listen to the rain. She didn't let me. She held me there with her legs wrapped around me. I suppose I appreciated the intimacy of it.

"So yeah. Its not men. I was a lesbian once. For like six months. She was the one that found this place. She was a pretty little thing. Fuck, you would come all over yourself watching us. I know, Google it, dudes fucking love an Amazon raping the shit out of some little cheerleader type. She got me on Instagram, got me hooked on Agent Provocateur. She introduced me to Thai. She wanted to get married too. Fuck, she just like, snapped in two. I didn't fucking expect it. I like, expected her to fight or some shit. Nope. She just fucking snapped."

I am a Sports Physiologist. I analyze the moment of the human body, how it can move and how it should move. As an example I used three-dimensional imaging to analyze RG3 and showed him how to drop back and plant without putting lateral strain on his repaired ligaments. He went off the deep end mentally before he ever got to demonstrate what I showed him but if he does ever land somewhere he is going to be able to drop back and release an 80 yard bomb and take a hit from the side without ending his career. I saw this because I should have been aware of the position she had been moving into. I didn't though. A normal person never would. I think it's the same as when they talk about "a good guy with a gun," not being about to stop one of those mass shooting events. A normal person, even a redneck, does not understand when serious shit is going on around them. Their brain is trained to focus on the way things should happen, not how they are happening. It's a different branch of sports medicine than what I am into but there are people that work with this shit. A quarterback gets used to the rush coming from the A and C gaps and a good linebacker slips through the middle and picks up a sack but because he is faster or smarter or anything but just because the quarterback has been conditioned not to expect it. I did not expect to be in the situation I was so my brain had not processed it. My brain was cuddling and was enjoying it.

She had while she talked moved her hands behind her to where mine were resting, extended and bent over my head. I had been enjoying the way she was returning my hug by holding my hands without realizing she was holding them in place. We call it diminished response, you would say my arms had gone to sleep. When I tried to pull them out, they didn't move, they just sort of twitched. When they did she quickly gripped my wrists and pulled. She had me at a disadvantage and now I couldn't move them at all. The muscles in her thighs flinched. It was sexually arousing, I know, gross, but they were great thighs. I still believed she was being playful. I thought it was very much like her to lessen the emotional tension that had built up by moving immediately into a session of vigorous fucking.

"I wanted her to suffocate. I wanted it to be like that Russian bad guy in that James Bond movie that kills by suffocating with her thighs but Ariana just snapped. I think I broke her back. You aren't going to break on me, are you Andy?"

Xena Onyatopov. She was hot. Fuck Tessa was strong. Her legs were wrapped around my chest. I felt the pressure. It was pretty tight. I still couldn't move my arms but I could breathe okay. "Tessa." I said quietly. She didn't respond, she just gripped tighter, squeezing my chest.

I tried to pull away from her again. She responded my pulling my arms tighter and clenching her legs together, she locked her calves and formed a vice. I grew concerned. I pulled in a deep breath. She flexed, grunting a little.

I wasn't prepared to hit a girl. I figured if I took things to the next level I could push myself up to all fours. I didn't like where her heel dug into my groin and expected she would take advantage of my weakness. It would hurt. it wouldn't be a fatal blow though. If I got to standing, pure intimidation would be enough to get me out of this. I forced another deep breath and then went limp. I held my breath and she gripped and squeezed and grunted and pulled my arm. Theoretically a person can hold their breath for two minutes. Any person. The need to breath before the two-minute mark is the brain freaking out, not the actual physical need for air. I have made it a minute forty-three in the pool. I just relaxed and felt for movements from her. Her thighs began to shake, just a little. It was muscle exhaustion. I could wait.

She let go of my arms. I began to slowly release air from my nose. This is what bought me the forty-three. The hardest thing was not to move my hands. Knowing she had let go I wanted to pull them free but I waited. I was at a minute and a half and I counted. Thirty-six, thirty-seven, thirty-eight.

Her strong hands, insanely strong hands despite the expensively manicured nails, now wrapped around my throat sealing my windpipe. Fuck. I had not planned on that. Again, people do not expect the unexpected or it wouldn't be unexpected, now would it. Her body curled up almost into a ball. A muscle is forty percent stronger pulling than pushing and pulling your body into a ball is the strongest it can get. That's how Xena did it in the fucking movie too.

It was dark despite my eyes being open and I knew the lamp was on. I had twelve seconds, maybe less. I had done some work for the Navy too until I realized what sick motherfuckers they were.

I did not have pins and needles. You know how your leg tingles when it's been asleep but then you stand up and the blood comes back. There wasn't enough oxygen left to create the sensation. I didn't have the strength or time to fight back and instead moved my fingers to just below her ribcage where I just barely wiggled them rapidly on her skin. She tensed a little, then her whole body shook and then entirely inappropriately she began to giggle and she released my throat to tug my hand away. She had very early on in our relationship stated that tickling was off-limits and although I too it as playful banter I stopped when she hit me with her alarm clock on night when I had tickled that very spot. For a brief moment she thrashed and I sucked in air. I wasn't in the clear yet. When she was done thrashing she had positioned herself straddling my face, her hands locked around my wrists. She wasn't just strong but also, I now knew for certain, heavier than only of the dudes I lifted with at the gym. The realization that if I didn't get serious in a hurry she I was going to die suffocated by a pussy was not the type of thing you wanted your last thought to be. I pulled at my arms again in vain, her grip was simply too strong. I didn't want to but I was at a point of last resort. I bit her.

She squealed and her body bounced on top of me. I got a short blast of air before her ass again was pressed to my mouth and nose. I bit again. I didn't want to but I held on, some fold of skin clenched in my teeth.

"Fuck yeah. You get blood? Get blood motherfucker. Do some damage. Get me off just as you fucking die, motherfucker. See how much you Loooooove me then." she snarled at me. She dug her nails into my wrists just to show she was serious.

So yeah, I did. I fucking bit down. This is fucking gross but I took a fucking bite. I think I swallowed it reflexively. She just fucking squealed louder and started to ride me like we were fucking. God damn it. I just wanted to marry her and take care of her. I figured we would adopt some little Chinese girl or black kid from the inner city or maybe both. I wanted a golden fucking retriever. I didn't care if she was broken. I liked her broken. My truck is broken. The right front quarter panel is beat to shit from almost rolling it one afternoon out in the woods. God damn it.

I rocked three times in pace with her movements as she tried to get off while suffocating me. On the third I lifted my legs and performed the single strongest crunch of my life. In Yoga I think its called the plow but I hadn't done yoga since I had started up with Tessa and I had forgotten the names of most of the moves. My heels locked just in front of her face. My toes caught her in the eyes. She was wounded just enough that when I rocked back, pulling at her head with the force of my legs she rolled with me. Agile and strong in her own right she fought even as our bodies rolled to release herself. At the "near-apex" of the maneuver, what we called the point where your muscles are prepared she release their greatest force propelling the ball or javelin, or hapless offensive lineman onto a preplanned trajectory she straightened her legs. She launched, just exactly as she should have, onto a predetermined trajectory. I hadn't planned it specifically, not any more specific than one away from the orifices I needed to pull oxygen into, and I wasn't sure where she had landed until I had sucked in enough air to sit up and look.

She had bought a hideous early eighties bookshelf at the goodwill. It was glass and gold chrome and she loved it. She had filled it with shit. Porcelain dogs and a little model sailing ship and a red wig she liked to wear to clubs. I hadn't heard her hit it or it collapse into assorted shards of un-tempered glass. "Damn" I said. I didn't hear my own voice. I was still recovering from a lack of oxygen to the brain. I thought for a moment to get up and check for a pulse but decided against it based on the volume of blood pouring out around her from where the giant pieces of glass had pierced her. As I looked at her I came to realize the one in her chest was not sticking into her but rather through her. That was when I vomited. When my stomach was empty I rolled over across the bed and used my phone to call 911. I guessed at the address, I had been here enough to forget the precise number. It was apartment 465 I told her. She said a squad car had already been dispatched, a neighbor had called. She asked if an ambulance was needed. I told her not anymore. She had a bunch of questions after that. I didn't answer them I just let the phone drop to the bed. I fetched my jeans from the floor. They were on the side of the bed not covered in blood.

The patrol officers had knocked on the door and I let them in. They both had their weapons drawn. I lay on the floor cooperatively as they entered. I was saved from handcuffs when the male officer walked into the bedroom and gasped "Jesus Christ." I didn't move. It was only a matter of seconds before the paramedics arrived. It was the whole fire station. I hadn't been very specific. Two EMT's tackled Tessa pulling her body from the mess. They began CPR but only pressed once on her chest sending a fountain of blood up out of the gaping hole in her lungs. I saw all of this because two firemen had begun administering to me.

"Fucking A, she's huge." One of them said. "Like moving a whole fucking hog."

"Don't say that." I muttered softly. I drew their attention and remembered my manners. "Please."

The EMT's stopped working on her and moved to me. When the detectives arrived they couldn't believe I wasn't in cuffs. The pretty red headed paramedic pointed out the bruises around my neck and wrists and the broken capillaries in my eyes. They let me sit at her little dining room table and sip at a bottle of water. The detectives were questioning me, or more specifically, pointing out that what I did was technically man slaughter but could be considered murder if there are signs I had planned it. The cute red head, a bit plump herself, brought me a blanket and stroked my back after placing it around my shoulders. She told them to back the fuck off. She knew one of them by name they were cousins or something.

CSI techs were the next to arrive. They began to tear her little place apart. It was hard to watch. I had loved her forty five minutes ago. The paramedic continued to argue with the detective about whether or not I needed to be locked away or nursed back to health. I watched distractedly as if it was all a TV show, one I didn't like very much. One of the techs was showing the nicer of the two detectives a leather bound journal. Occasionally they would look up at me. I wondered how prominently I featured in it. A second tech came out of the bedroom, this one holding a knife that looked more like a machete. It was apparently in the nightstand.

"She really wanted to strangle you. You are lucky." Said the nice detective. If she knew all she had to do was drive four miles into Maryland to get a gun, you'da been toast."

The detectives debated for a while before I was released into the paramedics care. She wanted to take me to the hospital, I convinced her to let them drive me home. We rode in the back, she and I, and she gave me eye-drops and oxygen. I dug the oxygen. Her name is Sherry. She likes to say she stops by to check on me but we usually end up going out for pizza or beers or something. She doesn't wear $400 bras. Most of the time when she isn't in uniform she doesn't wear a bra at all. I like it.

I did look up Tessa. I took off my safe search and found her pages quickly. I didn't watch all of her videos or even all of even just one. I scanned them though. It's frightening how enthusiastic she was in them. You never would have thought there was any sort of coercion going on at all. She was just a freak who liked to do it all. Occasionally I would freeze it on a frame of just her face and it would make me sad how really pretty she was.

There was a service. I was there alone. Her parents were there together. They seemed like normal people. Her mom was tall but not like Tessa was. Her father didn't say a word. He looked at me once. I was sure somewhere along the way they had been told some part of the story. There wasn't anyone else there. No perverted pornographers or friends. Followers don't show up at funerals.

It was almost a full year later that Sherry and I, having been an "item" for a while were sitting naked in our spa. We had pooled our money to buy a house. It wasn't a difficult decision, it wasn't a hard conversation to have, it just made sense. Rent was high, rates were low, we could get a yard and a dog. We ended up with the yard, the dog, and a six person tub with a light feature. Her pale skin glowed pink and green and blue and purple as the lights changed and I was smiling at her.

"Sher', are you broken?" I asked her.

"God yes."

"How?"

"Me? God, well, I'm bulimic. Yeah, I sneak off and barf if we go out to a big dinner. I take the whole nurturing thing to an unhealthy level, you are not the first guy I packed up on a call, you are just the first one I picked up at a murder scene. I don't talk to my sister because she is a whore who married my fiancé. I am never going to completely trust you. I've never broken up with a guy. Every single one of them broke up with me and I know it's a matter of time. I probably wont ever introduce you to my sister."