There's always that one simple thing that changes your outlook completely.
For me, it was the closest thing to a fight that I've had with him. Only two sentences.
And one word I refuse to repeat.The word makes me cringe, and the fact that it was used against me..
"If you call me that again I'm leaving."
I meant it. And right after, I cried. And cried. And cried. I've never sobbed so hard. He tried to console me, almost getting teary-eyed as well.
And then, one by one, all of my fears kept spewing out from my mouth.
"I'm no good for you."
"I don't want to drive you away."
"You don't deserve being treated like this."
"I'm sorry.."
I couldn't get through work without crying, no matter how hard I tried. Even now I'm still shaken.
Just a simple word made me terrified that our relationship was over. A single insult. A true insult. My fault. My fault. My fault.
I don't want to do anything but sleep and cry. I try to keep on a fake smile for work, for peers, for him. I need to make him believe that I forgive him.Make him believe everything's alright.
But I know it isn't.
I don't think it will be.
Friday, July 12, 2013
Tuesday, July 2, 2013
Too Cold For Angels to Fly Chapter Five
We're in our old apartment, Angel and I. Playing a silly game of Batman-themed Trouble that we bought at a dollar store, and enjoying our ice cream sundaes. Her face is full of life, her eyes sparkling behind her thick-framed glasses. Her hair is pixie short, and she's wearing my class ring as a necklace. A school couple's traditional sign of commitment, yes, but she never asked for anything more, and I never thought about it. School first, family later; That was my way of thinking.
I end up winning, and she laughs, punching my arm playfully and accusing me of cheating. I tickle her, and we both end up sprawled on the floor with laughter. We kiss with our eyes closed. My eyes open, and it isn't Angel anymore. Still in that same apartment, but now in my bedroom, Jan and I are together. Her smile, though not as bright as Angel's, captivates me and draws me into another kiss. I barely hear the door open. I barely hear the 'clink' of something dropping onto the floor. I barely hear the sobs, but I can feel them. I open my eyes after the make-out session, and find no one there. I climb out of bed, open the door, and I'm no longer in the apartment.
It is raining. The streets are bustling with nightlife, traffic and clubbers and teenagers going on shopping trips. I'm not physically there, but I see a girl with a mascara-stained face with barely anything but a tube top and shorts on. You can practically see everything her clothing tries to hide, and that was her intention. A car pulls up, and she gets inside. She whispers something in the man's ear, nibbles at it, and the two of them drive off without a second thought. My stomach turns with dread. "Make it stop." I hear myself say, but the scene keeps going. She's at a sleazy hotel with the man, completely stripped to her underwear. He starts to saunter closer to her, but she stops him with one hand. She's asking for something. They argue for a bit, but then he sighs a defeated sigh and hands her a wad of cash. She smiles, kisses him, then throws the money into her messenger bag. I can't close my eyes as I watch him do things to her that only I should've done. My blood is boiling as he tears her bra and panties clean off, sucking at her neck as they position themselves on the bed. I look at her face. She looks like she's enjoying it, but I see deeper. She's terrified. She doesn't want him to continue. He's too rough, too thirsty for her, too drunk. I watch the entire X rated scene, tears streaming down my face. "Make it stop." I say again. It turns into a yell to block out her moaning and his grunting. "Make it STOP!"
My eyes shoot open as I gasp for air. My entire body is numb, sweaty, boiling. I'm enraged. I glance at the clock, Eleven thirty at night. "Fuck." I mutter. I only meant to sleep for a few hours, not the entire evening. I didn't even make Angel supper. Angel! I force myself out of the bed, almost crashing into the wall before I make it to the door. I hurry myself into the living room, look immediately at the couch. Not there.
I tense up again. "Angel?" I call out, realizing how desperate my voice sounds. She couldn't have left. She wouldn't leave without saying goodbye. I look out the window. It started to rain, not helping my mind at all after the nightmare I just had. My car's still there. Good. I pivot on my heel and race to the bathroom. The door is wide open, no sign of her. I check every room in the house twice,including the attic and garage. "Like she'd actually go into the attic." I scold myself. The backyard was empty, as was the front. I called her name every three steps I took. Nothing.
I slump back into the house, my entire body reeling, my head throbbing. "Where the hell are you?!" I yell, my eyes darting. I realize there was one room I haven't checked. The door was closed. With a deep breath, I make my way to the door and put my ear to it. I hear nothing. I crack the door open a tiny bit, and find her curled up by the bassinet fast asleep. She's hugging one of the stuffed animals we bought for the new baby, a baby pink rabbit. Thank god she doesn't have the disease-ridden jacket on her, or else I'd have to throw it out. Or let her keep it. She looks so innocent with the toy, so peaceful in her sleep, that anyone would have thought she was just a fourteen year old. Seeing her safe calmed me down, if only a tiny bit. I slump to the floor, rub my temple with my palm, and lean back against the wall. What if she did leave? How would I have reacted? I honestly can't say. Part of me would want to call the police, but in the meantime search endlessly for her. Part of me would be relieved to not have to deal with her anymore. But which part was more prominent? Which emotion would take over, love or relief?
Love.. I don't even know if you can call it that. Guilt. Fear. Hatred. Not hatred for her, but what she became. What I made her become. { "None of this is your fault. I just want you to know that."} I replay her words over and over. How could it not be my fault? I kicked her out of the apartment. I sent her packing, knowing all too well she didn't have anyone else to go back to. It was my fault. My fault. My fault..
Angel's eyes catch mine, and I snap out of my thoughts. With a yawn, though still holding the rabbit, she sits upright. Her eyes never leave mine. "You look like death." she states simply, rubbing her eyes. "Bad dream?" I catch her and myself off guard by laughing a bit too loudly.
"That doesn't even begin to describe it."
"Was it about me?" She knew. The two of us look away, and she takes a deep breath. "It's none of my business, so I'll leave it at that. But, for what it's worth, my dream wasn't all rainbows and unicorns either." She looks down at the stuffed animal, and wiggles its ears. Despite everything, I smile. She raises an eyebrow at me.
"It's nothing." I wave it off, and she smirks as if to say 'liar'. She still knows me too well. With a yawn she stretches out like a cat, and curls right back up on the floor. Her smirk fades as she zones out, eyes half opened, deep in thought. She turns. Again. Left, right, on her back, on her stomach. She lets out what sounds like a growl. I laugh again. "Can't get comfortable?" She shakes her head. I stand up, and grab a pink fleece blanket from the Nursery closet. "Here." I drape it over her, and she smiles a childish thank you. Both of our smiles fade, and I realize we probably had the same little flashback.
I used to tell her bedtime stories when she couldn't sleep, which was frequent. Most of the time I would tell her the story of how she was sent, like her name suggests, down from Heaven to save a reckless little boy from his self destructive ways. On nights where I was away most of the day, I would tell her a dramatized version of my day. I always ended it with 'But none of his adventures compared to seeing his Angel once again.'. It was true, at the time.
A faint sob snaps me out of my flashback. She's crying again, hunched over herself, clawing at her skin. I rush to her side, removing her claws from her wrist. "Shhh.. Angel." I whisper, trying not to join her in her sobs. "Everything's alright."
"Bullshit." She says what I was thinking. "I'm not alright. This situation isn't alright. We.." She shakes her head, and sobs again. I sigh, and pull her up on my lap like a father would to their kid. I lift my chin over her head, and pull her close, rocking her gently. It's as if I'm no longer her friend, her former lover, but a father figure. Or an older brother. The older brother thing makes a bit more sense. Her sobs stop after a few minutes, yet she remains awake. She lightly pushes away from me."I should try and sleep, as should you. Don't wanna be late to pick up Jan."
I simply nod, gently place her back down, and stand up. There were still things left unsaid, things that should have been cleared up. But I'll wait. There will always be a better time.
Won't there?
I end up winning, and she laughs, punching my arm playfully and accusing me of cheating. I tickle her, and we both end up sprawled on the floor with laughter. We kiss with our eyes closed. My eyes open, and it isn't Angel anymore. Still in that same apartment, but now in my bedroom, Jan and I are together. Her smile, though not as bright as Angel's, captivates me and draws me into another kiss. I barely hear the door open. I barely hear the 'clink' of something dropping onto the floor. I barely hear the sobs, but I can feel them. I open my eyes after the make-out session, and find no one there. I climb out of bed, open the door, and I'm no longer in the apartment.
It is raining. The streets are bustling with nightlife, traffic and clubbers and teenagers going on shopping trips. I'm not physically there, but I see a girl with a mascara-stained face with barely anything but a tube top and shorts on. You can practically see everything her clothing tries to hide, and that was her intention. A car pulls up, and she gets inside. She whispers something in the man's ear, nibbles at it, and the two of them drive off without a second thought. My stomach turns with dread. "Make it stop." I hear myself say, but the scene keeps going. She's at a sleazy hotel with the man, completely stripped to her underwear. He starts to saunter closer to her, but she stops him with one hand. She's asking for something. They argue for a bit, but then he sighs a defeated sigh and hands her a wad of cash. She smiles, kisses him, then throws the money into her messenger bag. I can't close my eyes as I watch him do things to her that only I should've done. My blood is boiling as he tears her bra and panties clean off, sucking at her neck as they position themselves on the bed. I look at her face. She looks like she's enjoying it, but I see deeper. She's terrified. She doesn't want him to continue. He's too rough, too thirsty for her, too drunk. I watch the entire X rated scene, tears streaming down my face. "Make it stop." I say again. It turns into a yell to block out her moaning and his grunting. "Make it STOP!"
My eyes shoot open as I gasp for air. My entire body is numb, sweaty, boiling. I'm enraged. I glance at the clock, Eleven thirty at night. "Fuck." I mutter. I only meant to sleep for a few hours, not the entire evening. I didn't even make Angel supper. Angel! I force myself out of the bed, almost crashing into the wall before I make it to the door. I hurry myself into the living room, look immediately at the couch. Not there.
I tense up again. "Angel?" I call out, realizing how desperate my voice sounds. She couldn't have left. She wouldn't leave without saying goodbye. I look out the window. It started to rain, not helping my mind at all after the nightmare I just had. My car's still there. Good. I pivot on my heel and race to the bathroom. The door is wide open, no sign of her. I check every room in the house twice,including the attic and garage. "Like she'd actually go into the attic." I scold myself. The backyard was empty, as was the front. I called her name every three steps I took. Nothing.
I slump back into the house, my entire body reeling, my head throbbing. "Where the hell are you?!" I yell, my eyes darting. I realize there was one room I haven't checked. The door was closed. With a deep breath, I make my way to the door and put my ear to it. I hear nothing. I crack the door open a tiny bit, and find her curled up by the bassinet fast asleep. She's hugging one of the stuffed animals we bought for the new baby, a baby pink rabbit. Thank god she doesn't have the disease-ridden jacket on her, or else I'd have to throw it out. Or let her keep it. She looks so innocent with the toy, so peaceful in her sleep, that anyone would have thought she was just a fourteen year old. Seeing her safe calmed me down, if only a tiny bit. I slump to the floor, rub my temple with my palm, and lean back against the wall. What if she did leave? How would I have reacted? I honestly can't say. Part of me would want to call the police, but in the meantime search endlessly for her. Part of me would be relieved to not have to deal with her anymore. But which part was more prominent? Which emotion would take over, love or relief?
Love.. I don't even know if you can call it that. Guilt. Fear. Hatred. Not hatred for her, but what she became. What I made her become. { "None of this is your fault. I just want you to know that."} I replay her words over and over. How could it not be my fault? I kicked her out of the apartment. I sent her packing, knowing all too well she didn't have anyone else to go back to. It was my fault. My fault. My fault..
Angel's eyes catch mine, and I snap out of my thoughts. With a yawn, though still holding the rabbit, she sits upright. Her eyes never leave mine. "You look like death." she states simply, rubbing her eyes. "Bad dream?" I catch her and myself off guard by laughing a bit too loudly.
"That doesn't even begin to describe it."
"Was it about me?" She knew. The two of us look away, and she takes a deep breath. "It's none of my business, so I'll leave it at that. But, for what it's worth, my dream wasn't all rainbows and unicorns either." She looks down at the stuffed animal, and wiggles its ears. Despite everything, I smile. She raises an eyebrow at me.
"It's nothing." I wave it off, and she smirks as if to say 'liar'. She still knows me too well. With a yawn she stretches out like a cat, and curls right back up on the floor. Her smirk fades as she zones out, eyes half opened, deep in thought. She turns. Again. Left, right, on her back, on her stomach. She lets out what sounds like a growl. I laugh again. "Can't get comfortable?" She shakes her head. I stand up, and grab a pink fleece blanket from the Nursery closet. "Here." I drape it over her, and she smiles a childish thank you. Both of our smiles fade, and I realize we probably had the same little flashback.
I used to tell her bedtime stories when she couldn't sleep, which was frequent. Most of the time I would tell her the story of how she was sent, like her name suggests, down from Heaven to save a reckless little boy from his self destructive ways. On nights where I was away most of the day, I would tell her a dramatized version of my day. I always ended it with 'But none of his adventures compared to seeing his Angel once again.'. It was true, at the time.
A faint sob snaps me out of my flashback. She's crying again, hunched over herself, clawing at her skin. I rush to her side, removing her claws from her wrist. "Shhh.. Angel." I whisper, trying not to join her in her sobs. "Everything's alright."
"Bullshit." She says what I was thinking. "I'm not alright. This situation isn't alright. We.." She shakes her head, and sobs again. I sigh, and pull her up on my lap like a father would to their kid. I lift my chin over her head, and pull her close, rocking her gently. It's as if I'm no longer her friend, her former lover, but a father figure. Or an older brother. The older brother thing makes a bit more sense. Her sobs stop after a few minutes, yet she remains awake. She lightly pushes away from me."I should try and sleep, as should you. Don't wanna be late to pick up Jan."
I simply nod, gently place her back down, and stand up. There were still things left unsaid, things that should have been cleared up. But I'll wait. There will always be a better time.
Won't there?
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