Happy Ending Love Story

a quickie

Jake sat in the corner of the bedroom, crying pathetically as he squeezed his soft and fleshy 300-pound body so tight, he cut off his own breathing without realizing it. His lungs felt like a truck parked on them, which only made his panic attack feel more like a violent assault, slashing and burning every fragment of the fragile self-confidence he had built over the previous weeks since the last time he was right here, doing the same thing, suffering the same pain. 

She’s leaving me and I’m gonna die.

She’s leaving me and I’m gonna kill myself.

The two sentences were on a frantic loop inside his head, each cycle making his heart beat faster and hurt harder. He imagined himself reaching inside his chest to grab his broken heart and squeeze it until it burst, putting it and himself out of all misery. 

He screamed: “I’M SORRY! I’M SO SORRY!”

He screamed in a voice that held every ounce of pain he ever felt, from his sob story childhood to his wasted adulthood to his suicidal present - every mistake, every ache, every dip into the whirlpool of turmoil that lurked in his subconsciousness, which always waited until his most vulnerable moment to grab and drag him underneath its murderous waters. 

“I WON’T DO IT AGAIN! I’M SORRY!”

Jake didn’t know what he had to be sorry for, but he wasn’t trying to know. All he knew was that he did something, the woman who held him together was about to leave him because of it, and he would fall apart without her. 

Fifteen miles away, sitting in her sleek corporate office with a feng shui vibe, Debbie, the Vice President of McBain Consultants, the fourth largest consultant firm in the United States, watched Jake suffer on her computer screen. The camera she viewed him with was one of several hidden cameras she had around the house she allowed Jake to live in. He didn’t know about the cameras. 

Debbie told herself, in an assured and caring mind’s voice, that she installed the surveillance system to make sure Jake didn’t hurt himself. But that other, quieter mind’s voice, the one she listened to at a volume so low she could pretend it wasn’t really there, told her that watching Jake have these periodic mental breakdowns made her feel wanted and needed in a way that no other man had ever been able to make her feel.

Knowing that Jake would disintegrate without her gave her a feeling of emotional security and personal strength that she knew could never be replicated any other way. And all she had to do was insinuate that she might leave him - sometimes a direct great, other times a subtle hint. All it took for Jake to start crumbling was the thought of being without her, and she would periodically plant that seed to watch him grow into a neurotic mess of mental chaos.

As Jake quivered and cried on her computer screen, she slipped her fingers into her pants and masturbated. She climaxed when she watched Jake take a handgun out of the closet and put it up to his head and pull the trigger. 

Debbie breathed a deep sigh of pleasure as Jake threw the bullet-less gun down and unleashed another round of pathetic crying, falling on his ass and hugging himself. Debbie always took the bullets out of the gun before these episodes. Part of her worried that one could still be in the chamber, but that made it all the more exciting. 

She called Jake. He answered, coughing and out of breath.

“I love you, honey,” she said. “I could never leave you. I’ll be home soon.”

Jake thanked her and told her he loved her and said he’d never do anything wrong ever again and he’d always be hers and he’d have dinner ready and dessert, too. This is what made him feel whole. This redemption made him feel worthy of being alive and taking up space in a world that always seemed indifferent to his existence. The only time that indifference changed was when Debbie accepted him, took him back, and told him he mattered.

That night, Debbie and Jake had a wonderful dinner, watched a couple episodes of that one show everyone’s talking about, and went to bed for mediocre but otherwise mutually satisfactory sex, they both fell asleep grateful to have found each other, and live happily ever after, with a few moments of manic-depressive near-suicidal moments for the sake or orgasm in between.