3. Chapter 3
Chapter 3
Ginny
“What is this place?”
I look around at the open area with a cabin sitting in the middle. Trees surround the plot, but they’re so tall they cover the cabin. Or hide it. I think that might have been the plan. Also, that’s the first thing I’ve said out loud since Joker basically told me he was going to dump me on the side of the road for being a compassionate human being. I don’t understand what he didn’t get about me wanting to make sure Keith was alright. I would have wanted to stop for anyone in that situation, but the fact it was Keith? Or probably him? I know the sexy man scowling at me right now doesn’t see it, but Keith was my end game.
And I’ve walked away.
“Hey, Ginny. You alright?” Joker asks, a hint of concern in his voice.
Am I okay? No! No, I’m not! I just torched my own life. Gave up on something that would have been perfectly fine and walked away.
“What have I done?” I whisper to the heavens.
My breath is coming heavier now. My heart beating so fast, I think I might pass out. Oh, my God, I can’t breathe in this fucking hideous thing Keith called a wedding dress. Oh, no. The world is spinning. I think Joker is talking to me, but he sounds like he’s a million miles away.
I feel him, but I can’t see him. And all of a sudden I’m floating. Carried in strong arms, holding me tight. Oh, no. He can’t carry me.
“Ginny, it’s alright. You’re going to be fine,” I hear his muffled voice say. At least he doesn’t sound like he’s underwater or on the other side of the mountain anymore. “I’ve got you, Beautiful. Just breathe for me, okay?”
“Put me down. You can’t carry me.” I wheeze the words, not entirely sure they were loud enough for him to hear.
“Fuck that.”
“No. Please. Put me down. I can’t—”
“Can’t what?”
“Can’t breathe. Put me down. Put me down now.”
I’m not sure how far we’ve made it inside the place with him carrying me, but he listens to my plea and puts me down just for my knees to give out.
“Whoa. I got you.”
He holds me up, wrapping his arms around me, which isn’t helping.
“I need—I need you to let me go, Joker.”
“But—”
“No. Let me go. Just let me go. I need you to let me go.”
He does as I ask, stepping back, but I feel his hand still on my elbow, ready to catch me if I fall again. As soon as I’m sure my legs will hold me, I step away and start pacing. I’m wringing my arms out, but it’s no use. I can’t fucking breathe.
I claw at my dress, trying to get the ties undone in the back. I know there’s a hidden zipper somewhere, but I can’t reach it and if I untie it, it’ll come loose and I can take it off. I’m suffocating. My chest is closing in on me, crushing my lungs, and I can’t fucking breathe.
I feel my head shaking from side to side, trying to make my brain listen to me. I know I’m having a panic attack. I know if I can just calm down, it’ll stop, and I’ll be able to take a deep breath. But I can’t. I can’t get this dress off and I can’t fucking breathe.
Why did I agree to wear this thing? Why did I let him talk me into being someone I’m not? How did I convince myself that I would be fine with a man like him? Oh, God, what if he’s dead on the side of the road? What if he’s not? How is he going to make my life hell when he finds out I walked out? What is he going to do to my things at home? Oh, no. Where am I going to live? What about my job? Will he find a way to fire me? Make me pay for embarrassing him? Cut my brake lines and watch me die in a fireball when I run into a building because I can’t stop? Fuck! I can’t fucking breathe.
What are my parents going to say to me when we get back? My friends? Is Keith going to track me down in this cabin in the middle of nowhere and kill me? Could he be that mad at me? What if…what if he finds me alone and hurts me instead? I never told anyone about the other times. They don’t know what he’s done to me. How he’s really treated me. And I let him. I let him hurt me. I did that. Because I’m broken. I’m unlovable. It’s what I deserved. And I can’t. Fucking. Breathe!
“Ginny! Virginia!”
Joker. He’s here with me. What does he want? Can’t he see I need help?
“Ginny!” His voice is so commanding. Demanding. “I need you to fucking look at me right now!”
The order. The voice. Deep. Laced with worry and pain? Why’s he worried? Did I hurt him when he was carrying me?
“If you don’t look at me right now, I’m cutting that fucking dress off your body and anything else you have on that looks even remotely tight!”
He wouldn’t. Would he? He can’t! He can’t see me naked. It would turn him off. Just like it did Keith. No one wants to or should see me naked. What did he say? I need to look at him. My eyes, which I’ve been squeezing shut, pop open and look around the room. I can’t keep them in one place. I can’t focus. And do you know why? BECAUSE I CAN’T FUCKING brEATHE!
“Fuck this,” I hear him say.
Is he right in front of me? I close my eyes and try to focus again, but you know what helps with that? A big, deep breath. Which I can’t take, because I can’t fucking breathe!
“Ginny!” His voice tries to get my attention again, but it’s not until he grasps my face and stops my head from shaking side to side that I can even try. My eyes snap open, meeting his dark brown ones full of emotions I’m not capable of dealing with right now. “I’m cutting this fucking dress off of you now!”
“What? No!”
“Yes!”
And then I hear it. The snip-snip sound of scissors. The weight pulling me down falling away. I drop my eyes and watch as the embodiment of everything rotten about the last two years falls away from my body. But I’m not any better. I still can’t inhale a full breath and my chest still feels like it’s caving in and crushing my lungs and my hands are starting to tingle. “Can’t…fucking…breathe!” I cry as loud as I can. Even in my state, I can hear the desperation in my voice. What is wrong with me?
Joker begins pawing me. Is he feeling me up? Now? Nah. That would never happen. But then I feel it. He snips the straps of my shapewear and starts pulling it down my body. Exposing me to him, one inch of skin at a time. Oh, God. Is he looking at me? Will he compare me to a can of biscuits exploding when being released from its can? All of my flaws. On full display. Can this day get any worse?
“No,” I pant. “No. Stop. Don’t look at me,” I cry, squeezing my eyes closed. I can feel the tears running down my face. My mortification complete.
“I’m only helping, Gin. You’ve got to start taking deep breaths for me, okay?” I try, and to my surprise, I’m able to take one. And then another. “That’s it. Easy does it, Beautiful.”
Did he just call me beautiful? Why is he lying? I slowly open my eyes and watch him go down on his knees in front of me, attempting to untie my crinoline skirt so he can continue to pull down the awful binding fabric. He’s going to see my fat. He’s going to see my scar.
“Okay.” I inhale. “I think I can manage from here.”
I try to step away from him, but he reaches out and grabs my thighs, stopping me. “Let me help you. Please.”
“I don’t…Joker. I can’t let you. Please understand.”
Never once does he drop his eyes from mine to my chest. He makes no comment about my boobs or how they aren’t as perky as other women’s. Or how they are too big, or too fat, or too much. No words about how inconvenient they can be or how much of a slob I am when food falls on them. Because let’s face it. You either rest them on the table and lean over or take the risk. Sometimes the risk is messy. Much like my entire life right now. My focus is still shit, but I can’t look away from him now. If I hold eye contact, he can’t look at my body, right? He finally closes his eyes and nods. Standing, he takes my hand and walks me toward a door in the side wall. He opens it into a small bathroom and steps aside so I can enter.
“I’ll be right back,” he quietly tells me before closing me in.
I lean against the closed door and let my head fall against it. Now that I have air moving through my lungs again, I can take stock of everything. Well, not everything. Just the last five minutes. Which makes my chest tighten again, so I stop that. I step into the middle of the room, pulling everything remaining on my body away, including the jewelry I have on. I start to pull the pins out of my updo when there’s a knock at the door.
“I have something for you,” Joker says through the door.
I open it enough to stick my face out and see he’s got a stack of clothes for me.
“Thank you,” I whisper, reaching through the door and taking his offering. “I’ll be out in a minute.”
“Take your time. I’ll be here.”
I close the door and look at the clothes. If they’re his, there’s no way they are going to fit. When I pull the top article of clothing off the stack, it’s a soft men’s shirt. And it looks big enough for me. I pull it over my head and it does, in fact, fit. It’s also super long and hits me on my upper thighs, covering all the bits. It also smells of pine and fresh air. The scent calms me even more, and my muscles that were still locked unknot themselves. The other article is a bathrobe, which I wrap myself up in. I open the door, wondering where I’ll have to look to find Joker, but he’s standing right there, his hands in his pockets, hunched in on himself.
“Are you okay now?” he gently asks, the usual gruffness in his voice missing.
“Getting there.” I take a big breath and blow it out. “See, full capacity now.” I try to smile, but it falls flat and I quit trying.
“Does that, uh, happen often?”
“I’ve had a few of them over the years, but I’m not usually wearing a forty-pound dress and shapewear under it.”
"Why were you wearing a forty-pound dress with that horrible shit under it?"
"Beauty is pain," I shrug my shoulder.
"Fuck that. Beauty is beauty. Pain is stupid."
I laugh. That is such a Joker thing to say. "Anything left of the dress?" I ask, knowing I shouldn't care.
“Yeah, about that. There’s no saving that. I’m sorry.”
“You have nothing to be sorry for. I’m sorry for losing my shit on you.”
He reaches out and grips my hand, pulling me back into the main room. It’s an open space, a kitchen along one wall and a massive fireplace along the other. The bathroom sits under a flight of stairs to what I can only assume are bedrooms. They run along a balcony, and there are four doors. I focus back on the living space and see something that makes me smile for what might be the first time all day.
“Is that?” I ask, pointing to the huge overstuffed couch.
“A couch exactly like Tiny’s?”
“Uh-huh.”
“It is. You didn’t think he found that beautiful thing on his own, did you? Someone with taste had to introduce him to a thing of beauty like that. Take a seat.”
I don’t have to be asked twice in this instance. I sit down in the corner, bringing my legs up under me and resting my cheek on my hand. Joker walks around the couch, standing behind me, and begins to pull the pins out of my hair. The tension on my head is removed one piece at a time until my hair is hanging down my back and over my shoulders.
“Thanks,” I tell him when he’s finished.
“No problem. Want a sandwich or something? I think there’s a pizza in the freezer.”
“That sounds great. I haven’t eaten since the dinner last night.”
He growls and mutters something I can’t hear before stalking into the kitchen area and pulling out two frozen pizzas. I watch him, my body finally fully relaxed and normal. I try to keep my eyes on him, but I have the overwhelming need to close them. For just a minute.
Maybe two.