Broken Love

by Lucy Harvey

  Like the coward I was I decided to unleash every ounce of that rage on her.

  I pushed back all the covers and discarded them to the floor. Taking Lily’s nimble wrist’s I tied another piece of rope around them tighter than ever before sure to leave an imprint. Lily arched her breasts in response and I smacked the back of my hand against her greedy nipple. This was about me not her.

  She needed to be reminded of the darkness inside me.

  Crawling to the top of Lily’s frame I straddled her face. I pulled down on her hair and as she screamed out I launched my growing erection into her mouth. I pushed my dick to the back of her throat until I could see the tears streaming down her cheeks. Lily wailed beneath me trying to kick and hit out at me in numerous failed attempts. The cringing sensation consumed me as I continued to fuck her mouth.

  I didn’t like doing this to her but I needed it. I needed to strip her bare and own her in the filthiest ways. This was just the beginning of what I had in store for her, to remind her to never try and make me jealous again. To remind myself and her of all that I am and will ever be.

  This god forsaken heart she had doomed me with began to crack and splinter and I watched the overflow of tears escape from her pleading eyes. She wanted me to stop but I couldn’t. I needed to do this, to mark her this way, for the both of us.

  The more I broke her the more she cried and the harder I became. I was a sick domineering pig.

  “You said you loved me Angel, don’t you love this side of me too?” I goaded.

  In no time at all I was drawing closer to my finish. I pulled out and showered my unruly come all over Lily’s smart mouth and bare chest as she coughed and spluttered regaining her breathe. The sobs came faster and her heartfelt cry struck me like a whip.

  “Ready for round two you dirty girl. That is all you are Lily, a sick dirty girl making herself believe she loves me. All you want is too be ruined don’t you?” I continued to goad.

  “Go.”

  “What?”

  “Angel. Just go.”

  Her safe word. A word I never thought she would have the courage to use against me yet here we were. She chose Angel because of what it stood for. I told her it was too much, Angel stood for too much and that’s why she used it.

  The last thing I said to him before I walked out of the door turning my back on him was to ‘stay away from me.’ Even after Roman decided to use his dick to repeatedly choke me and I used my safe word against him I followed him back to his, just for him to throw it back in my face. He talked me down from the ledge with his silly riddles only to throw me back off of it.

  He has a way with words that my mind was yet to understand. A presence that my body was yet to grow familiar with. Most of all he has a wickedly black soul that will forever have me revered and spent.

  My mind reversed back to the final events of our undoing as I remembered our final embrace this morning.

  “Morning beautiful Angel.” Before I had chance to fully open my eyes from our slumber he was on me. His grin plastered along the back of my neck, he welcomed me into his open arms by his token of endearment.

  I was sore and exhausted after he felt the need to spend the entire night making it up to me in the only way Roman knew how. I took comfort in believing he was truly sorry for the screwed up way he had treated me.

  “Morning Rome.” The nickname was to highlight just how tired I was – a warning to let me sleep in.

  I wanted to immediately swallow my own words as I felt his body tense beside me. I shrugged off the uncomforting feeling and continued talking (despite my exhaustion) in attempt to reconnect our touch and diffuse the situation I felt beginning to occur.

  “I cannot believe you are actually up in time considering what you pulled last night.” Slowly stretching out my limbs I smiled at how comforted my body felt. The bed began to dip as I opened my eyes.

  “Roman where are you going?”

  His hands flew to the back of his neck as he returned to his signature uncomfortable stance.

  “Have you ever heard anybody call me that?” He asked, kicking at the poster of the bed.

  “What Ro-”

  “Do not even say it. I am fucking warning you.” He interjected obstructing my line of thought.

  This Roman that stood before me soon took the form of a monster, I did not even recognize him. The way he was punching his fisted hands into everything in sight. How he threw around and smashed personal objects laid out in his room. He had transformed into a carnal destructor and for the first time I was scared.

  Then I left.

  “You’ll be back angel.” He goaded through his smug grin.

  Time is never the issue, eventually I always come back lower than I left. Pathetically crawling back to my constant – Roman. It is what he thrives off, what makes him stronger and every time I return it gets harder to leave him behind.

  Forever adding another lock to the shackles keeping me in his clutches. I am not sure how or why I cannot seem to escape him but now I am not sure I even want to. Even when he belittles me and treats me so disgustingly I still crave him. He makes me feel incredibly high yet deeply destroyed and I am lost trying to figure out how that could be, or why I even wish to feel that way.

  I know this is not normal this thing we share but it is when I am with others that it does not fit. I just long to make sense. Of me. This. My state. Can I run? Can I scream? Will he follow me into the next hole I carelessly fall into? When I am withering away from my own actions like all those times before.

  I am stronger than him or at least I could be. He will always be around that I am sure of - whether by my side or in my mind. Roman owns me. He shall always exist somewhere close enough to take the reins and divert me back to the track leading me to my demise.

  I can hear him mocking me.

  “You’ll be back Angel.”

  Their voices are replaced with his. My demons transform into him. Everything is becoming muddled and my head hurts so badly. I lash out curling my hands into tiny balls and smack at the side of my head, as though trying to knock out all the unwanted pain and confusion.

  Am I just a game to him? The image of him laughing with his smugness and knowledge haunts me. I had that once and I was always thirsty for more of this life. Where did that girl go? The one wrapped up in her own delusional enchantment. She surfaces sometimes or at least others can still see her but I don’t, I don’t even feel her or what it is like to be her anymore. I cannot remember her. She is dying daily with every kiss or touch and hourly he is growing. Or they are growing. I’m just not so sure anymore.

  My friends can see what he is doing but even their heroic attempts of saving me are only playing into his warped hands. I will never deny that it has crossed my mind of how free I would feel if I lost it all. If I was not myself or he became someone else I would have the courage to say it all too him. But I am not and nor is he and it is always too late or too soon. It is what we don’t say that breaks us, not what we do. There is no real pain in truth just unwanted realization.

  He is there with his bent grip on my mentality before I get the courage to explode out of his control.

  It is what comes after the explosion that scares me, for in this fight I know my part, I have recited my script more times than I care to remember. After the corruption it is the unknown that haunts me. Will the tiny fragments of who I once was rebuild themselves and start fresh, safe and free or will they completely shatter into nothingness enabling him to fully possess me.

  At first I was unsure but now I am entirely clueless of whether I am referring to Roman or them. I thought he was my salvation but he’s enabling them. He is becoming my undoing.

  It was never about changing him. All I ever wanted was to completely bare myself to him in every aspect. He was my lesson and I was greedy for knowledge, longing to know the story behind every scar and bruise etched upon his beautiful skin. Change takes away everything that kept you grounded. What I wanted was depth. Losing my
self in Roman was a challenge and I was hungry for it. It was not just about knowing his past. I wanted to know every aspect and hidden detail of his entire existence no matter how dark or how ugly.

  I know I should have been helping Harley with the last of the wedding plans but I could not celebrate something that I would never have a chance of. It was selfish and I would probably win an award for the world’s worst maid of honor but I knew she understood. If anything I am sure she was glad for the extra time with Albie.

  Albie.

  She had only been out for a short time but we could all see her miraculous transformation. Could that be the same for Roman too?

  The more time I spend with him the more I see I am getting closer, at least I like to believe I am. That is why it frustrates and angers me when he takes us ten steps backwards.

  My mind relives the moment my hands traced the tattoo on his back, the one that captivated me all that time ago.

  ‘I’ll keep you locked in my head, until we meet again.’

  Washing the soap from Roman’s back my hands freely skim and redraw the captivating piece of art consuming his muscular back. He turns to face me and chastely kisses my swollen lips.

  I stare at him just waiting for him to open up and give me some insight into the hell stricken world hiding behind that sad smile. It never comes. Instead I am met with silent jabs probing into my already developed wounds.

  The thought of never truly uncovering Roman is unwelcoming and shattering, I can’t believe in never so I wash back the wondering with a mindful of hope because it is all I have.

  Life is not always about finding that perfect someone who makes everything magical and brings out the best in you. Sometimes you need someone who unleashes the deepest darkest elements of your soul and helps you find sanity in your insanity. I believe that it is about feeling magical even when everything they do is as far from enchanting as possible.

  I cruelly laugh at my naivety. Right now I long for nothing more than normality.

  A knock at my door breaks me from my endless cycle of wallowing in my own self-pity and I head to the front of my house to discover who it is. I know that Harley and Albie are out hardcore wedding planning and Cole has a key. Part of me hopes I will uncover Roman begging for me back but when I open the door to find Peyton I am met with relief rather than disappointment.

  “Eww girl, you look how I feel.” Peyton judged as she barged her way into my house. “I am never drinking again, I don’t know how many times I need to convince myself but tequila is not a friend of mine.” She continued whilst rubbing her head.

  I slumped towards my kitchen fetching two ibuprofens to ease Peyton’s self-inflicted headache and poured us both a glass of refreshing orange juice.

  “Roman keep you up all night?” She was fishing for why I looked like a hot mess without being her forward self.

  “There is no Roman.” I scolded.

  This repetitive conversation with my friends was both a dread and the highest form of embarrassment. I know Peyton was not in a relationship with Tristan but they were closer to it than Roman and I would ever be.

  “Okay and you think moping around your house attempting to look like your brother is going to get him back?” Peyton questioned as she slammed her empty glass down onto my kitchen side.

  As I watched her jig towards my bedroom I questioned her speedy recovery and her next actions. Peyton was pulling items out of my closet and placing them on my bed.

  Leaning against my wooden door frame I crossed my arms and proceeded to attempt small talk even though all I wanted to do was crawl in bed and cry.

  “What makes you think I want him back anyway?”

  “Umm maybe because the only two people who don’t see how crazy you two are about each other are yourselves. It would be a tragedy if you go through all this crap and not end up together. Like Romeo and Juliet just way raunchier and with more tattoos.” I laughed at her comparison.

  Peyton picked up the infamous crimson dress and waltzed over towards me. She had no idea what she was holding in her hands and the tears from that memory fled like a broken dam.

  “You just need to make him realize he misses you, he will soon come running when he sees you in this dress.” Peyton reached over to wipe the tears from my face. Life was always black and white with her and I envied that.

  “How do I become something he misses when he never even wanted me in the first place?”

  I leaned into Peyton’s warmth and shamelessly let my unaffectionate friend comfort me until I felt stable enough to stand on my own two feet. Then I carried myself from the comfort of my room to the comfort of my charcoal suede sofa and nestled in the comfort with Peyton by my side.

  “So how did you dodge bridezilla?” I asked her.

  “I told Harley I was exploding out of both ends and unless she wanted to catch it and not attend her own wedding it was best I steered clear to quickly recover.” We both laughed and a tiny element of grief thankfully escaped me.

  “You just know we will have to relive this hell when it comes to celebrating anniversaries, then when she gets pregnant she will become pregzilla. Imagine the kind of mother she is going to be.” We both continued to laugh picturing Harley as one of those perfect mothers that constantly pushed.

  Grabbing the T.V remote from the coffee table centering my living area I flicked through my recorded films looking for something uplifting and girly. In times like this I would have to avoid anything Nicholas Sparks related like the plague – that man had the art of breaking my heart and rebuilding it just to break it all over again.

  “Lily I don’t care how depressed you are it is no excuse to force me to watch this girly crap. You know Tristan has a thing for chick flicks?” She admitted smiling without realizing.

  I turned my head to decipher whether she was being serious or not and her facial expression seemed believable.

  “He what? Why? How? When? Why?” I continued to laugh, an hour with one of my favorite girls was the best kind of medicine.

  “He’s the youngest of six and the only boy, he says it is all he watched growing up before all his sisters moved away and watching them reminds him of that time. Beyond lame if you ask me.” But I knew she secretly found compassion in that fact, whether she admitted it or not.

  Peyton stretched her legs out to rest on mine and placed a damp cool cloth over her head, apparently she was back to acting like she actually had a hangover.

  “I think that is beautiful, like, why didn’t I meet Tristan first?” I pouted.

  “Oi hands off, that beautiful alpha is mine.”

  “So does that mean you are finally going to admit you like him?” I probed, as forward as she was when it came to feelings Peyton was a closed book where as I shamelessly wore my heart on my sleeve.

  “I like him there is no doubt about it but life is not that simple. Tristan is more emotional than I will ever be and he sets off after the wedding to go travelling, what is the point in starting something when it will only be short lived.” Peyton paused as though for thought. “You know more than anyone entanglements are messy, I am just not about that life.”

  I wish I could say the same, maybe then I would save myself from so much torture.

  As though he knew he was at the forefront of my mind my phone chimed with a message from Roman.

  Roman – “Light reflects from your shadow it is more than I thought could exist” How do I see without light?

  I was past decupling his hidden agendas. Instead of kicking and screaming or fighting or even question I just smiled.

  It was a warning – we were not over just yet.

  I seem to be falling harder, even now after I have tried to distance myself. Whatever it is that continues to conjure deep inside of me, it grows stronger with every attempt to destroy it. I remembered it was the joint stag/hen shindig and rehearsal dinner for my beloved brother’s wedding this weekend; and all of this would be for nothing. Distancing myself to just panic for a way to onc
e again win her over.

  Why does she want to change me?

  I may not be able to give Lily the stars but I could take her somewhere close enough to see them, so close she can breathe them in – almost touch them. I may never love with the passion that she does but could it not be enough to know my sole existence now depends on her.

  Since the beginning I had tried so hard to show Lily what I could never be rather than what I could. How could I show her something I did not know, something I was still figuring out. The rhetorical question that continued to haunt me.

  Sitting down at the mahogany desk sat in my office, I attempted to busy myself after hours of moping around my empty apartment wondering if this is how I will always let things be. Never before had I let my mind stray to the possibilities at a different attempt of life or ponder over what ifs, since Lily all I can do is wonder how things could be.

  Using my index finger I brush over the mousepad of my work laptop to boot it back to life. The screen glows bright in the dimness of the room I tend to lock myself in. I’m met with a beautiful picture I took of Lily myself. She has her unkempt hair swept back into a messy bun leaning on the top of her head. With her soft rosy cheek lent on the knuckles of her beautiful hands; her long golden legs are curled in front of her. Of course she is wearing nothing but a baggy t-shirt – my favorite item of hers. She’s lost herself in a book somewhere she usually likes to hide, I catch her smiling at something she reads and before thinking I capture the moment.

  In my mind I’m picturing her looking that way at me, then I realize the way she looks at me is far better than that look. That was when I first thought I could try with Lily, when I thought that I would do anything to have that look just once more.

  My palms begin to sweat and my fists instinctively clench, I punch my hand into the center of my forehead repeatedly pounding into the same spot praying to dull my over working mind. Why won’t I stop pushing her away?

  Turning my attention back to the laptop I scroll to my settings attempting to delete the picture but just like every time before my body betrays me and I am instead scrolling through my iTunes. Click. I put on our song. Ouch. The lyrics sting me. Hmm. I start to miss more than I knew possible.