(no subject)
so i wrote this short story tonight, cuz it more or less covered how i felt. give or a take a rejection or two from my darlin, and a hug or two from jenny.
Clearer
Through the hazy fog of hard liquor, nothing seemed clearer. She hadn’t expected a panacea, or a tonic, but she had expected it all to be clearer somehow. Falling ungracefully in a sprawling mess on the couch, she found herself answerless, and searching for an way out on the ceiling of a room that was spinning. She tried to focus but couldn’t. All she could think about were his hands.
Big, strong hands, with long fingers and bitten fingernails that sent her skin tingling and set her spine afire as they ran across her.
Hands that could force, had forced, whatever they wished. Controlling, powerful grips that left no room for question or opposition. Or self.
A self that had been whole in those hands, those strong arms, that loving embrace. A person who had found their other half in another, a true connection.
Truth? What about it had been true? That she had been easy and he had been desperate? That she had been used and abused?
It wasn’t his fault. She was a whore. A dirty, filthy, worthless whore. She’d been lucky to have him. He’d taken care of her in her worst times.
Worst times? Which worst times hadn’t been caused by him? Which tears hadn’t found their way to her eyes through him?
He had treated her well for so long. He had taken her out on dates every weekend, opened car doors and sent her a beautiful bouquet on Valentines Day. He had even worked extra hard to impress her family.
Her family hated him. Didn’t that mean anything? If her mother forbade her to see him, why did she even still remember his name? She was not allowed to be with him. Period. And what would her friends think?
Her friends had supported them. They were just protective and caring.
Protective from whom?
. . . Suddenly the ceiling above her was filled with faces. The disapproving faces of her family and friends. And a single face with blond hair and blue eyes, burning hungrily into her melting heart. Without knowing why, she felt a tear roll down her cheek. With a cry of frustration, she poured herself another glass, hoping to clear her mind.
fuck this.
Clearer
Through the hazy fog of hard liquor, nothing seemed clearer. She hadn’t expected a panacea, or a tonic, but she had expected it all to be clearer somehow. Falling ungracefully in a sprawling mess on the couch, she found herself answerless, and searching for an way out on the ceiling of a room that was spinning. She tried to focus but couldn’t. All she could think about were his hands.
Big, strong hands, with long fingers and bitten fingernails that sent her skin tingling and set her spine afire as they ran across her.
Hands that could force, had forced, whatever they wished. Controlling, powerful grips that left no room for question or opposition. Or self.
A self that had been whole in those hands, those strong arms, that loving embrace. A person who had found their other half in another, a true connection.
Truth? What about it had been true? That she had been easy and he had been desperate? That she had been used and abused?
It wasn’t his fault. She was a whore. A dirty, filthy, worthless whore. She’d been lucky to have him. He’d taken care of her in her worst times.
Worst times? Which worst times hadn’t been caused by him? Which tears hadn’t found their way to her eyes through him?
He had treated her well for so long. He had taken her out on dates every weekend, opened car doors and sent her a beautiful bouquet on Valentines Day. He had even worked extra hard to impress her family.
Her family hated him. Didn’t that mean anything? If her mother forbade her to see him, why did she even still remember his name? She was not allowed to be with him. Period. And what would her friends think?
Her friends had supported them. They were just protective and caring.
Protective from whom?
. . . Suddenly the ceiling above her was filled with faces. The disapproving faces of her family and friends. And a single face with blond hair and blue eyes, burning hungrily into her melting heart. Without knowing why, she felt a tear roll down her cheek. With a cry of frustration, she poured herself another glass, hoping to clear her mind.
fuck this.