I walk into The Silo with my head held high but my palms sweating fiercely. While my head tells me this is a good idea, my heart is already hurting in anticipation of what Rand will think.
It’s been four days since I was attacked and things have not gotten any clearer to me. In fact, I feel like I’m struggling to stay afloat in muddied waters.
Detective Blanton brought Kevin in for questioning the very next morning. According to the detective, Kevin acted shocked he was being questioned in relation to the attack and of course, denied any involvement. He was released after two hours of being grilled and maintaining a consistent refusal to admit to hiring someone to kill me.
This was frustrating, especially because the detective told me he didn’t buy Kevin’s innocent act for a moment. He had asked Kevin about the supposed will he claimed cut me out, and after a lot of hemming and hawing on his part, he did finally admit there wasn’t another will. He said he didn’t believe I deserved anything and that’s the reason why he said there was. He didn’t even act abashed that he kicked me out of my home on a lie.
This of course raised a huge, red flag to the detective and has motivated him to push harder to find my attacker, who could then possibly turn on Kevin.
The other thing that happened was Richard called me that evening, as apparently he’d been questioned by the detective via telephone immediately after Kevin was. If I can believe him, and I think I can, Richard was appalled that Kevin claimed there was another will and used that to kick me out of the house. He confirmed for me what Bridger had revealed just four days ago.
I was going to get five million dollars, the Jackson house, and apparently yearly profits in the amount of ten percent. Richard didn’t seem put out in the slightest. The best thing that happened was he assured me Kevin had vacated the house today to return to Vegas and I could move back immediately if I wanted. He also opened up a bank account in my name and transferred some immediate funds until he could get a larger transfer done, as well as turned my credit cards back on, not that it mattered. I had cut those cards up days ago, as I didn’t want anything reminding me that I was once Catherine Vaughn. I even went and got a new Wyoming driver’s license with my maiden name of Lyons, although I hadn’t decided whether or not to stay here.
About the only thing I have decided is that Rand has become important enough to me that I’ve decided to cut him loose.
I know he has faith in me.
I know he sees something within me that I just can’t seem to recognize myself.
I know, without a doubt, that he believes we could have something solid and long lasting between us.
Unfortunately, I just don’t believe that.
While it warmed me down to my toes when he told me that he was crazy about me and was falling in love with me, cold reality soon settled in as I lay in his arms that night. I thought about all the things that make me a wretched human being and felt myself growing colder on the inside, a slithering cloud of blackness filling me up.
I’m a woman who let dozens of men fuck me.
Defile me.
Humiliate me.
I let my husband force me to have sex with people who were as vile and disgusting as he was.
I let him make me have sex with his own son, for God’s sake.
I sat there like a doormat and took that abuse for years, and why did I do it?
Because the money and having a place to live was more important than my self-respect. At any time, I could have walked out that door and gone back to stripping. It may not have been the best life, but it was an honest one, and I could have gotten right back up on that stage and been able to support myself just fine.
But if I’m being absolutely honest with myself, and reflecting on the true nature of myself so I can decide what to do about Rand, then I have to admit I was perfectly willing to let myself be defiled and humiliated so I could keep the fancy house, Mercedes, and designer clothing. I whored myself out for a cushy life and that right there tells me all I need to know about my true character.
And that is not someone who would ever be worthy of Rand Bishop.
The only problem was that I didn’t know how to go about breaking it off. We spent the weekend together just hanging out in the apartment, fucking constantly. It was desperately pathetic on my part because I wanted to hold onto the physical pleasure with him just a little bit longer, knowing that there would never be another man comparable to him in my bed. It goes without saying there will never be another who is comparable in my heart either. Since I’m being honest about all the terrible things that make up Cat Lyons, I can also be truthful and admit I do love Rand. I love him enough to make sure he does far better than me.
All weekend, Rand was careful in his words with me, preferring to take more of a backseat when it came to talking about the future or feelings. I think he was giving me “space” to come to the same conclusions he did, but all I realized is that while I cared for him more than anything in this world, I was nowhere near good enough for him.