The Things You Miss.

You forget the luxuries of living alone.

Blasting music, don't have to share the computer, can eat whenever you want, can sleep whenever you want, and can take up the entire bed without feeling guilty.

But you miss opening your eyes and seeing his sleeping face, coming home from a day of work and being welcomed with kisses and nuzzles. You miss watching videos together, laughing about stupid shit. You miss the showers and the dinner dates and the times when it was just the two of you. You miss the late night scrabble, and the moment of cuddling before you both scurry to your opposite sides of the bed, one of you almost falling off.

I'm meant to live alone. I function better when I'm able to do my own thing.

But damn, I'd do anything to get another week with you.

The People He Touched:. Lucy

This Is Not Our Story.

 
There is a voice only audible to those who choose to hear it. The carrier of this voice can take on many forms, use many tactics, and effects each person differently. What could save one person’s life could take another’s in just one quick moment. We know this. Our purpose is to give words to that voice, to inform you that he exists.

This is not our story.

We are merely the people he touched.

Lucy.

The first time I remember seeing him was on my fifth birthday. The overwhelming scent combination of hot dogs, french fries, popcorn and funnel cakes filled the air of what was supposed to be a church parking lot. Set along the left hand curb were tents with giant stuffed animals and toys hanging inside them. Right in the center of the lot was a small booth with a tiny window, where tickets would be purchased for the many rides and attractions they offered. On my wrist was a yellow paper wristband, that magically matched the polka-dotted bandana tied around the crown of my head. I was waiting for this fair since last year, because I was finally tall enough to ride most of the rides. The smile on my face was almost as bright as the blinking lights on the Merry Go Round or UFO ride, and my laughter was louder than the music. I held on to both of my parents' hands as we walked, swinging our arms back and forth, until we came to a stop. You had to tilt your head all the way up to see the top of this giant metal wheel, with 16 thin seats suspended between the bars. Your feet hung off the side freely, and the seat belt was a rectangular door with a safety bar. I take a step back and bump into my mother's leg. 

"What's wrong, Luchia? You've been talking about the Ferris Wheel all week!" My dad laughs while ruffling my hair.

"I didn't realize THIS was it!" I shout, then go quiet as the whirring starts. The seats go much faster than the one I saw in the movies. I hear a kid scream from the top. My stomach drops, and I quickly look down. Through the corner of my eye I see someone kneel down next to me. Thinking it's my dad, I go to hug them, but I immediately fold back in when our eyes meet. He doesn't look like my dad, but he also doesn't seem like a stranger. My parents warned me about strangers. But this man.. he was so familiar, almost welcoming, like a distant relative. He is young, looking similar to my thirteen year old cousin Gabriel. He has curly hair down to his chin, cornflake yellow with a slightly tan face. Green eyes shine through thick, rectangular framed glasses. I smile lightly at him, and he returns the favour. His voice is very friendly.

"Hey there, Lucy." He glances up at the wheel, then at me. "Not at all what you were expecting, huh? He chuckles as I shake my head furiously. "Doesn't seem fun at all, in my opinion. Someone could get hurt. I sure don't want you getting hurt." Normally my cousin would jokingly punch me, yet this person remained in place, arms loosely hanging over his knees. Even when he stood, I barely had to look up. "What looks fun to you?"

I glance around and notice the Merry Go Round, the hand painted horses and zebras dancing around at a slow pace to the whimsical orgel tune. "The Merry go Round." I answer him, and both of my parents look at me. "I'd like to do that instead." 

"Well, that's settled then!" My dad's voice takes over, and my mom picks me up. As they carry me to the line, I look back to thank him.

He must have gone to a different ride.

Second Thoughts:.

 I walk into the house after a long day at work. It's around midnight, and everyone in the house is either asleep or outside. I throw my hat on the floor, flip the bathroom light on and brush my teeth while looking down. It's just as I finish up when I hear a voice behind me. "You're really going to move, huh?" The tone is amused, almost taunting, and I don't need to look up to know who it is.
Quite a handsome man stands behind me. His ashen hair falls to mid back in a messy ponytail, and darke green eyes glint behind thin framed glasses. He stands at 5 feet and 6 inches, a little taller than myself, in black denim and a red satin vest. I glance up at him through the mirror and see his arms playfully crossed, the hint of a smile on his face while his eyes are serious. I don't show emotion, I cannot show emotion to this man. I reach for m ponytail and tighten it. "I am."

He nods once, then shifts his weight so he's leaning slightly backwards. "I'm surprised. You might have reasons, understandable reasons for wanting to return home, yet your dad didn't seem to have an answer for you, did he?" He saunters over and puts his right hand on my shoulder. "What if he doesn't say yes?" His hand slides down to my chest, and my breathing staggers. I look into his eyes through the mirror.

"He will say yes. There's not a doubt in my mind." I boldly say. A light chuckle escapes his throat and his eyes glow with amusement, yet he doesn't move. His arm dangles over me, his torso ever so slightly brushing up against my back. He thinks for a moment before he speaks again.

"Let's say he does say yes, and you leave your boyfriend behind. He'd be devastated, no? Enough to be unfaithful to you in your long distance relationship. Or perhaps.." His voice gets silkier, almost feminine. "You will be the one to find someone new. To break ties." He goes to kiss my neck and I move my hand just in time to where his lips kiss my middle finger. He frowns, and I remain strong. I will not let him trick me again. I can stare him in the face and not be pulled in. And so I turn to face him, despite the pace of my heart and the slight risk I take. He tries one more tactic.

"If perhaps you do break ties, whether it be due to another lover or not being able to handle being apart for so long, it would be a shame. Everything you sacrificed for him would mean nothing. Everything that you worked for would mean nothing. You would have wasted three whole years of your life." I bite my cheek to hold back retaliation and look away. He trails his finger along my stomach and up to my chin, tilting my face so our eyes met. "You would have to start all over because you have to and not because you want to. You would fall to pieces." As he says this his lips inch closer to mine, and at the very last word they meet. My mouth willingly opens to let him in, to taste and to torture and to give in as he planned. He holds me way too close and way too rough. As the kiss breaks he gives me an accomplished grin. "It would be best to think about this more, my dear. Let me linger for a few nights before you decide, hm?"

I am defeated. With a sigh, I let him take my shirt off and lead me to the bed. We lie on our left sides, pressed together with legs entwined. He kisses my cheek and in my lover's voice, says "goodnight".

"Goodnight, Fear."

He was in my dream last night.

I was finally about to meet him. I was home(as in, at my first house with my family) and Love was with me. They were at Love's house, for an unknown reason. I was about to ask my mom to drive us to meet him, very nervously, when they come through the door. I know it was him because I even used his name.

His girlfriend was with him. I smile at her, then shake his hand. That's it. Nothing romantic, no crying because I finally got to meet my first love or any jealousy. It just happened.

I'm trying to decipher the dream. Is this just how I want it to go, if I were to ever meet him? Is this my brain telling me I'm over him? Or my brain giving me 'closure' because I am indeed semi-jealous and missing them?

I guess I'll never know.

Unofficial Girlfriend

I haven't gotten into much of my personal stuff regarding my recent self discovery, but as you may know I'm openly pansexual. I've been physically and emotionally attracted to transgender, female, male, and everywhere in between, and will happily make it aware. Though in the three relationships I've had, they've always been straight and male, and I've never actually got to explore that other side of me. Never got to kiss, cuddle, or date a girl. Never got to ask one out on a date or confess my affection towards them or anything of the like. It was that fact that brought me to ask my love for an Open Relationship, so I could casually date a girl or two and find out what it was like.

The open relationship agreement stated that the two of us could casually go on dates, as long as we ask for permission and granted said permission from each other. If for any reason the other partner denies permission, the date does not happen. Restricted actions include any sexual act, but we could still hold hands or cuddle.

I haven't brought it up in a long while, because I know he's against it even though he simply says 'I don't know.' And I totally understand why he wouldn't be okay with it. But that part of me still exists.

So, my mind got me to believe that I'm kinda sorta dating a new friend of mine, who is also a co worker. It's almost scary how much we have in common, from our work ethic to interests right down to our taste in music. We've hung out several times, unofficial dinner dates and festivals. We've never done anything intimate, and since we both are in committed relationships, probably never will. She's just a friend as the definition of one would go, and I'm perfectly fine with that.

If the situation were different, we probably would be in a relationship. I wouldn't be surprised if she thought this too. But for now, we can be the dorky friends that we currently are and fangirl over Jpop idols as we impatiently wait for Momusu's October concert.

Too Cold For Angels To Fly:. Chapter Five:.The Explicit Version

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 sitting on a bed 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. Very clearly, as if watching a movie, I can hear what's going on.


"You know the deal, hun. Money first." Her voice is firm, yet sexy. His is borderline drunk, gravely.


"And what if I don't like what I get?"


"This is the third time this month, I'm pretty sure you like what you get." She lifts herself from the bed, takes a few steps towards him, and holds her hand out further. "What do you say, sexy?" She forces the last word, but he buys into it. He fishes the cash out of his pants which are littered on the floor, puts it in her messenger bag, then makes his way right over to her. "That's better." She adds a soft giggle, wraps her arms around his neck and kisses him deeply. She goes to release the kiss, but he won't let her. He's practically forcing his tongue gown her throat as he pushes her to the bed. She goes along with it, helping him position themselves on the bed. She's tugging his hair with one hand, the other keeping herself balanced as he towers over her. She's gasping for air as he finally lets the kiss go, then gasping of mild surprise as he bites down on the right side of her neck. He sucks the patch of bruised skin as he tears her bra and panties off, and she merely approves with a string of light sighs and moans. She's used to this. She's mapped out what he does to a tee, and everything goes like it had two times before.

Until.

The client throws his boxers to the other side of the room, spreads open her legs, and goes to dive right in. Quickly she maneuvers herself so she's kneeling, despite his weight on her. "Condom." She simply says. He shakes his head and tries again. This time she rolls off the bed, keeping her distance. "You know my rules."

"Your rules should change unless you want to go another day without food." Her face twists as she looks down at her skinny frame, her ribs almost poking out from behind the skin. She sighs.

"Take your money. I'm leaving." Before she can even grab her clothes he grabs her, slamming her against the wall. She yelps, the yelp being stifled by his tongue. She's lifted off the ground, pinned on the wall by his weight, legs spread against her will. He thrusts into her without warning. She lets out a horrifying moan into his mouth, her body writhing. She doesn't want this. She's absolutely terrified, helpless. His lips leave hers as he rams into her again, and knowing better, she bites her lip to stop from crying out. His arms grab her wrists so tightly they could bleed, his chest is crushing hers. He speaks after the third thrust.

"You want this, you sick bitch. You need this. You need me." He whispers into her ear. "Scream for me, whore. Let me know you want it."

She hesitates. She's completely numb, trying to get away by forcing her mind somewhere else. Her tired eyes avoid his lusting, raging orbs of blue. He pushes up harder against her, removes his hand, and smacks her thigh as hard as he can. "Tell me!"

She's choking back tears as she lets out a moan and a whimper. "More.." her voice is shattered, as is the rest of her. He starts to soften his grip. As her only way of defense, she moans again. "Yes.. Nnh.. More! Please! Master.."

He likes that alot. A twisted smile shines on his face as he quickens his pace, leaving kisses on her neck. It's working. "A-aahn! Master.. Fuck me.. H-harder.." Tears are streaming down her face, but he doesn't even notice. Without warning he pulls out of her and removes his body, letting her drop to the floor. She wants to move. She wants to run right out of there, away from him. But she can't. He picks her up by the hair and drags her over to the bed, throwing her onto her stomach. Her eyes widen, holding a silent prayer that he doesn't do what she thinks he's going to. I hear myself cursing him off, but I'm not there. He can't hear anything but panting, groaning. He lets out a cackle that slices right through the ears as he lifts her ass up, finds the hole that hasn't been used, and slams into her. A blood-curding scream echoes throughout the room. He slaps her again on the side, hitting her rib cage. I try to hard to open my eyes, to get away from this, but I'm just as helpless as her. She's clawing the sheets, biting down on her lip, hard. "Stop.." She's barely audible, but he hears it. He slaps her again.

"Wrong word, Angel baby. Make your master cum. Tell him what he wants to hear."

She's gasping, holding back sobs with each thrust, trying to gather words despite the lump in her throat. Her lip is bleeding, as are her wrists. She can't get herself to speak, so she tries to move in time with his thrusts. He growls, grabbing her breast with one hand and squeezing it as hard as he can. She has to speak to save herself. She starts with a light moan. "Master.. I want all of you inside of me. Now.. Nh.. Please!" He stills, pushing as far as he can go, and dumps everything inside of her. He lets her drop as he pulls out of her, and stands back to see the girl he just destroyed. He shakes his head, grabs his clothes from the other side of the room, and dresses with ease. His final words to her:

"I'll let you keep the money. Until next time, Angel Baby."

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. I sigh deeply, trying to forget what I just witnessed. It left me with so many questions, so much that I needed to know. Only, I didn't need to know. It wasn't any of my business and wouldn't help her in any way. She notices the grave look on my face and cocks her head to the side. "What is it, Olli?"

"..May I ask you about your 'job'?" I made sure to use air quotes, getting a somewhat bitter laugh from Angel. She looks back down at the toy, and sets it down, hugging her knees.

"Sure. I'm assuming that's what the dream was about."

"You know me too well." I sigh, trying to think of where to start. "I don't even know what to ask."

She nods. "Not an easy thing to talk about unless you're a client." She laughs. I don't. Clearing her throat, she goes on. "I didn't start out with prostituting, if that's what you think. After my steady job as a waitress fell through, I couldn't get rehired. The only place that even called me back for an interview was a strip bar. Started as a bartender, but then they saw what I'm like when I have too much to drink and made me a performer. It paid well." Silence. her face changes. "But it wasn't enough to get myself in a stable spot. So one of the customers said they'd pay me for a night with me all to themselves. Needless to say I said yes. But I still had standards."

"Standards?" It was starting to sound like my dream. I shiver, and she pretends not to notice.

"Have to be paid first. Otherwise there's a good chance of not getting paid at all." Her eyes meet mine for a quick moment before looking away. "No video cameras, no people watching. No drugs, though alcohol is okay. But most importantly, they have to use a condom." My stomach lurches. My mouth moves without me knowing.

"Has anyone taken advantage of that rule?"

She goes silent, and my heart breaks all over again. "There's always that one person once in a while. But it's not that common. Most of my clients respect my rules." I feel my muscles loosen at this, and the tension between us starts to thin out. "I made sure to take the day after pill when it did happen though, so don't worry." Somehow, she manages a light smile. I catch myself smiling back. "Any other questions?"

"What's the worst thing they--" Again my mouth moves on impulse, but I catch it. "Nothing. Forget it."

"The worst thing they ever did to me?" Her eyes meet mine. She's flashing back to the bad memories. I instantly feel horrible for saying it. She goes to speak, and I hope to got she doesn't say anal rape. "There were a few who left without paying me. Then there were others, thankfully one-shotters as I call them, who were more on the sadistic side. " Her eyes leave mine again as she rubs her hip. I feel like I'm going to throw up, remembering what the demon in my nightmare did to her. Someone must've treated her that way, if not worse.

"Why do you put up with it?" I scoot a tiny bit closer only for our eyes to meet again, hers widening as I move.  I stop dead, but don't leave her gaze.

"It's hard to turn back from a life like this, Oliver. It changes everything. Physical labor. Diet. Sleep schedule, health, fear." She hangs onto that last word. "Not to mention being incapable of intimacy."

I understand that. If ever she found love again, she wouldn't be able to show her affection. The simplest kiss would make her shrivel up, let alone sex. For the safety of her partner she probably wouldn't give herself to him. And, even if she did clean up and find love, if they knew what she was before, they wouldn't want her. I sigh, mushing my face with both hands. I get a light chuckle in response from Angel. "Tired?"

"Very." I yawn, triggering one from herself as 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 smile. "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? 

Writer's Block:.Poem

My muses are no longer amusing,
the pen no longer spills red ink.
The clouds in my mind do not condense,
thus rain cannot stain the paper.
A blank slate, though cliche,
is the only thing I see.
Perhaps to mean rebirth,
yet the newborn does not go blind.
The faces are stamped on each letter,
even if it is not from nor addressed to them.
Ink can be smudged, yet the one who smears it
can still read the fine print.

Fear

My past is something I cling to,
not because I fear the future,
but I fear memory loss.

I don't want to forget the friendships I've made,
The love, the loss, the simplicity and complications.

I fear that one day I will wake up
and not know who you are.
I will introduce myself to friends
as if they are strangers on the street,
 and not dare to think that perhaps they
saved my life, or inspired me, or hurt me.

I cling to the past because of fear.
Without my memories I have nothing.
Wisdom, character, will power, caution.
I would be a helpless woman having to
re-learn the suffering and splendors of this life.

If I never meet you,
will it be easier to forget?
If I meet you,
will the past and present also meet?
Will they join together,
or drift even farther apart?