ORIGINAL: Savior
Summary: it would take a miracle, you thought.
Word count: 921
About the story: I wrote this after three months of playing personal therapist for one of my friends. It was either write this or strangle her.
One
You hoped for something to save you. It would take a miracle, you thought. While you lay in the bed at night, sleepless, and your mind battled an endless war with your heart, silently you begged for the world to stop for a second and give you just as much peace. That wasn't a lot to ask for, was it? You simply couldn’t muster any more tears. After days of crying, soaked pillows and muttered prayers, sadness lost its meaning. There was just emptiness. A void, deep and dark like a cavern, right there where your heart used to beat.
Like someone drained all sense of feeling from your veins, you stared up at the ceiling and that crack that goes from the left corner of the window all the way to behind the closet next to the back wall. Numb. Bad things always happen to good people, it crossed your mind, and you promised yourself that one day you’d be the one to ruin someone’s life. You should. If there is a god.
Two
It’s your fifth cigarette in half an hour and you’re aware how obviously nervous you are. Probably everyone around can see it. Everyone around you probably knows why you’re here. You are so readable, so obvious. So pathetic. Through a cloud of cigarette smoke, almost like it happens in magic shows, first you see a blurry silhouette, then a clear shape, and then she moves across the way in your direction. When she stops - too close to you, but you wish it could be closer - and looks at you from above with dark eyes and an impish smile, your heart stops. That’s all you wanted, that is everything you craved for; just a second of peace, without a care in the world, without a heavy thought. And you got it from her.
You can’t help but look as she walks away: stern steps and a mighty attitude, and a complete mess in your head from how she puts down the tray and hunches over the counter to reach for a fresh glass.
Godhelpmegodhelpmegodhelpme, inside you scream at yourself, but it’s useless. You can feel another war beginning.
Three
This is a mistake, that’s the only thought in your head at that moment. Run. Run as far and as fast as you can. You would, but something is holding you down, it’s pressing on your wrists and it’s knocking the wind out of your lungs. Is it her voice or her hands that fly through the air as she speaks? With her, everything is grand: the words, the descriptions, the energy, the enthusiasm… you can hardly keep track. Is it the way she squints or is it the smile she gives when you’re trying to be resolute but she wants things done her way? Or is it that patch of porcelain skin at the small of her back that you can see when she moves and it sends your imagination into overdrive?
You don’t know and you don’t care. Nothing in the world matters now that you have her here. You want to run, but you wouldn’t want to be anywhere else in the world but here.
Four
She’s a little rough around the edges, but she holds a balance between sensitive and raw so well. She makes you grit your teeth and clench your fists and she just might make you give up on everything. You love her and hate her at the same time. You want to scream at her and hold her tightly in your arms. You dream of tearing off her clothes but she’s the one tearing you apart. When you’re together it’s an effort, a struggle and delight. You think you might die if one day goes by without her.
On the outside she’s a woman who knows exactly what she wants and how to get it, but if you dig a little deeper you’ll discover a fragile soul. You’re not sure should you protect her or should you ask for protection yourself. It hurts, there’s an actual physical pain you’re feeling when you’re not allowed to touch her the way you want. She pulls you in so close and then makes you slam into the wall around her. She makes you fly and all you see is how you might crash and burn.
Five
It’s only four weeks into her new defined self. She’s dealing with it so well and it scares you. Are you enough for her? Are you an experiment? Would she confess or lie if you confronted her? Would she break your heart and look away? You remember that room and the darkness and the void and you’re ready to do anything to keep yourself from returning to that place. This time, if it happened again, you wouldn’t come out alive.
Her eyes are full of promises. Her tears scorch your soul. In her voice, broken, rough and barely audible, you grab and hold yourself for dear life on every syllable that gives hope.
She can’t be this beautiful without hurting you just a tiny bit, can she? How much have you hurt her, you wonder. Would she ever confess it to you? Pride means nothing, you want to tell her. But it’s her way and one day you’ll learn to deal with it. You just want to keep her here. Close. As close as possible. Because, somewhere in the back of your mind you have a feeling she might be your savior.
The end.
Word count: 921
About the story: I wrote this after three months of playing personal therapist for one of my friends. It was either write this or strangle her.
One
You hoped for something to save you. It would take a miracle, you thought. While you lay in the bed at night, sleepless, and your mind battled an endless war with your heart, silently you begged for the world to stop for a second and give you just as much peace. That wasn't a lot to ask for, was it? You simply couldn’t muster any more tears. After days of crying, soaked pillows and muttered prayers, sadness lost its meaning. There was just emptiness. A void, deep and dark like a cavern, right there where your heart used to beat.
Like someone drained all sense of feeling from your veins, you stared up at the ceiling and that crack that goes from the left corner of the window all the way to behind the closet next to the back wall. Numb. Bad things always happen to good people, it crossed your mind, and you promised yourself that one day you’d be the one to ruin someone’s life. You should. If there is a god.
Two
It’s your fifth cigarette in half an hour and you’re aware how obviously nervous you are. Probably everyone around can see it. Everyone around you probably knows why you’re here. You are so readable, so obvious. So pathetic. Through a cloud of cigarette smoke, almost like it happens in magic shows, first you see a blurry silhouette, then a clear shape, and then she moves across the way in your direction. When she stops - too close to you, but you wish it could be closer - and looks at you from above with dark eyes and an impish smile, your heart stops. That’s all you wanted, that is everything you craved for; just a second of peace, without a care in the world, without a heavy thought. And you got it from her.
You can’t help but look as she walks away: stern steps and a mighty attitude, and a complete mess in your head from how she puts down the tray and hunches over the counter to reach for a fresh glass.
Godhelpmegodhelpmegodhelpme, inside you scream at yourself, but it’s useless. You can feel another war beginning.
Three
This is a mistake, that’s the only thought in your head at that moment. Run. Run as far and as fast as you can. You would, but something is holding you down, it’s pressing on your wrists and it’s knocking the wind out of your lungs. Is it her voice or her hands that fly through the air as she speaks? With her, everything is grand: the words, the descriptions, the energy, the enthusiasm… you can hardly keep track. Is it the way she squints or is it the smile she gives when you’re trying to be resolute but she wants things done her way? Or is it that patch of porcelain skin at the small of her back that you can see when she moves and it sends your imagination into overdrive?
You don’t know and you don’t care. Nothing in the world matters now that you have her here. You want to run, but you wouldn’t want to be anywhere else in the world but here.
Four
She’s a little rough around the edges, but she holds a balance between sensitive and raw so well. She makes you grit your teeth and clench your fists and she just might make you give up on everything. You love her and hate her at the same time. You want to scream at her and hold her tightly in your arms. You dream of tearing off her clothes but she’s the one tearing you apart. When you’re together it’s an effort, a struggle and delight. You think you might die if one day goes by without her.
On the outside she’s a woman who knows exactly what she wants and how to get it, but if you dig a little deeper you’ll discover a fragile soul. You’re not sure should you protect her or should you ask for protection yourself. It hurts, there’s an actual physical pain you’re feeling when you’re not allowed to touch her the way you want. She pulls you in so close and then makes you slam into the wall around her. She makes you fly and all you see is how you might crash and burn.
Five
It’s only four weeks into her new defined self. She’s dealing with it so well and it scares you. Are you enough for her? Are you an experiment? Would she confess or lie if you confronted her? Would she break your heart and look away? You remember that room and the darkness and the void and you’re ready to do anything to keep yourself from returning to that place. This time, if it happened again, you wouldn’t come out alive.
Her eyes are full of promises. Her tears scorch your soul. In her voice, broken, rough and barely audible, you grab and hold yourself for dear life on every syllable that gives hope.
She can’t be this beautiful without hurting you just a tiny bit, can she? How much have you hurt her, you wonder. Would she ever confess it to you? Pride means nothing, you want to tell her. But it’s her way and one day you’ll learn to deal with it. You just want to keep her here. Close. As close as possible. Because, somewhere in the back of your mind you have a feeling she might be your savior.
The end.