I’m going to finally start putting my short stories on here. I think I might try to make a compilation of them in e-book form sooner or later. I would appreciate any feedback whatsoever. If you did read it, thank you.
Like it or Not.
My fingers were trembling; I almost forgot where I was. We were in the same room. Thankfully he didn’t recognize me, or did he? Goddamn, that night kept replaying in my head. I didn’t know she was lying about having a boyfriend, feeling hands around your neck making out with a total stranger isn’t usually such a bad thing. Waking up ten minutes later with the taste of blood is always a bad thing no matter the circumstances, under mine especially bad.
She was screaming and my face was numb, I saw a foot coming towards my face and all I could do was roll out of the way. She held him off for long enough to make a break from the room. What’s going to happen now, my bike was outside, I’m drunk. How do I get outside? I’m on the second floor, after the fall down the stairs I feel sober enough. Find my bike outside, make it home and pass out.
I thought I made it away with nothing more than a black eye and busted lip when I get home and she’s left a message on my voicemail. Apologizing, asking me to meet up with her the next day. That was about four weeks ago. I’ve seen her about six times since then. Now, I’m walking through a party and see him, maybe I was forgiven. Might as well leave before he notices me. Probably the best decision of the night. No problem, no resolutions, best possible outcome. She’s waiting at my house when I get home. She let herself in and she seems upset. How the fuck did she know where I live?
“sorry, I thought we could have a night together, I let myself in.”
No shit, you thought I haven’t figured out that much? “Well, okay” taking a deep swallow to compose myself from the previous ass beating I’ve had. “ Want something to drink?”
She smiles and kisses me, breath tasting of alcohol, “I already started.” Did I really expect much more, she broke into my house and is proceeding to get drunk. Did she even expect me to be here? About fifteen minutes pass before I leave the room to get a beer. She’s stocked up on liquor for the night, complete confusion on my behalf. “lets take a few shots!” I hear from the other room. Fuck it.
We never really mention her boyfriend, I’m too damn passive aggressive to do anything about her reckless behavior. I woke up at noon alone and satisfied, not remembering much of last night. Caffeine? Check. Nicotine? Check. I didn’t see her for a while after that; sometimes saw her in the passenger seat with her boyfriend. It was about six months before we talked again. And on the worst terms possible.
I don’t know why him talking to me made me so uncomfortable, maybe the fact that beating the shit out of a girl kind of promises he would be okay with raping one. He didn’t seem to recognize me that night, he didn’t even seem to recognize he beat the shit out of me for making out with his girlfriend a couple of months back. He definitely didn’t realize that I told him to stop when he pulled his dick out. He was much larger than me though; fighting him off was nearly impossible. The worst was when she walked in, right as he got my underwear off. The look in her eyes seemed to make something click, that look of recognition in my eyes seemed to make that night flash back.
“You fucking bitch” not sure who it was directed at to start with. Not until I felt his fist on my face. Another black eye, the last thing I saw was his bare ass pulling his pants over it. Pushing her out of the way.
“Holy shit, what just happened?” I gasp at her. She offers me a ride home, I immediately oblige. The car full of cigarette smoke and tension seems almost relaxing. We hold each other through the night under my sheets, they haven’t been washed in months and I almost feel judged. A feeling I haven’t had in a long time, drifting to sleep felt all too easy.
I wake up to her screams, rushing to the living room. She decided to use the phone, hanging up quickly. “Can I stay here for a few nights? I’m out of a house for a bit.”
“Uh sure, I mean, its fine. Is everything alright?” I try to sound like I care. She gives me a smile as to say, they are now. She’s wearing my shirt and I try to make sense of what’s happening. I shower and head to work, eight hours wondering if she will be there when I return.
She is, with a trash bag of clothes. “I have more stuff in the car, I’ll make dinner. Suddenly, this arrangement becomes a bit better, she’s a vegan and I have to adapt. Weeks pass and I haven’t ate meat in a few days, wondering why I’m doing this, remembering her telling me how much she hated him eating meat. I come to learn his name was Jacob, what my mother always said she would have named me, I never tell her this. It feels nice waking up with someone next to me, though we will hardly speak for days. I mention her paying rent and she disappears.
If it wasn’t December I would be fine with it, but waking up cold just has a certain miserable feel to it. About three days pass and she’s here smiling when I get home, she kisses me and let’s me know that she won’t be here as much. Immediate disappointment, but why is she smiling.
“I found a job,” she tells me, feeling satisfaction “I guess I should have told you, my parents own some restaurant and I’ll be working for them, I stayed a few nights to try to explain my situation and they were okay with it.” Those words echo through my head, I guess I should have told you; I was worried I had lost her and she felt bad about not considering me in her plans.
Months passed and we only grew closer, I began to feel whole. I almost told her I loved her one night, I knew saying it drunk was the wrong time. I didn’t drink again after that, neither did she. An unspoken agreement we didn’t need it if we had each other. Eventually though, she began distancing herself away. She left her job and slept on the couch for a week, I came one morning with her coffee and only a note was there.
You know I love you, right? Sorry I never told you that. Maybe I’ll get to in another lifetime. Love always, Rommie.
And just like that, emptiness. Some days I don’t feel as lonely. Her scent has left my pillows now. I think I see her sometimes, I never say anything. Maybe in another lifetime.
She used to whisper your name like a refrain and when she held you, you know, you felt safer.
(Source: cunty)
