He opened the door and she was there; breathtakingly beautiful. The rain dripping down her face, sliding down her nose, rolling along her lips, whatever the conditions were she was angel. Her hair, which is usually blonde, was turned brown by the wetness. "Hey," she whispered, stepping forward. He opened his mouth to yell at her, finally getting the courage to call her every nasty name he could think of but then it all disappeared in a snap, when her lips were suddenly pressed against his. She kissed him so passionately that he was lost; his head swimming and his knees buckling. Every time every time she did that he fell for it. Even when he promised himself, next time, next time he'll ask her to leave and not invite her in. Next time he would shove her away when she kissed him but he never did. Never could.
She pushed him back and slammed the door shut behind her, kissing him the whole time so hungrily that it was like she would die for doing it but didn't care. But he knew better. He was her toy. The person she went to when her boyfriend broke up with her or when she broke up with her boyfriend. She didn't love him. He didn't think that she loved anyone in the whole world. But she kept coming back
so that had to mean something right? Or
maybe she just kept coming back because he let her. And
even though he knew it was wrong and even though he had every reason not to
he loved her.
"Come on," she purred seductively and yanked him into the bedroom. The bedroom he couldn't even call his anymore
because of her. Whenever he saw that bed it reeked of memories of her and he couldn't stand it. It physically hurt him. Sometimes even her sweet heavenly scent still hung in the room, torturing him further. Weren't you supposed to feel safe and comfortable in your own home?
she destroyed every sense of safety, comfort or happiness he had ever felt there
but he was too poor to move so he couldn't do anything about it.
"You are mine," she murmured as she shoved him back. He stumbled onto the bed, landing on his back, eyes wide, always shocked at her boldness. She shredded off her shirt and skirt then climbed on top of him, making him swallow loudly. Her finger travelled from the base of his ear, down his neck, to his collarbone. She didn't know how true that little sentence was
or maybe she did. He remembered all those nights he lay on the couch, his ears ringing in the silence. Him trembling in the cold wanting so badly for her to show up, yet praying she wouldn't. She was always in his mind and he could never get her out.
Please, please, please, he thought as her touches and kisses drove him to a high pitched fever. He didn't even know what he was begging for; for her to stop? To keep going? Or for it to never end? Somehow she had gotten his shirt off and her hand was now fumbling for his jean buttons. She always shook at that part. He never understood why. Maybe her desperation to do it
but it definitely wasn't emotion.
"You're killing me," he managed to choke out, his whole body trembling, and his face full of sweat. You are killing me every day. Every hour. Every minute. Every second. You are killing me. You haunt my mind. You chew at my heart. You drive me to pieces and I can't fight back. And do you want to know why? Because I love you. I could never hurt you. There is nothing I can do. And you know it. You use me. You use me for you games. Your need. Your want. But I am never good enough for you. I can never be. I am imperfect to your eyes. Or maybe you are scared that if you open up to somebody, they will hurt you instead.
"I know," she susurrated finally pulling down his jeans. You are killing me. Stop. Stop! Stop please
please. He wanted to say it out loud. His whole being was cringing, aching, moaning for her next touch that would drive him to insanity like it always does. Love me! Just say it! Say you love me. Even if it's a lie. I won't care. I need to hear those words or I fear I won't be able to breathe again. He wanted to scream, to beg, to plead. Please, please, please. But he knew it was impossible. She would never utter those words in a million years.
Then without warning she was everywhere and he was drowning. But all he could think about was that she didn't care. Not at all. You don't care. You never have and never will. If I died tomorrow you wouldn't shed a tear. If I got run over by a car and died that way you wouldn't even blink a pretty eyelash. If I killed myself you wouldn't even visit my grave. You would just move on and get a new toy. Someone else you can destroy bit by bit, until they wouldn't be able to stand it anymore.
His heart pounded so violently he thought it was going to explode. He grabbed her desperately, clenching her tightly against him, knowing if she stopped now, he wouldn't be able to live tomorrow. Just say it, he thought. Please say you love me. I need you and you need me. Couldn't that count as love? But he knew it didn't. He was lost. Lost so deeply, he knew he would never be able to find his way out again.