All My Demons

By Corri Lee

A whirlwind romance on a wild tour led rock vixen Amelia Marsh to her fairytale ending with smoking hot new husband, CJ, and their newborn daughter, Delilah. But for every cloud with a silver lining, there is a brewing maelstrom waiting to mar the landscape.

A year on from I'M WITH THE BAND, old demons rear their ugly heads in body and mind, building hurdles that the new Mr and Mrs Pearce never imagined they might have to jump. Faces of the past reappear and memories echo in the fragile mind of a woman forced to relive what has once before been a painful experience- motherhood.

"How do you cope when motherhood is given, revoked, and then reinstated? How do you make up for all of those bad memories and all the bad experiences that you didn't fight hard enough to prevent? How do you make up for lost time when you're given a second chance?"

How much is too much for two precarious firecrackers playing with fire?
How many revelations are too many?
What would YOU do for a miracle?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Corri Lee
• Release date: Mar 10, 2013
• ISBN: 9781301515233

Corri Lee

Self-publishing author and self-confessed fantasist, I vent my ideas into novels that I strive to make emotionally provocative and addictive. Music is referenced heavily and is a huge influence in the way I write. Those who know me well will see the pieces of my personality that I put into my words. Those who don't will see outrageous story lines, gut wrenching twists, raunchy love affairs, and heart stopping romance.Jaws will drop. Eyes will burn. Cheeks will blush. Pages will turn. If just one of those reactions is evoked from every reader, then I know that my time isn't wasted.I write in the hope that my work will be enjoyed and the word will spread. Not for the *unlikely* financial gain, but for the knowledge of knowing that I made a mark on the world by just 'being'.

Book preview

Intro

No Hopes and Low Expectations

SOMETIMES YOU OVER-ANALYSE. Sometimes you second guess everything around you. Sometimes old memories come back to haunt you and sometimes miracles happen. Life can change in the blink of an eye and something completely unexpected happens that changes your outlook on life. A rich man can become poor overnight or a wife can become a widow. Paupers might become princes, and those princes could become kings.

These miraculous turns of fate can happen, but you never expect lightning to strike twice, let alone multiple times.

I am Amelia Marsh-sorry, Pearce. I am twenty-four years old today and, as far as everyone can tell, I’ve never been happier. I haven’t, but that doesn’t mean I’m happy. Everywhere I turn, I’m looking over my shoulder to make sure that the Grim Reaper isn’t hot on our heels. Running away from everything with an element of danger, no matter how safe it looks to everyone else. There have been stupid risks I’ve taken before that I won’t take again. I know better than I did ten years ago, and I won’t let failure become an option.

My family was my miracle. So surely my lightning has struck and all that’s left is the thunder and rain? At least I have good company in the storm-my friends, my new family, and the love of my life. I should be considering myself lucky, not battling with the memories that shouldn’t even matter anymore.

I never expected becoming a mother again to be easy, but I never imagined that it could be quite so hard. I don’t see myself in her, because myself is standing out there in the storm on her own through her own doing. I never imagined that I’d have to stray back out into the tempest to pull her back to safety after she seemed so secure.

I never expected to be setting extra seats at my dining table for miracles, nightmares, and all my demons.

One

Happy Birthday To Me

I CAN’T BELIEVE I'm back here again, in this room, on another birthday, staring at another huddled mass on this bed. It's so still and lifeless, and I know that I've been here before, but this should be different. He told me that I wasn't to blame - this shouldn't still haunt me. 

But still I reach out for that mass and - Creedance! It gets me every time. I look around this room and I can't believe that I agreed to stay here. Everything was easier when I wasn't forced to face these memories head on. 

I jolt awake and glance around, met by an empty room. I don't do empty, why is it empty? Why has the jackass taken her away? I bolt down into my sister's overly pretentious sitting room and plough in on the people who I love the most casually chatting away over breakfast. 

Heaving a sigh of relief, I sink down in my reserved spot on the couch. Why did we agree to stay here again? I honestly can't imagine why I would possibly do this willingly. I must have been bribed. I want to go home.

Ams, you know we can't. This is a big deal for your family.

I glare at Meredith acerbically and lean back in my seat, arms crossed and fully pissed off. Family. Big deal. How is this birthday any different to the other seven my mother missed?

She raises an eyebrow and nods towards the doorway, where my collaborative ray of light has just walked in. Because you have them. 

My eyes follow her gaze to the two people who've become like additional but completely necessary limbs. They have matching green eyes, which I'm entirely envious of, but are both in totally different classes of their own. She is a beautiful little princess who keeps me on my toes, and right now, he is the major ass-face who ignores every single fucking word I say.

I stride over him to take her from his arms and stamp on his foot. Dick, I told you not to leave me alone in there.

Relax, girl. You don't sleep enough and I knew you'd wake her with your nightmares. I was trying to do right by you both. 

Well don't. I hiss, stomping back to the couch with a huff, you know that I can't not be around her. He stares at me in bewilderment, completely crushed by the fact that he just doesn't seem to be able to do anything right by me at the moment. I've been completely cutting him out and after all that we've battled through so far, I know that it must be tearing him to pieces. CJ, I'm sorry. I just really want to go home.

He trudges over towards me looking dejected and is rewarded with a sympathetic smile from Meredith. He looks like a total hottie when he's vulnerable and she never really ever got past hoping that I'd save her some scraps. I know you do, girl. We'll be home tomorrow, I promise. I nod wearily and simper at the beautiful little sleeping angel in my arms.

I know that it must wound him every time I snatch her from him, but I find it so difficult to share her. I'm constantly riddled with anxiety over what will happen if anyone else has her, and consequentially, I've gone out of my way to avoid introducing her to just about everyone. My dad, Bobby, has seen her once, my mother and brother have been in Africa for five years, and under no circumstances is my sister, Mackenzie, allowed anywhere near her. Difficult when we're sat in her house. 

I'm mortified to see that she's had that ghastly portrait restored, and so is Meredith. It would be nice to think that she'll provide us with yet another reason to defile it again, like she does every year, but this time is going to be different in that I'll have to play happy families with the people who abandoned me when I needed them the most.

And why? Because I made a few minor adjustments to my life. Obviously I use the term 'minor' loosely - they were major events for me, but to the most part of my family, they're just things that they're morally obligated to pay a limited amount of interest to.

There'll be fake smiles on photos, I'll be forced to pass my daughter around like pass the bloody parcel, I'll be judged for marrying too fast and too young, and then everyone will fuck off back to their pits from whence they came and won't talk to me again until somebody dies, hopefully Mackenzie. 

So when are Mum and Wills due in?

Fourish, baby doll.

Great, I shuffle up from my seat and ruffle CJ's hair. I wish he didn't look so miserable because I don't know how the hell to make him smile again. There used to be a time when he just had to look at me and that was it, his world was complete. Now we lack where we should excel, and I know that it's my fault.

I'm not the spunky rockstar who he eyed up across the library any more, I'm a shadow of the woman who he busted his balls for. I gave him everything this time last year, but now I keep him at arms length. Jeez, I know what I need to do to fix this, even though I'm really loathed to do so. Unless...

I sigh quickly and sharply, then turn to Meredith and pass her the little dozing beauty in my arms. She looks at me with utter confusion, but doesn't object. She knows that she is the only person in the world other than CJ who gets to hold that girl without a fight and relishes every opportunity to do so. 

I stoop down to CJ's eye level and sweep his hair back behind his ear. Hair cuts for us have become somewhat unheard of, and even though he looks as exhausted as I do, he’s a total god with his hair messily tied back to escape tiny grabbing hands. He gives me a weak smile that breaks my heart when I hold out my hand and he looks at it as though he's afraid to touch me. Hey, come on. I need to get changed.

You want me to come with you?

I raise an eyebrow and swipe for his hand. Yes, I want you to come with me. I can't be on my own in there, remember?

He follows me timidly into my childhood bedroom and squeaks a note of surprise when I launch myself at him and send him toppling back onto the bed. These kind of intimate moments have been non-existent over the past three months- not because my body feels like it’s not ready or because I don't lust after him, but because it is my right to say no. I can't expect him to understand that and I can't explain it without tainting his view of me with more miserable tales of my past. That stage of my life is over. Well, it should be, and even if it still affects me, we agreed to turn a page and move past it. Plus I really don't want to be treated like a victim. 

Naturally, CJ jumps at the chance to get under me and is making the most of my somewhat rare passionate advance towards him. He's got that amazing keen twinkle in his eye that he had the night he found his way back to me at Download after six agonising weeks and a few major bombshells. 

Fuck, Amelia, I've missed you so much.

Ah, stop talking! My toes cramp from being clenched so tightly as he rubs away the hurt of our separation over the bonnet of his Mercedes SL, blatantly disregarding the cheers and cat calls of the surrounding festival campers. I never imagined that I'd be in this position again, no pun intended, and so freely forgiven for the mistakes I've made, the lies I've told, and more than anything, the secrets I've kept.

His hand snakes under me and grips the small of my back when it arches and I whimper pathetically, unwilling to find my release when he hasn't. Amelia, stop trying to apologise to me like this. His free hand tugs at my chin so I'm looking at him, and that twinkle in his eye bathes me and sends a shock wave of relief rippling through me. That's better, girl. His hand slides down and settles over my Heaven tattoo with a very slight and gentle stroke. You have nothing to apologise for.

Caspian, I do, I'm sorry… I heave myself up and wrap my arms and legs around him, swearing to never let go again. I should have called after the fund raiser. No, I should have talked to you when Emily called as soon as I found out but I— 

He puts a finger on my lips and gives me a very slow and sexy smile. Do you have any idea how beautiful you look right now?

Amelia? His voice pulls me back from my reverie and I blink a few times before I realise that I've paused in the middle of undoing his jeans and completely zoned out like a headcase. But still he just smiles up at me and cocks his head to one side. Girl, I can hear that brain of yours chugging like a locomotive.

I sigh and let my head flop down so my chin rests on my chest. Who the fuck am I kidding? My usual coping strategies aren't going to work this time. I'm sorry, CJ. I just... I stare down at him pinned beneath me and rub my eyes with my palms in frustration. I just can't.

Okay. 

I eye him sceptically and clamber onto the bed beside him, frowning as he digs into my suitcase for my Raven SDL trousers and bell sleeved black shirt. What do you mean 'okay'?

I mean 'okay'. He kneels down at the foot of the bed and drags me towards him by the ankles, pulling off my crappy jeans and dressing me into my mourning outfit. I've seen that look on your face before, Amelia, he glances up at me and nods, yeah, that one you're giving me right now. You have demons and you can't possibly imagine how I can stand to watch you fight them when you won't let me help. How the hell does he do that- read me so precisely? Well, I've stood by you before and I'll do it again. 

I heave myself to my feet so he can pull the trousers up and fasten them, then hold my arms up to be dressed into the shirt. Don't you get pissed off with all my secrets?

No, because you invariably tell me what they are when you're ready to. I know better than to push you. He purses his lips and lifts my hands up to them to kiss the stunning engagement ring on my left hand and the rose tattoo that he know covers a cigarette burn on the right. But you have to remember that nothing you tell me about your past is going to send me running.

You're perceptive. Stop it. He laughs softly, pulls me into the warm snug of his arm and rests his cheek on my forehead. Come to the cemetery with me.

He shifts to look down at me with genuine surprise. Really? I'd be honoured.

Jesus, what did I ever do to deserve this guy?

CREEDANCE’S GRAVE LOOKS like crap again, and for another year running, Meredith and I are fuming that nobody down this end makes the effort to keep it tidy. Seriously, she had two parents and the one closest to her is the reason why she was ever born. I have to wonder if he bothers coming here at all. 

Meredith nudges me in the ribs and tips her head towards CJ frowning down at the headstone grimly. His expression is entirely unreadable but his protective stance over the car seat suggests that maybe he's feeling just a tiny piece of my personal hell singeing his toes.

I'll wait at the car. I nod to her and regard him wearily as he leans down and runs his fingers over the engraved words. 

Creedance Marsh

Died so young, lived so little.

Love My Baby. I frown as he looks up at me with a raised eyebrow. Your dad's song. He wrote it for her.

Oh, I smile weakly and nod, yeah, he did. He was on tour when... Well, you know. He was gutted, he loved being a grampy bear. You should have seen his face when he realised I was knocked up again - never seen a man quite so proud of a contraceptive boo-boo. He coughs a suppressed laugh and scoops an arm around my legs. It's weird to think that at this time last year he had no idea that I was obscenely famous, and now he's quite at ease with both me and his tragically iconic glam rocker for a father-in-law. I think my dad sees CJ more than he sees me- I swear that CJ comes home and confesses to a cheeky whiskey with him almost twice as much as I pretend that I haven't snuck to the gym and ended up being caught out and exposed to a fatherly round of fucks. I think CJ is definitely more bothered that I've been doing too much too soon, but Dad is worried about my tendency to 'put it about'. Jesus, if only he knew how little he should be concerned about that. Also, I figure the gym is no place for a baby...

Do you want a minute alone? CJ rises to his feet and kisses my forehead. Before we take her little sister off to puke over the troll's furniture? Hmm, shame she's not on solids yet. 

I sigh and hum an affirmation, waiting until his footsteps are completely out of earshot to lean down and kiss the cold slab of granite. You'd love him, Cree. He would have been an awesome dad for you. He would have made up for everything you ever heard and saw. If I'd ever gotten away from it. How the hell do you ever make up for such horrendous first memories? I'm suddenly completely full of regret for everything that I ever did that lead up to meeting Lucien, never walking away, always obeying his orders and never speaking up to anyone who could stop it. My family thought I was a self-destructive fuck up when really, all I ever did was cover his ass when he marked me and say whatever I had to, to stop him from taking my baby away. 

I slump into the back seat of the car with a sigh and pull my phone out of my pocket to scan through the perfunctory emails from my 'mother' informing me of the delays to their flight and oh, by the way, happy birthday but not really. 

Amelia? I glance up at Meredith and blink numbly. Where is she?

How the fuck am I supposed to know? I don't have a satellite link to her plane.

She scoffs in disbelief and glares at the empty seat next to me. Your daughter, you dick.

I roll my eyes. CJ has her.

No, I don't. You told me that you couldn't be away from her. My eyes burn into the back of his head for a minute before I hurtle out of the car and fly back through the cemetery, stumbling and throwing myself down on the ground in front of the car seat with a sob. She smiles up at me, those immaculate little green eyes staring at me with unconditional love, and I just can't look at her. Creedance used to look at me in exactly the same way through her tears and look what happened to her. Her death might not have been my fault, but everything she experienced in those short nine months was. I'm not good for her.

CJ gives me that same look of unconditional love when I reach the car again and it makes me sick. I used to make a career of being unlovable and now I'm completely fucking surrounded by people who think the sun shines out of my backside. It doesn't. I'm too tweaked for anyone to delude themselves with that notion.

I pass the car seat to him and take a step back to debate my next move. They would both be better off with just each other - he's so much more comfortable with her than I am. Mackenzie took my experience away from me before and I don't know how the hell to be a good mother. I've muddled through the past three months like an automaton - the instinct is there but I just haven't had that eureka moment yet. He had it immediately, the moment she was born. 

Hey, CJ steps up to me and brushes my tears away with his thumbs, it could happen to anyone, you didn't realise I'd left her there.

I put my hands on his chest and shove him away with a snarl. Would you stop it? Would you stop being so fucking nice and make me feel like shit for once?

Amelia...

No, Caspian, my god! It wouldn't have even occurred to me until we got back to Birmingham and I saw that cot in our room.

Don't be stupid, you can't go more than five minutes without being in the same room as her. He leads me around to my seat and leans down into the car to give me that look. There used to be a time when you'd laugh this off, girl. I'm doing all of the night feeds tonight and you're getting drunk with Meredith and trashing Mackenzie's house. I want my wife back- the way you were before. 

His words leave a bitter taste in my mouth for the entire journey back to Mackenzie's, and I'm not really sure how to approach the sentiment. Before what exactly? Before I fell in love with him, before I overcame my fears for him, before he found out I was a kick ass rockstar or before I married him and bore a child? Have I really changed that much in three months?

Before what, CJ? He looks up at me in the rear view mirror and frowns. The way I was before what?

I hear him exhale slowly and shift in his seat. Before you let your fears eat away at you and turn you into a person who let her problems consume her instead of brushing them off and masking them with tattoos. Right, so before I had the baby.

So you'd rather I mask my problems with a feeble eight word mantra that I clearly can't adhere to? You want me to begrudgingly put out or suck cock to make you feel better because you're not centre of attention any more?

No, Jesus! He looks up at me in the mirror again and his jaw stiffens. He only ever does that when he's about to say something that's likely to cause a volatile reaction. My insides churn slightly at the sight of him pre-emptively flinching. I hate that he's scared of me - I've been in that position myself. I'm not Lucien, Amelia. And Delilah isn't Creedance. You need to stop waiting for the past to repeat itself. 

He was wrong to flinch. He's completely right.

I RUB MY eyes back into focus with a grunt and turn onto my side to observe the other two thirds of 'family nap time'. CJ has this crazy idea that my paranoia largely whittles down to sleep deprivation and is now insisting on frequent dozing together in the name of 'adjusted attachment parenting'. What he really means is that he likes to starfish at night and wake up jabbing me in the back with his morning wood, so the real principle of co-sleeping is off the table, but he's dead keen on power naps and baby wearing, so we're going to be one of those celebrity couples seen out with a baby carrier and custom made changing bag with matching mirrored aviators. 

The tiny snoring between us is a comfort and good compensation for all the times I've woken up in the middle of the night to check on her. That's the real reason why I'm so tired. CJ sleeps through it so he doesn't know that she's amazing in that she'll happily sleep all night, but dumb fuck here insists on waking her up and feeding her anyway. I know that I need to take a step back and let her flourish, but there's so much that I need to redeem myself for. 

My eye is caught by a flash of white teeth grinning at me and a cheekily opened eye. Twat, he wasn't sleeping at all. Have you been watching me? He winks and nods, before tentatively creeping out of the bed and circling around to my side, balancing on the edge of the mattress to spoon me. I remember falling asleep like this on the night I told him about my philematophobia - my fear of kissing. Ever since that moment, when he realised just how deeply damaged I was, he's never pushed me too far or asked me to surrender information that I wasn't happy to provide. He doesn't have an assertive bone in his body - well, he has one, but that's not exactly a 'bone' so to speak. That's the only aspect of our relationship where we have equal control, everything else is under my jurisdiction. I don't really know if I like it that way.

There's more to this room than Creedance, isn't there? I twist my head to look around at him and smile apologetically. I must have been having nightmares again and I hope that I haven't given away too much. He rolls back out of the bed and pulls me up towards him, trapping my fingers between his. I'll red eye the drive home tonight. 

My eyebrow jerks, and on some level, I'm deeply impressed by his hurry to sweep me away from the place where the worst events of my life unfolded. You don't have to do that, you'll be exhausted tomorrow.

A hotel then. It was unfair of Mackenzie to put you back in this room. She could have put Plato and Levi in here- they don't have any bad memories of this place. 

His fingers flex between mine and I can feel every bit of his frustration that he can't just sweep me up and possess my body in the way he used to - that he can't express himself in the way he wants to. We gave each other uninhibited access to each other and I revoked that at the minute the gravity of my universe shifted and centred on that baby girl. Why did I let it shift when they couldn't be closer together if they tried? 

I glance back at the bed behind me and attach myself to a guise that I've used only too frequently in the past six years. I know that he needs me to show him that I'm still as crazy for him as I was this time last year, when we rocked into my sisters house with our stinking bad attitudes, and he peeled me away from a piece of my painful past and earned my trust.

My eyes narrow slightly as I set to undoing the buttons on my shirt with a smirk. Birthday bump me, bitch. I run my tongue across my teeth salaciously and drop to my knees with a complimentary murmur, making light work of his belt.

Amelia, stop.

I glance up at him and raise an eyebrow. Stop looking at me. He stifles a smile and shakes his head at me. I can't believe you're turning down a blow job.

I'll take it if you lose the stage face. My hands fall limp at my sides and I rock back onto my heels. God damn it, I can't get anything past him. I should know better than this by now. Stop trying to apologise to me with bravado and flirtation, he tells me, pulling me to my feet, you're too hard on yourself. Don't you remember the premise of our relationship? Intimacy, girl, that's all I need from you.

And that intimacy is gone. We both know it, and we're both afraid to admit it. I've pushed him away while I've been keeping one eye fixed on pessimism and I need to find my way back to him. 

There's a whimper and a grunt behind me and our baby girl is awake, griping and whinging for our attention. I usually lunge at her in a minute but... no. I put a hand on CJ's shoulder and give him a timid smile.

Go on. Your daughter wants you. His eyes widen in surprise, and in less than a second he's on her, curling his arms around her with a smile that I'm not even sure he's aware that he's wearing. She soon settles and coos, chuckling at his faces like he's the funniest man on the planet. He might be.

He looks up at me and half smiles, holding a hand out to me to pull me close. I won't let anything happen to her, Amelia. I won't stand over another grave that small. I can see the pain in his eyes and it proves that, yes, he looked at that headstone and understood my grief. He sees what other people don't because he has that emotional connection. To some extent, Creedance is his step-daughter. 

I know. I trust you. And in my heart I do. But my head needs to get the message too, and I know how. I have to take that path of self-discovery which I've taken before, but this time I know where it starts. 

I TAP MY foot rhythmically against the crappy brown lino of the waiting room floor and cradle my face in my hands, fingers combed into my hair. It's the first time I've sat in this room for nine years and the first time ever without my dad. It hasn't changed a bit, and neither has he. 

He walks out in the same tweed suit as ever, but greyer through age and a little more wrinkled. He smiles and cocks his head when he sees me, like he's not really surprised that I found my way back to his office. His aquamarine eyes still twinkle with knowledge and he's reading me without me having to say a word.

Amelia, he laughs, aren't you a sight for sore eyes?

I jump to my feet and knot my fingers in front of my stomach. Dr Cooper. 

The shrink.

Two

The Good Doctor

HE FROWNS DOWN at his notepad and scratches his nose with the end of his pencil. I've seen that look before. Dr Michael Cooper’s ‘processing and hatching plans’ look. I've already spent a good half hour giving him a thorough run down of all the little ways in which I obsess over my daughter, from my unwillingness to expose her to 'unsavoury' relatives to my incessant phone calls to CJ's mother on a daily basis.

Well, he looks up at me and tucks the pencil in the spiral binding, I certainly don't think you have postnatal depression, I slump back in my seat and heave an inward sigh of relief. That was my worst fear. But you're definitely still very rigidly stuck in your anxiety disorder. I didn't need to part with a substantial chunk of my bank account to know that.

I narrow my eyes at him and try to read his mind. But? I can feel that 'but' hanging.

He laughs softly and smiles, but, given the circumstances of Creedance's death, I can't see that anything you're doing is irrational. Plenty of mothers frequently check on their child- particularly if they've been exposed to the statistics and horror stories of Sudden Infant Death Syndrome. SIDS? Oh fuck, I hadn't even thought of that. Nice one, Doc. You trust your husband enough to leave your daughter with him for extended periods, as you are now, you have on-tap paediatric advice from your mother-in-law, Meredith is on constant standby for assistance and you have a wonderful support network. The rest will come with time, Amelia.

So I'm not crazy?

Dr Cooper tuts at me and leans back in his armchair. Honestly, I would have thought that with your degree and extensive psychological knowledge, you'd know better than to label yourself with something so relative and derogatory. No, Amelia, I certainly won't be calling the men in white coats to section you.

Okay... I stare down at my hands and fiddle with the large black diamond embedded in my engagement ring. I can't believe that I've been wearing it for a year, and how much has changed in that time. CJ has been so good for me, even if we have had our troubles. And those are coming up again- this time last year is when everything went so sour. 

Coops - as I always called him, raises an eyebrow at me and smirks, nodding at the door. You never used to be able to get out here fast enough- why are you really here? Perceptive, but it feels like he's mocking me. Things are different this time. The focus of my concerns has changed.

I grunt awkwardly and kick my feet up onto his table. Being back in the house has obviously sparked some bad memories but it goes beyond that and I don't know why. I need you to fix me so CJ has his wife back.

He looks at me in surprise. I have never given up information so freely in my life. For the first time since we met, he has a patient in me and not a resistant teen. What goes beyond that?

My unwillingness to be physically affectionate. He knows when I'm trying to push through it and won't let me carry on, but I know that it's killing him.

Do you think he needs to have sex with you to know that you love him? Jesus, hitting the nail on the head much? Since the first time he snuck into my dressing room and insisted that he was 'helping' me by launching a brutal assault on my g-spot, our relationship has always centred around sex. Hasn't it? 

Maybe. We would probably never have gotten to we are now if he hadn't made a very bold advance on me in Manchester.

The good doctor clears his throat and purses his lips, steepling his fingers under his chin. So he forced himself on you?

No, shit no! I swing my feet down to the floor and lean my elbows on my knees. We always maintain eye contact and all I ever have to do to stop him is to look away. I laugh awkwardly and stare down at the floor, flaring my eyes in the wake of my own realisation. He met me when I refused to allow any kind of intimacy into my life. He broke me with sex and tolerance, and he's so tolerant that it drives me insane. I remember implicitly how I once basked in his subservience. I miss how he used to brazenly walk in on me and trap me in his gaze, leaving me completely helpless. I revere that gaze so much that I had it tattooed on my thigh.

So you liked it when he had control?

My eyes jerk up and narrow. Equal control, Doc. God knows I don't need another Lucien in my life. But now I can't figure out which one of us has the overriding power. If there's anything genuinely intimate, I shy away, but he puts an end to anything I try and push through.

Coops sighs and stands up to stroll over to a table full of cups, saucers, and beverage paraphernalia. Oh crap, I know that when this guy gets the biscuits out, he's about to make some kind of wild breakthrough. 

So why do you shy away from anything mutually approached?

Because it’s my right to say no. He cocks his head for elaboration and sets to making my coffee. I can't believe he still remembers how I take it after all this time. He was one of a very exclusive few who didn’t scorn my early caffeine addiction. I could never say no to Lucien after Creedance was born because it was easier than braving the string of abuse. I'm involuntarily attached to my right to say no, and I can't get out of that pattern.

He holds a mug in front of my face and I wrap my hands around it to absorb the warmth. Hot coffee - what a novelty these days. So refresh my memory. For how long was Lucien raping you?

I glance up with a sneer and shake my head. He wasn't raping me. It was consensual.

Oh really? 

Ah, Lucien no, it hurts!

Stop being such a pussy, Mia, it's been two weeks. He leans over me, the cold metal of his dog tags burning my bare chest. It's not like you did it properly so nothing is fucked up down there.

It still really hurts! I'm still bleeding and they said six weeks.

Get a fucking grip- we've done plenty of blood sports before. He hikes my legs up around his waist and sends a searing wave of pain through the fresh scar across my hips, that makes me scream out. 

Somebody knocks on the door gently. You okay, baby bear? Just come in, please just come in. I wish I could make him help me.

Fine, papa bear!

Okay then. 

I glare up at Lucien and squeeze my eyes shut. Just get on with it.

So you think that because you just surrendered and let him do what he wanted to you, it was consensual? Dr Cooper takes a sip of his tea and shakes his head. I'm not really sure what flaw he's finding here. I said yes and I didn't put up a fight.

I loved him, Doc, or at least I thought I did. It took until last year for me to realise that it wasn't really love. I only ever have and only ever will love CJ, and the man himself made me see that.

He leans back in his armchair again and furrows his brow. Stockholm Syndrome.

I scoff and heat my face off the steam from my mug. Not applicable. I pursued Lucien at first and I enj— My lips tighten into a line and I clam up with a harsh inhale. 

And? I shake my head insistently. I'm not ready to make that omission. Consensual or not, Amelia, your relationship was always illegal in the eyes of society. A seventeen year old bedding a thirteen year old will always be 'wrong', but when he ties her up and subjects her to wax play and scarification, it's abuse. One day you're going to realise that this runs a little deeper than an early introduction to sadism, and well into an over-abuse of seniority. Whether you enjoyed it at the time or not... I cringe and avert my gaze from his. How the hell do people read me like that? You let him do things that you weren't happy with and you've been left with the physical and emotional scars. You know that, and that's why you're here on your birthday when you could be sitting at home with your family.

So tell me how to get rid of these demons, Doc. Tell me what I have to do to be the person I was before that baby was born.

Ah. He gives me that annoying all-knowing look which he used to give me ten years ago, and rests his mug down on the arm of his chair. How many children do you have?

I wrinkle my nose and kick my boots off, tucking my feet underneath me. He should know the answer to this. One.

But how many did you leave in that cemetery this morning? I stammer and grunt, and then sigh. Two, Amelia. You have two very different daughters by two very different men. Delilah is by no means a replacement for Creedance. If you're waiting for some kind of karmic retribution for her death, no amount of co-sleeping and dreamfeeds are going sate your fear. There is no expiry date on grief and nobody expects you to just forget about Cree now. But Delilah is not her reincarnation or second coming, and you need to learn to discern the difference between your two daughters. 

We sit in silence for a while, the antique grandfather clock ticking away the seconds like it always used to. I remember sitting like this for an hour every week while my dad sat outside concocting new cock and bull reasons for my absence. He always knew that something underhand was going on between Lucien and I, and hoped that I might reach out to a stranger, a very expensive stranger. Dr Cooper would talk me around in petulant circles until I'd crack and blurt out a little nugget of a confession for him to mine. He's the only person who knows exactly what happened in that bedroom and he's never judged me harshly because he's paid too well and has heard much worse. 

How have you coped with your memories for the past nine years, Amelia? He breaks the silence and reaches over for my empty mug. Your relationship with your husband has made for some highly interesting reading, but how did you get by before he turned up?

My face splits into a grin at the thought of Coops scouring over gossip blogs and rock magazines. "I never had you down as an RAE fan. He shrugs casually, and it’s almost a confession that he's a secret mosher. Alcohol, music and casual sex."

Which you controlled? I pull a face at him dubiously and bite my lip. I know what he's thinking - power shift. And then he came along and grounded you, didn't he? Took away that fear of intimacy that manifested itself in a phobia, and opened you back up to a world you have only known to coexist with pain and degradation.

He's a walking emotional trigger, I laugh helplessly. CJ might have sent me right off the deep end and very nearly did, but he has his own mental ex with a penchant for whips and chains, and he's the only one who knows the truth behind my scars. He's safe. And too despicably nice to ever cause me any intentional harm. Any time he ever hurt me was accidental.

Coops carries our mugs back over to the table and circles around to his desk. I think he may be the best therapy that you could have ever hoped to find but I think he needs to learn to deal with that dead stare in your eyes when you put on your 'stage face' and let you push past those barriers with him again, like you've had to before. I think he's inadvertently holding you back. He pulls a diary out of his drawer and opens it when he slumps back down into his armchair. Why don't you drop by with him and your daughter before you head back home tomorrow?

I snort and grab my boots from the ground with a snap. No way. Nobody can know that I came back here.

You still think that you're weak for asking for help. I raise an eyebrow and scowl. My band mates would piss themselves laughing if they found out that I'd hired a psychiatrist after spending six years insisting that I could manage my neuroses quite capably on my own. I think that being able to admit that you need help after all this time makes you a stronger person than most, Amelia.

You have to say that or you'd be out of a job.

I’M IMMEDIATLEY SWEPT up in CJ's arms the second I step through the door into Mackenzie's house, and he grabs me so forcefully that it's almost winding. I can feel him shaking around me, like I've been missing for forty years in somebody’s basement or something. Um, hello.

Where have you been, girl? He pulls back and grips me by the shoulders, dewy eyed and looking mithered. 

I've been...