He stood with his back to her. Finally, he looked back at her and the sadness in his eyes ripped her apart. "Seems like you're not the only one with a problem. You be good to yourself." He left.

"Wait," Kim struggled. She gripped the rail of the bed and pressed the b.u.t.ton to make it lift. She was in so much pain, but losing him was more than she could bear. "Where are you going?"

The door closed.

"Mathew!" she croaked, "I'm sorry! Don't go! MATHEW!"

Madness.

Chapter Twenty-Four.

Undone Simone She hadn't slept. It only took one night for her world to come undone. Simone wondered if it would take just as long to find her way again and if she'd ever close her eyes and not wake to some new incomprehensible catastrophe beyond repair. Strangling with doubt, regret, loss and pain, she sat on the sofa. Where was the news on Kim? Last night her mom called and said that she was out of the woods. The babies were with Anne. Diane offered to stay with Kim until she got there. Her mother sounded so depressed. G.o.d help her. When did it all go so wrong?

She blamed him, herself, the world. Simone wiped at the loose tear making a slow run down her cheek. Her eyes shot up at the sound of movement. She stood, staring at the ceiling. He was upstairs dressing, going about this day as if the last never happened. In her hand was the phone, again. Last thing her mother said was that Kim was awake but not talking. She had to get to her. Only she could reach Kim when Dennis died. She was the one to bring her out of her shock and make her face her pain. So she thought.

The door closed. He was coming down the hall. Simone put down the phone and picked up a different butcher knife. She had left the other upstairs in his room.

She hadn't seen him since he attacked her on the same bed he used to make love to her on. She sniffed, swiped her bang from her forehead, smoothing her hand back over her new cut. She held the knife behind her back. She listened. He walked down the hall, and then the stairs. She could envision each step, one after another. She rehea.r.s.ed this very moment two hours ago. She wouldn't do anything to agitate him, or tip him off. She'd play the role of his mousey wife to get to her sister and to keep her and her sister's lives together until she found a way to blow the b.a.s.t.a.r.d's world apart.

He stopped in the foyer, then turned and came through the living room, looking to the right. Looking at her.

"Hey, babe," he said.

"Kim's sick. I need to go home. She's in the hospital," Simone said in a broken whisper. She cleared her throat, straightened her back and looked him in the eye, all the while squeezing the handle of the knife. She rubbed her thumb up and down the blade, sending her internal pain and conflict to that focal point.

"Sick? How do you know?" He looked to the phone, a question in his eyes. They lifted to hers with what she a.s.sumed was his attempt at being concerned. "Will she be okay?"

"No. She's sick!"

Keith glared at her. Her bottom lip quivered. She drew it in between her teeth and breathed out of her nose. "I'm sa-sorry. I shouldn't have yelled. No, she isn't okay. She's in the hospital."

Keith stared.

How was she going to pull this off? She couldn't look at him and not want to scream. She closed her eyes and pressed the pad of her finger into the blade until the cool steel sliced the tender flesh of her thumb. Hot searing pain spider-webbed through her hand up into her wrist. She reopened her eyes.

He was closer.

When did that happen? G.o.d help me, but if he comes any closer, I will lose it.

"You don't look well," he said calmly. "Maybe we should call someone for you to talk to."

"Like the police?" Her brows lowered into a painful crease.

He rolled his eyes. "Funny, Simone. You know what I mean."

Simone smiled. "I'm fine, Keith. Don't start that s.h.i.t. I just want to go to New York, go home. She's at Mercy Hospital if you don't believe me. h.e.l.l, call and check. I need you to give me access to my accounts so I can leave this afternoon. There's a flight out at two. It'll get me right in La Guardia. Besides, I don't think I can drive back. I'm not in that state of mind."

"No. I'll call mother. She'll go and check on her. We can try to leave next weekend, maybe."

Simone drew back, instead of plunging the knife forward. Her eyes narrowed, her chest rose and fell rapidly with heavy breaths. Keith cut her down with a hard look. "We'll talk about this tonight. Maybe you can convince me to change my mind. Besides, we have our own problems, and until we resolve them, you aren't going anywhere. Understand?" he asked in his usual authoritative tone, as if she was some untrained puppy that had to be reminded to stay on the paper.

Before she could respond, he turned on his heel and dismissed the matter entirely. She watched as he walked out the front door. Blood slipped down the back of her robe, dripping like crimson rain to the hardwood floor. The door closed. She threw the knife. It hit the wall like a warrior's blade, piercing the plaster. She shook with rage, but couldn't move from that very spot. She just stood there staring at the door. Simone didn't know how long she stood there. Minutes, maybe four or five ticked by before the haze thinned by a soft knock. If it weren't for the persistence of the one who knocked, she may have never moved again.

Walking on legs that didn't feel like her own, she went to the door. Almost robotically, she reached for it, finally noticing the blood in her hand as it smeared the door handle. She opened it to face Cain.

"Hey, I know I shouldn't have come, but I needed to talk to you," Cain said.

His smile soon faded. His eyes dropped to her hand and then lifted. Simone stepped back and he entered. This she couldn't handle. Not him too. Not now. She wanted him gone. He stepped toward her, saying something. His lips were moving fast. But she heard nothing. It was then she realized she was screaming. She couldn't stop.

Cain reached for her, just as she turned to escape him. He was quick. Gathering her into his arms, he held her from behind. She was pushed hard up against his chest. He crossed her arms to the front of her and kept her close. It was the best he could do with her fighting to push him off. She was shaking all over and screaming. Her screams were killing him, piercing his skull, shredding his heart. He kicked the door shut behind him. He couldn't tell where the blood was coming from. There was blood all over her hand, to the front of her housecoat, the back.

"Simone? Sweetheart, I need you to-" he turned her, "-hey, look at me. Simone, where are you hurt? Did Keith do this? Did he?" Her head dropped forward. She shook it, avoiding his eyes, no matter how he fought to regain her trust.

"f.u.c.k this!"

Cain swept her up in his arms despite her protests and carried her upstairs. Halfway up, she stopped fighting. She held to him, shivering. All bets were off. He was going to kill Keith Livingston with his bare hands.

"Put me down, Cain...put me down," she said as they entered the bedroom. "NO! Not on the bed! Don't put me on that bed!"

He stopped, confused. She fought him off, forcing him to let her stand. "I'm-I'm fine."

"The h.e.l.l you are."

She went around him to the bathroom and he followed. From the doorway he watched as she fumbled with the cabinets, knocking over pill bottles with a trembling hand, favoring the other. He came in and touched her shoulder. Simone flinched. "What did he do?"

"An accident. It was an accident."

"Then why can't you look at me?"

She found the peroxide, opened the bottle and poured it over her cut. It was her thumb and the cut was deep. Simone groaned a soft sorrowful moan.

"s.h.i.t! This looks bad. I need to get you to the hospital for st.i.tches," he said, taking her hand. He inspected the wound. "Does it hurt?"

"No," she said, nibbling at her bottom lip. Her eyes weepy, swollen, she looked up at him concealing nothing. She was in pain. A lot of it.

"Tell me the truth. What happened here?" he said again. "Please."

"It's my sister... she's in a bad way."

He walked her to the toilet, lowered the lid and sat her there. He kissed her forehead and wiped her tears. The first thing he wanted to mend was her thumb, to dress it and then get her to Emergency.

He located some gauze and began to wrap her wound. "Go on."

"She overdosed. Last night."

"Is she-?"

"She's alive. They pumped her stomach. My mother kept telling me she was in trouble. Even Anne mentioned it, but I was so caught up with my stupid marriage. This is my fault."

"No it's not. None of it. But you're right. She needs you and you need her. What time were you leaving?" Cain asked.

She didn't answer. He glanced up again. "What time are you leaving?"

"Keith said no."

Her answer sounded so foreign coming from the s.p.u.n.ky confident woman he saw last night. The woman he held in his arms and danced with in his bathroom could give a s.h.i.t what her husband thought.

"If I go, then he'll make things worse for Kim. She's in the hospital. She's hooked on drugs, trying to hang on. She can't lose her case to the State or her house now. If I go, he'll do something. I know he will."

"You're going!"

"Cain? He has all the power," Simone said weakly.

"Get dressed," he said rising, her thumb effectively covered. He ran his hand back through his hair. He realized her blood was on his fingers. He went to the sink and turned on the tap to rinse. "Shower and pack. I'm taking you to the airport. I'll give you money. Enough money, whatever money you need."

Simone slowly rose. She walked over to him. "You'd do that for me? Risk that for me?"

"You don't listen very well, do you? Do you? I love you, Simone." He touched her face and leaned in to kiss her. She flinched again. It was slight. Her lips relaxed under his but he felt it. Drawing away he searched her eyes. Something else was wrong. "How did you cut your hand?"

She dropped her eyes.

"Did he hurt you? Don't protect him."

"I'm not protecting him. This isn't about protecting him. I'm protecting her, you, all of us! Don't you get that?"

"No, sweetheart, because I don't need protection from that motherf.u.c.ker! If he put a hand on you, it'll be his a.s.s. I promise you that!"

She looked away.

"Did he hit you?" Cain demanded.

She didn't have to answer. He could feel it. He felt it last night. He hit her again, like he did before. Cut her with a knife. "The f.u.c.king cowardly b.a.s.t.a.r.d. I'll kill him!"

"No," she said, shaking her head. "He can't know about us, Cain. Please." She nearly fell over her own shuffling feet as she rounded him to block him from leaving the bathroom. "Please, don't say anything. I'll leave him. I can't stay here with him another night, I know this." Her eyes went past him to the room. He looked back over his shoulder at the crumpled sheets jumbled up on the mattress. She turned his face back to hers before his mind connected another dot. She grabbed the back of his neck and brought his face down to hers, initiating the kiss. Strong, but sweet, she threw her arms around his neck and held on. Returning the tongue action with just as much urgency, he lifted her to the basin, a natural reaction from touching her again. His legs parted hers so he could fit between as he hungrily nipped at her lips and sucked on her tongue, forcing her housedress up to her waist. She put a hand to his chest blocking their pa.s.sion from going further. "Don't. I can't do that. Not here and not now. I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize to me," he groaned, pulling her housedress back down "I'm sorry too." He cupped her face and looked into her eyes. The last thing she needed was him f.u.c.king her against the sink. "Shower, get dressed, and we'll leave."

"What about work? Maryanne's next door."

"She left early for Paris, and to h.e.l.l with work. I'm not leaving your side again until I know you're safe."

Simone smiled. "You're my hero."

"Not quite. But I like pretending to be."

Cain walked back down the stairs, curling up his sleeve to the bend of his elbow. He hurt all over, mainly his heart. And he wanted Keith Livingston dead. Whatever went down after the party left her shattered. Each time he pondered the why's and the how's, he grew more desperate, angrier. He heard fear in her voice. Keith Livingston used her emotions against her to control her. When he was done with the b.a.s.t.a.r.d; he'd know fear of a different kind.

The doorbell chimed just as he hit the final step. Simone was upstairs in the shower so who was at the door? Maybe he should let it ring.

"Simone! It's Joan! Get your a.s.s out here! I got news!" she finger punched the doorbell repeatedly.

Joan? He looked back up the stairs, remembering that Simone mentioned Joan would help. He went to the door and opened it. Her smile immediately faded. She rushed inside, closing the door behind her. "What the f.u.c.k are you doing here?" she asked. Cain didn't have a chance to respond. "Where's Simone? Keith? s.h.i.t, s.h.i.t! Why are you in here?"

"She's in the shower."

"Jesus, Mary, Joseph! I told her to drop this thing with you. Now you two are burning up the sheets in her house? With your wife next door! What? Do you not like your b.a.l.l.s, Cain Gatlin? I know when princess tells daddy he'll use them to tee off."

"Are you done?" Cain asked.

"Are you? I told her no more of this," Joan said.

"Wait, you told her what?"

"I told her to break it off!" Joan pushed past him, storming into the living room. She tossed her purse to the sofa. Cain hadn't realized that Simone and Joan were that close. Close enough for her to confide in her the details of their affair? That was risky. Joan was one of his wife's friends. When he walked in behind her, he found her standing in the middle of the living room with a confused look on her face. He turned to see where she stared.

It was a knife. A very large knife was in the wall.

"What the f.u.c.k? Is that blood on that thing?" Joan asked.

Cain walked over. It was true. The blade and handle did have blood on it. "Yes? Yes."

"Why is it in the wall?" Joan looked around "What happened here?" She stopped and pointed. There was blood and specks of blood in small puddles on the floor. She put a hand to her mouth "Where's Simone?" she demanded. Cain stood there staring at the knife. His memory flashed to her at the door with her hand cut and the way she shivered in his arms. The tears, the fear in her eyes all became clear. He was just next door and she was being tortured?

"Where is she?"

"Shower." He squeezed the knife tightly in his hand. "I don't know what happened to her."

"I plan to find out." Joan rushed past him toward the stairs. She stopped and pointed a finger at him. "You need to go. Go home, now!"

"I'm not going anywhere. If she told you about us, then you need to know this. I love her!"

"Well that and your d.i.c.k will get her nothing but more of that." Joan pointed at the knife. She turned and marched up the stairs. Cain looked down at the knife. His jaw clenched.

The shower was what she needed even though, she'd taken two prior to Keith waking and Cain coming over. She just needed to shower again to wash it all away. This time, with Cain downstairs and protectively watching her, she felt as if she finally did. Walking out of the steamy bathroom into her bedroom, she chilled with just the towel wrapped around her. Simone picked up her robe, slipping it on. To her back, she heard the door to the bedroom open after a soft knock. She smiled to herself.

"I'm feeling better. Much better," she sighed.

She didn't look back. She a.s.sumed Cain couldn't stay away any longer. Part of her wished he didn't. She pulled too hard on her sash and winced. Her hand hurt something awful. She cradled it to her chest and went over to the bed.