Living with Katrina Ch. 05

Can't believe I made it to 5 chapters! Here is the fifth. Hope you like it even more than you did the previous ones. Vote and comment to let me know what you think.

Thanks to my copy-editor KatieTay, my plot editor CambriaRose and a special vote of thanks to PennLady for helping me with this chapter.

DISCLAIMER- This chapter contains episodes of drug use and drug induced hallucinations. If you do not like such content, do not read further.

"A woman knows the face of the man she loves as a sailor knows the open sea."

-Honore de Balzac

* *

Blades of light shone in through the window. Katrina could feel her body warmed by the radiant sun. She squirmed and groaned happily at the palms moving over her body. One hand grasped her left breast and pressed it. The fingers circled her sensitive areola and pinched it gently.

Her mouth opened in a sharp cry of pleasure. Her eyes peered through the bright illuminance. She could vaguely make out the silhouette of a face. It came closer, until she saw those kindly eyes that she had grown to love.

"Jake," she said, not daring to believe it.

"Yes, Katrina," he said. "I'm here for you now."

She tried to say something, but his lips clasped onto her mouth, sucking his tongue. She returned the kiss with a tender passion that she had not known she had. Their tongues interlocked in a sensuous dance. One of her hands came up to caress his cheek. His lips never left hers even as her other hand reached around his head. Her fingers grabbed his hair, pulling his head into her face.

Katrina wanted to surrender herself completely to the kiss. Her mind was already sliding down the slope into an abyss of lust. It looked so warm and inviting to her, calling out to her to give in. She had wanted this for so long.

Jake did not break the kiss. His hands roamed over her torso, kneading, grinding, squeezing her until she could feel pleasure seeping under her skin. Her body was a heated erogenous zone, with every nerve-ending quivering in anticipation of a cascade of pleasure.

She felt a hardness against her. Looking down, she saw his erection barely touching her lower lips. Her eyes returned to his and he brushed his hardness up and down the length of her slit.

"Thank you Jake."

He gave her his signature smile of warmth and confidence before he placed his arms on either side of her head. Jake lowered his head to her neck and kissed her softly. His lips moved over her skin, planting delicate pecks everywhere.

She moaned happily as his hard member teased her wet folds. The need had grown inside her, simmering inside her like a hungry beast. An alien entity that willed her to grasp what she wanted and pull him deep within her, like he was always meant to be. Like Tristan and Isolde, Thisbe and Pyramus, it was just right. It was exactly as it was supposed to be.

Destined in ways not even Ovid could have penned.

He pushed into her, gently at first. She screamed for more and clutched his hips. Arching her body off the bed, she took more of his shaft inside her. It filled her vagina, stretching her walls around his girth.

Katrina felt her velvet walls clench around his pulsing member. He fucked her in fast strokes. She dug her fingernails into his back, leaving furrows and even drawing a hint of blood. Undeterred, he ploughed on.

"I love you, Jake," she moaned into his mouth. "I always have. I always will."

He did not need to say anything. That look of unbridled passion on his face spoke for him as did the powerful intensity of his thrusting. He plunged his member into her depths. She gasped as she felt his full length embedded inside her.

It was perfect. As if it was made for her. For her and only her.

"Give it to me. Don't hold back. Give me everything."

And he did. Stroke followed stroke with increasing power. His thick erection slammed against her pussy, burying himself to the hilt inside her folds. She wrapped her legs around his back and drew him even closer to her.

His hands on her shoulders as he continued to move his hips back and forth in a powerful rhythm against her. She felt a powerful orgasm form inside her and grow exponentially. It expanded within her, threatening to consume her.

Once more, their lips locked and he drew out of her entirely before slamming all the way back in again.

"I've waited long enough. Don't make me wait any longer."

The orgasm was about to hit her, when she saw her world spin out. Jake's form was replaced by a fuzzy haze. The mist replaced everything around her. She could not feel the warmth of the room any more. It was replaced by a chilling emptiness. She reached for his arms, but they were not holding her any more. That comforting smile had faded away too.

Katrina blinked and she was not in his loving arms anymore. She was in a lonely room, smelling of beer, pot and several more questionable odours.

Her fingers were clutching something. The other end of that something was inside her forbidden depths. In her drug induced haze, she did not even care what she was fucking herself with. Her body raged in anger that her stupor had ended so soon and left her hanging.

Trent Harmon was at the other end of the bed watching her with a look of voyeuristic awe. His tattooed hand rested idly on his cock, spent from producing the cum stains in front of it.

"More..." she managed to croak out.

Trent was only too happy to give her another helping. She inhaled deeply, letting her mind wander back.

"Oh yes. Jake. Yes Yes Yes Yes OHHH YES!!"

* *

Jake Gallagher was very worried.

Ever since he had brought Emma over for dinner, he had noticed a distinct change in the way Katrina acted around him. The carefree banter was gone and even functional conversation seemed forced. She always seemed on edge in his presence.

Whenever he tried to bring up the topic, she deftly changed the conversation. Her passive aggressive deflection frustrated him, but he dared not pry deeper. Katrina's legendary temper kept him at bay.

Not to mention her sudden disappearance that night, and on the other nights since.

In the snatches of free time he got in the middle of his shift, his mind stayed firmly on her. He had been with her long enough to know something was up. The signs were ominous; she was heading for a hard landing. He needed to be prepared for it. He was her entire support system. A support system that was stretched to the limit whenever she crashed.

His office phone rang, interrupting his thoughts.

"Jake. We need those numbers from the latest Google audit, stat."

He sighed inwardly as his attention returned to the numbers on his screen.

His concerns would have to wait.

* *

Katrina lay on her back on the floor. The world looked unusually distorted to her. She tried to focus her attention on her next piece, but failed. She staggered to her feet. The canvas was largely empty, except for a few stray swipes of blue.

Her world was a blurry around the edges. She could not walk steadily. The effect of the drugs had not entirely passed. Her mind reeled and lurched against intangible forces. She took a few awkward steps and collapsed on the bed.

"Jake. Why don't you want to be with me? I will change. I promise," she cried into thin air.

She knew she had harboured feelings for him for a while. He would not reciprocate them, but her feelings did not abate. It kept growing. She forced them under wraps to protect him and she had it well covered. They hid neatly under the façade of easy roommate camaraderie.

But that had changed when Emma came over. All of a sudden, her failure to have Jake was flaunted right in her living room. On the couch, when she saw them get intimate. During dinner when she fondled him under the table. Later that night, when she...

"No."

Katrina banged her fist on the bed in frustration. The frustration was just as powerful as it had been two weeks ago. It raged inside her like a storm and kept her in its vice grip. When she closed her eyes, she saw them making out on the couch.

Those visions taunted her. Laughed at her.

Jake had chosen Emma. He had gone for a stable, attractive partner. Katrina felt all alone. All alone the dark, dingy world. Her pillar of support was surely going away from her.

"Don't leave me Jake," she sobbed. "Don't you see I have no one else?"

She continued imploring at nothing. Her hands clutched handfuls of the bedsheet and tugged at them tightly. A hopeless dread enveloped her.

She felt anger. Anger at herself.

She felt resentment. Resentment at the world.

She felt regret. Regret that she had not even tried to restrain her recklessness.

But most of all, she felt fear. Fear at how she would survive without Jake looking out for her.

The faint scars on her wrist reminded her of the last time she needed him. There were many more such instances when she needed the knight in shining armour who masqueraded as her boring roommate to save her.

Save her from herself.

The more Katrina thought about it, the more helpless she felt. Her life was unravelling faster than she could think. She clutched a paintbrush, her body moving purely on instinct and attacked the canvas with fury.

Lines and shapes she could not fathom appeared. It did not make sense, even to her, but her hands kept moving on autopilot. The outside world receded into insignificance. All she saw was her canvas.

Her arms ached by the time she finally put her brush down. She gasped for breath, exhausted at her frenzy. The effects of drug withdrawal were finally wearing off. It had unfortunately coincided with a mood swing, amplifying her depression.

The canvas itself said a simple story. A normal picture can say a thousand words they say, but this one said only three. It screamed out those three words in a geometric kaleidoscope of colours, set in a bizarre sequence. Yet the words were unambiguous. Emblazoned across the white were the simple words.

I HATE YOU

Her own art yelled back at her, a searing indictment to herself. Her self-esteem had reached a new nadir.

She looked at her watch. It was almost time for Jake to come back and she did not want him to see her this way. Quickly, she put a layer of white over the hateful message.

Her phone vibrated on her desk, getting her attention. It was a message from Trent, saying he had a fresh batch to share with her.

"Oh what's the use," she sighed inwardly, swimming in the futility of her situation. "I am too screwed up for him anyway."

Picking up her purse, she left.

* *

The feeling of shame remained as Katrina sat in the subway. She had a lot to feel ashamed about, but she wasn't brooding over her past decisions. That was too long a list to ponder over.

She was thinking about Jake. Thinking about how she had used him all these years. For the first time in a while, her thoughts had this clarity.

Jake meant a lot to her. That she was certain of, but had she treated him like she should have?

Seeing him with Emma showed her all the things she could have been. She should have been. But she was too selfish to be. She loved her crazy life and never even thought about changing herself. "Normal" was her boring.

She stopped brooding for some time to plug in her iPod. Idly scrolling through her playlist, she saw one of her favourites - "Hurt" by Johnny Cash. Smiling wistfully, she turned it on and sank into her seat.

"I hurt myself today
To see if I still feel
I focus on the pain
The only thing that's real
The needle tears a hole
The old familiar sting
Try to kill it all away
But I remember everything"

It rang true within her. She had hurt herself enough. Every day she could think of. There was always a feeling that if she went on long enough, she would be inured to the pain. After all, there is only so much abuse the human body can take before it gives in and stops hurting.

Then why did she still hurt so much?

The train lurched to a halt and a sea of humanity shuffled out of the doors. They were replaced by more blank faces. A milling throng of people almost choked her air supply. But somehow she remained disconnected.

Alone in a crowd.

"What have I become
My sweetest friend
Everyone I know goes away
In the end
And you could have it all
My empire of dirt
I will let you down
I will make you hurt"

It was not new. Katrina had come to this epiphany a while back. Her love was toxic and the only thing in it for Jake was pain and suffering. She knew she could not change herself for him, as much as she craved to.

The sullen faces in the crowd stared emotionlessly in their own directions.

"Are they hiding any pain?" she wondered.

She looked at the Goth girl by the window. She had her eyes closed and rocked her head to a tune from memory. Her black lipstick and silver piercing got a few glances from those around her.

"Does she love someone?"

A businessman sat in the opposite seat to her. He was engrossed on his laptop. She observed him for a while. Probably middle management. The shirt and tie indicated he was going to a meeting and adding a few final touches to his presentation.

"If someone loves you. Love them back. Please," she muttered under her breath.

"I wear this crown of thorns
Upon my liar's chair

Full of broken thoughts
I cannot repair
Beneath the stains of time
The feelings disappear
You are someone else
I am still right here."

The gap grew even wider. In her mind, she could see him drift away on a raft with Emma. She remained on a lonely island, unable to find a measure of peace. Tormented and broken by her ordeals, she called out for him to save her, but he kept floating away.

"If I could start again
A million miles away
I would keep myself
I would find a way."

She woke up with a start as the PA system announced her station. The last few words lingered in her mind. Her subconscious had been prodding at her for a while with a message she had not quite been able to decipher. Somehow the last four lines caused it to prod harder. Her mind was quietly processing what the words meant.

Katrina shook off her contemplation. Her mind and body was tired from her withdrawal fuelled episode earlier. She needed a fix to pick her up. She knocked on Trent's door.

The door opened and she saw a webcam pointing in the direction of the bed. Trent had a smug look on his face as he held her fix in his hand.

"These people are paying for the drugs, Katrina," said Trent softly, pointing to the camera. "Give them the same show you gave me the other night."

She was speechless. While most of her wanted to leave, the irresistible comfort inside that plastic pipe was tugging at her. Against her will, her feet stepped inside. He had played her perfectly, knowing she was desperate for a dose.

"It's what I deserve," she rationalized mentally. "From watching shamelessly to being watched shamefully, I have come full circle."

Taking off all her clothes, she was handed the pipe. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. The chemical hallucinogen filled her up, slowly pushing her off the precipice of reality into the abyss of delusion.

She imagined she heard the collective mob of people on the other end of that camera unzip themselves together. It was the last sound she heard before she saw the warm, fuzzy light again.

* *

Jake was beyond worried. He had come home from work, determined to confront Katrina. He had spent a long while getting up the courage to make his big speech. Finally, it would all be out in the open.

At least that was how it was when he rehearsed it at his desk.

In reality, he came back from work and found the apartment empty. His fears were further amplified when he saw her room in total disarray. Sheets were bunched and ripped while her supplies were strewn all over.

He tried her cell, but it went straight to voicemail. He called up some of her artist friends, but they did not know her whereabouts either. Normally, one would not have been worried. But Katrina was not normal.

Especially over the last two weeks.

He needed to take his mind off her and think about something else. Until she returned, he was absolutely helpless to do anything. He sank into his recliner wondering where she could be.

Knowing her, he probably would not like the answer. But it did not stop him from wondering.

Jake sighed and put his earphones on. He needed the melody of Rachmaninoff. There was nothing quite like Piano Concerto No.2 when it came to soothing his tense nerves. The notes lessened the burden on his aching brain.

He thought about his life. How it meandered along, quiet and forgotten in its humdrum state. He was another blank face, in a city with over eight million faces. Another rat, running the great rat race. No one had yet figured out where the finish line to this race was, or what was the prize for finishing.

Still they kept running.

The exasperating futility of it all made him shake his head. If he were to suddenly drop dead, life would still go on as usual in the city. Maybe there would be a minute's silence in his office. Maybe his sister would "not hate his guts" for a while. But he did not quite see anyone missing him much.

Except possibly Katrina.

He smiled wistfully. She thought he did not know about her feelings towards him, but he knew her better than that. He knew she slept with a photograph of him. It had gone beyond the point of an unrequited crush and hero worship. It had become more intense, more primal.

Sadly, he could not reciprocate. He knew her and he knew her type. He was not it. Their supposed relationship would have a tragic ending. He would brush it off, he always did. But she would blame herself and...

He had no idea if this was love, but he hated seeing her sad. Whatever he could do to make her smile again was worth it. Why else would he go out of his way to watch out for her for so many years?

Could he ever feel for her the way she felt for him? Or even a fraction of that? And what about Emma? Was he just a passing fancy for her?

In his mind, what Emma did to him was "love". But why was it so forced then? The only memories he had with her were of some part of her anatomy around his erection. They had not shared a walk by the Riverfront. Not strolled in the moonlight through Morningside Park. Not opened their hearts to each other over coffee till late in the night.

No. He had done all that and more with Katrina.

Which of the two was love then? He was too unworldly wise to know. In both his relationships with women, he felt used. But he stuck it out.

Being used was better than being alone. For most of his adolescence, he had been alone, and it was a fate he would not wish upon his worst enemy.

His idle ruminations were interrupted by his Blackberry buzzing on his armrest. Lazily, he lifted it to his face to gaze at the screen.

KATRINA CALLING

Immediately all his musings ended and he held the phone urgently to his ear.

"Katrina. Thank God you called. Where are you?"

No answer.

"Are you all right?" he pressed.

Still no answer. He could hear low voices in the background. There were a lot of people talking wherever she was. He hung on, hoping for a reply.

Finally, a voice spoke up. "Jake? Is that you?"

Jake could place that drawl and stretched vowel sound easily.

"Trent! Why are you calling me on Kat's phone? Where is she?"

Silence and then he spoke again.

"Jake. Listen, you need to get to St Sebastian's Hospital right now. Katrina is here."

Jake felt an icy chill up his spine.