Page 5 of Save Us

I growl loudly before pulling out and releasing myself all over her back, causing nameless to groan out loud when she comes all over my fingers as I rub her to finish. Beth now looks at me from my side as the woman collapses to the mattress, obviously feeling both satisfied and beat.

“It’s weird how you never see me coming during these little hookups, Xander Fenton. It’s like I do all the work but never get the happy ending!” she smiles as she whispers in my ear, and I can almost feel her breath tickling my cheek.

“I could say the same about my life at the moment,” I mutter back before I can stop the words leaking out of me, then mentally hit myself for being such a selfish prick. I sheepishly look at Beth who is still standing beside me, and I instantly know she’s pissed. With her arms crossed and a stern look on her face, she steps back from me with anger radiating from her cute, little body.

“You have a life, Xander! You have a beautiful daughter, and you have friends and family,” she says quietly, bitterly, before stepping in to press her lips to my cheek. “Don’t ever say those words out loud again.”

“I’m sorry,” I whisper before reaching out to kiss her more deeply. The type of kiss I miss so much, it makes me physically ache to be without her. Just like she always did, she reaches around my neck and explores my mouth with her tongue, emitting little gasps every now and then that make me miss her even more. My cock begins to thicken as I try to grip onto her for dear life.

“Stay!”

“You know I can’t,” she replies so sadly, and so quietly, it makes me want to bleed. Instead, all I can feel are hot tears against my skin, and it breaks me. “I love you.”

“Wow, big boy!” The blond giggles as she turns to face me. I keep my eyes firmly shut, for I already know Beth won’t be there when I open them again. “Are you crying?”

“I gotta go,” I eventually reply when I force my lids to open, only to see her face turning to thunder within an instant. I’ve lost count of the number of slaps I’ve received off women like this one, all of them deserved, all of them numb.

“What?!” she hisses through her clenched teeth. “You asshole!”

“Yeah,” I shrug without argument but continue to pick up my strewn clothes so I can finish getting dressed. “It’s my kid’s birthday and she is infinitely more important than both you and I combined. So, sorry, but I’m outta here.”

I guess I really am an asshole!

Chapter 2

Beth

Shame is still running through my veins after having to help Oliver come to climax inside of the white, non-descript private room of the clinic. A clinic which he’s paid a hefty sum for. Now we are waiting with bated breath for his test results. Well, he is. As for me, I couldn’t care less and have completely switched off to the surroundings around me. It’s how I feel ninety-nine percent of the time, like a robot that Oliver only turns to life when he needs me to fulfill his sexual demands. He doesn’t need my voice unless it’s to compliment him, praise him, or help turn him on. I really am a silent doll to be looked at, played with, and abused.

Every now and then, hopeful couples walk in and out of the entrance hall, all with a look of optimism on their faces; to one day produce life with each other and to live happily ever after. The first time I came inside of this place, I felt sick. I even had to excuse myself to go and retch up in the toilets down the corridor before slumping over the basin and crying so hard, Oliver later punished me for having bloodshot eyes when I returned. I must have looked horrified when I came face to face with the wall of baby pictures that greeted me as success stories. Not because I resent any of those happy couples, but because my happily ever after was stolen away from me. I felt like a lost soul from a fucked-up fairy tale, whereby my ending was less Disney and more Brothers Grimm.

I now focus on a damaged poster in front of me, hanging on the white wall with a ripped corner that no one seems to notice or be bothered by. All the while we wait, Oliver reads the morning news on his tablet. As he swipes through the pages, he occasionally mutters an obscenity, emits a soft laugh, or rubs his hand along my thigh. At one moment, he presses his lips into the curve of my neck, to which I shut my eyes in despair. My stomach turns no matter what he does.

“Mr and Mrs Lawrence?” a greying man calls from outside his office, which is directly ahead of us.

Oliver stands as soon as he looks up, then pulls me with him before I even have a chance to do so by myself. The doctor offers a warm and friendly smile as he gestures us into his office. Once we’re inside, he shuts his door and points to the chairs in front of his desk; the ones where thousands of couples have sat, desperately waiting to hear positive news. I bet no one has been hoping to hear what I want him to say, that Oliver is sterile. That he won’t be able to produce an heir inside of me, no matter how hard, or how many times he tries.

“Please, take a seat,” he says robotically.

More nameless baby faces stare back at us from behind his desk and it makes me shiver, like their little blank expressions are telling me they know exactly what I gave up all those years ago. I could argue I had no choice, but it doesn’t make me feel any less guilty for leaving my child to grow up without her mother. Nor does it ease the gut wrenching feeling I get every time I think of how I left Xander to believe I’m dead.

“The good news is Mr Lawrence has completely normal sperm and count.” He looks up from his notes and grins, as though his news should make us all beaming smiles and relieved hugs. Upon his inspection, however, his smile drops almost instantly. Oliver, because he is all about results, and yet we still have no baby and no answers, which only serves to piss him off. Me, because I have been conditioned to not give much of a reaction other than what Oliver allows me to. Me also because the thought of producing a child with Oliver is almost as heartbreaking as having to pretend that the child I did have doesn’t exist.

“So, what now?” Oliver snaps with as much restraint as he is able, trying really hard to rein in his temper.

“The next step is to have your wife examined,” the doctor replies matter of factly. “I’ve seen from her medical notes that she had a baby when she was eighteen-”

“That is strictly private!” Oliver utters in a threatening manner.

“Of course,” the doctor says, putting up his hands defensively, “however, it was a traumatic birth was it not? Placenta previa, a c-section and post-natal…stress?” he states methodically, looking over the top of his glasses to read the notes before him.

When he looks back up, I’m surprised when his gaze comes to me for answers. I am so used to people completely by-passing me and looking straight to Oliver for any kind of response, that at first, I remain passive, as though I’m not even here. Eventually, my mouth falls open to say something, but no sound comes out. Oliver is strict about keeping my whereabouts and personal details private, and I know what will be in store for me if I give anything remotely damning away. However, in the end, the situation becomes so intense, with me desperately not wanting to ignite Oliver’s wrath, I simply nod my head once in answer to him.

“Well, Angela, I think it might be worth checking things out, don’t you think?” he smiles, but I simply look to my lap before nodding again. “Great, how does next week sound?”

Angela.

For five years I’ve been called this name, one that isn’t mine, and I still feel no connection to it. Even though it is now recorded on every official document there is to do with me, it still feels alien to be called this name.