Page 1 of Break Me

“You’re just too needy.”

That’s what Jackson said right before he dumped me. Fourth time’s the charm, I guess...if the charm is another fucking failure.

I pick the wine glass up to my lips and take another of the many last sips that I've had tonight, while I run my thumb along the newly open space on my ring finger.

The day my usually self-centered ex walked in the door with flowers and dinner for the two of us, I should've known that the night would end in the shitter.

Turns out I was right. He sat me on the couch and gave me what I'm sure is a compliment sandwich.

Told me how great of a woman I am, then slid in the middle that he couldn't see himself with me for the rest of his life.

And finished it all off with telling me that I won't have any trouble finding my next love.

As if I didn't just give him all my love. I gave Jackson my everything, mostly because I was determined not to go through another failed engagement.

Apparently, my everything still wasn't enough.

The wine doesn't even burn as it goes down my throat anymore.

I feel nothing.

My eyes drift down to the dark red liquid in the nearly translucent gold glass. The wine sits there in perfect peace. Not even a ripple. Mocking me. Tormenting me with the peace I've tried so hard to find.

I never fucking win.

With a rage I thought I was finish with, I haul the wine glass against the bone white wall and roar with all my might at the sight of the broken glass and wasted alcohol.

"Damn you! Damn you Jackson!"

My heart is thumping in my chest like a drum, but the anger hasn't disappeared. With every breath I take, all I can think about is how bad Jackson hurt me. How bad they always hurt me. Not that anyone would ever know.

No matter what I'm going through, any time I open up and speak my truth, I always get the same response. "You're strong. You'll get through this."

If that's not the biggest pile of steaming bullshit, I don't know what is.

I don't want to be strong. I don't want to have to get through it. I'm tired of being the one to fix everything. This shit is getting old real fast.

With a sigh, I push the chair back, get up and walk over to clean up my mess. I kneel down and reach for the first shard of glass.

With my left hand.

The empty one.

Like a weathered ruin that one small trembling reminder is enough to make me crumble.

Gut wrenching sobs punch up and out of my mouth as I slide all the way to the floor with tears cascading down my cheeks.

I'm not talking cute dainty tears but ugly mouth open, snot bubble tears. The ones that hurt more than they heal.

By the time I'm all cried out the wine on the floor has nearly dried and I can't figure out how much time I've wasted.

I know what I should do. Buck up as they say, but I just don't have it in me.

I don't want to buck up. I don't want to do anything besides huddle into a corner somewhere and pout.

Instead, I get up giving a side eye to the mess that I'm perfectly happy leaving there on the floor for another hour or day.

Who cares? Who am I cleaning up for, it's not like someone is coming home for dinner.

Not anymore.

Jackson left that same night. His bags were already packed. It didn't seem to hurt him none to be calling it quits on our two-year relationship. I acted like it didn't bother me either. I smiled as he draped the two large duffel bags over his shoulders. I made it seem as if I agreed with him.

Absolutely. Breaking up is the best thing for us.

Of course, I loved the idea of wasting years of my life.

With a sigh I walked into my slightly masculine living room. I changed my decor to make it more comfortable for Jackson, I'm not looking to take on the beast of doing any more redecorating.

My eyes scan over the large screen TV that's mounted on my wall. I could turn it on, maybe lose myself in an episode or two of some mindless streaming show. I heard Severance was good. I'd been looking forward to getting started watching that.

Back when Jackson was here. It was on our lists of shows to start watching.

I roll my eyes as the thought crosses my mind. Nope. I won't be doing that.

It seems like everywhere I look there's just another reminder of the life that I'm no longer part of. Memories of Jackson and what we were supposed to be. I hate it.

I've still got two years on my lease in this apartment, and I don't know how I'm going to get through it. I need some time away. Some time to try to forget all the memories here.

With an inkling of a new plan, I walk to the back room that we used as Jackson's gaming room and turn on the computer. If he could use it to spend hours of the day gaming I'm sure it'll be just fine with a bit of web browsing.

Who knows, maybe this time tomorrow I can be on a plane to somewhere exotic like Ecuador or Brazil. I did want to do some traveling. Now I have nothing but time to do just that.

Yes, this sounds like a perfect idea. Some traveling.

Eat, Pray, Love style. Maybe I'll even find a part of myself I didn't know existed.

I mean, that's how it happens in all the movies right.

The woman goes through some serious heartbreak.

She travels to some far off place, and then a prince falls in her lap.

If that's not the recipe, then Hallmark has seriously gotten it all wrong for years.

I wait for the ridiculously high tech computer to start up.

It honestly sounds more like an airplane getting ready to lift off from the ground than a simple computer.

Finally when I get to the search screen I dive in.

I'm grateful for the distraction. I can finally do something for just me.

Find a place I'd like and not have to worry about how it would affect anyone else.

I don't have to worry about what outfits to bring or if there are any fun excursions.

This is all just for me.

I deserve something like this.

Right?

I mean, I'm sure all Jackson said can't be true. I'm not really too much for anyone to handle. I'm not that needy or clingy. Not that helpless.

Am I?

What I thought would be a quick search turned into hours upon hours of research.

Research that turned out to be more and more of a bad idea.

Who knew that kidnapping was rampant in Brazil, especially for single women traveling alone, or pretty much anywhere for that matter? With every place I searched when I did a deep dive about the area of the resort or hotel, there were articles upon articles of crimes that were being committed.

It would be just my luck that I go to one of these places trying to find myself, only to be truly lost at the hands of some mad man.

Yeah, taking a trip alone isn't sounding as glorious as I was thinking it would be. At least not out of the country.

Still, I refuse to give up hope. There has to be somewhere I can go. Some place I can just be while I try to get over this. Someplace to heal.

The rabbit hole that is the internet sucked me in for a few more hours. I went from looking at vacation spots to wellness retreats to sexual awakening clubs and finally found myself looking through sites that offer alone time in the wilderness.

I've never been a wilderness kind of girl, but maybe that can change in the right rental.

'The correction you think you need.'

The headline screamed at me as my tired eyes took in site after site on the search page. Before I knew it my finger had stopped scrolling.

Correction? Do I need to be corrected?

If I listened to anything that Jackson said to me, I did.

Well, not just Jackson. Michael too, and Bryson, and Liam.

All four of my ex- fiancés had said something along the same lines. I was a handful. Wanted too much. Bossy.

Once again, without knowing it, my finger pressed on the mouse until it double-clicked on the link.

When the ad opens up I just can't believe what I'm reading.

Need a Life Makeover? Call Him – The Self-Proclaimed Dom

Brought to you by the ex who narrowly escaped with her sanity (and a safe word I never wanted).

Looking to trade your independence for a leash you never asked for? Want to be “trained” by a man who learned everything he knows from bad erotica and zero communication? You’re in luck.

His “Unmatched” Services Include:

Instant Obedience Training : He says "kneel," and you're expected to thank him for the privilege.

No Limits, No Problem : Safe words are for amateurs. He prefers “total surrender”... especially when it benefits him.

Control Disguised as Care : He’ll pick your clothes, meals, friends—because “he knows what’s best.”

Punishment First, Communication Never : Why talk it out when he can spank the attitude out of you?

Consent, But Make It Optional : You agreed to submit once, which apparently means forever.

Bonus Package Includes:

Daily reminders that “real submissives don’t question their Dominant”

Emotional dependency disguised as devotion

A curated reading list of BDSM blogs he skimmed once and now quotes religiously

Don’t wait, ladies. He’s currently accepting applications for his next “sub.” No experience necessary!

Just low self-esteem and a willingness to confuse control with love.

If you ask him, he's the man who can teach you how to be a real woman.

Come check this no good possessive asshole out for yourself! Link below!

The more I read the rather shocking ad the harder I laugh.

Who in their right mind would think something like this would actually work?

I'm not sure if it's from this so called dominant or from someone playing a bad trick on him but it does give me just a little moment of relief.

Just one second where I'm not thinking about how shitty my life truly is right now.

But slowly my laugh turns hollow. This so called training could be exactly what I need.

Did the creator of the ad somehow know that? Did they know there would be a woman in the world, a woman like me, with no other options.

At that moment, it feels like I have something of a eureka moment. I'll never blame myself for all of the problems in my previous relationships but if I'm honest with myself it's not too hard to believe that just maybe I'm part of the problem.

I mean, it's obvious.

If four people are telling me the same thing, there has to be some truth to what they are saying.

They all said I was too much, too hard to control, bossy, needy...so how do I fix that?

It's my personality. It's who I am.

Am I really damned to be unlovable or can I be taught?

My eyes scan the ad for the hundreth time. It's says right there that this so called dominant can teach me how to be a real woman. Maybe they can help me mold my personality, make me be more desirable.

I shake my head and push away from the computer. This is absolutely ridiculous. What the hell am I even thinking. I can't go to some strange man and demand that he make me over.

This isn't a bravo reality show and there's nothing wrong with me.

Well that's a lie, if there was nothing wrong with me I wouldn't be here with four failed engagements under my belt.

Slowly, I pull myself back up to the computer and look over the ad again as if some of the words might change.

I did say I wanted a vacation. I wanted to work on myself. I wanted to forget all this misery.

What better way to do that than if someone take over making all the decisions for me. All I really have to do is click the link and register. At least that is what the site says. I wonder how many other woman are having these same thoughts? Will I miss out on the chance if I don't act now.

In a flurry of impulsiveness, I quickly fill out the form and put my arrival date as this weekend along with my phone number if any plans change.

When I hit enter a colorful screen pops up letting me know that I've taken the first steps to becoming a real woman all laced with laughing emojis. I still can't tell if this is a trick or not but I'm going to find out for myself.

One way or another.