I try and snatch it from him, but he's too quick. He holds it high above my head. Janie is snickering, which makes me smirk. I meet his eyes. The white parts of his eyes are really red. In both eyes. I don't think much of it.
I am not reaching for it. I know he'll try and tear the towel off. I'm not playing this game; so I walk inside, with a clever spin and small smirk on my face. I never break eye contact until my body is completely away from him. Who am I? I don't even know anymore. I guess this is my strange way of dealing with grief. Should I feel guilty?
I don't sense him following me, so I turn around with the towel still in place, and look him dead in the eye. I need to orchestrate this perfectly. I once again have deceitful thought running through my head. I back up over the metal doorframe and inch towards the dining room table.
My hand is on the towel before my mind can tell it not to. My other hand goes under the towel to cover my chest with just my arm. I rip the towel to the side. He bolts towards me. Before he can reach me, I shut and lock the glass sliding door. My heart is racing. My body is wanting to run. He's inches from me. He's smiling and shaking his head. I walk backward slowly until my back meets the back of the chair in the dining room. He turns towards Janie, shakes his head yes. I turn around with my back facing him. Faster than my mind can tell me not to, I throw my arms up in the air and give a little stretch. I hear the door move. I turn my head around and see him lifting the door off of the track. He slides the door back. I cross my arms around my chest and run towards the front of the house to the stairs. I'm laughing so hard. As I reach the foyer, he's about ten feet behind me. I make a turn towards the stairs.
When I watch horror movies, I yell at the people to never run up the stairs. I guess when you're caught up in certain emotions, your mind just goes blank. I don't quite know this emotion yet. It's like a flirty fear. I like it. I am learning how hard it is to run up the stairs with my arms crossed. He is so close, I can hear his breathing and even smell him behind me. I reach the top of the second landing and don't have time to run up the second set of stairs. I turn to the right and bolt for the shower rooms. As I open the shower door and take two steps inside the replicated shower room, I feel arms around my stomach picking me up. I am immediately forced into a fetal position in the air with my arms still crossed. I am laughing so hard, I can't think straight. I can hear him laughing behind me. He hoists me up so that my back is on his chest. He puts his arm under my knees and holds me in a forced crunched position against his chest.
His breath is on my neck as he says breathlessly, "Thought you were smart, huh?"
I am still spurting out laughter, which is hard to do in this position. "I'm sorry," I hear Janie behind us laughing.
"I'll let you down, but you have to promise me," He said through breaths, "don't be such a fucking tease," He finishes with a laugh. He bends over and sets my feet on the ground, my arms still crossed. I turn around and Janie is resting on the doorframe.
"I should've warned you," She said, "He gets a little playful type rough when you do stuff like that," she turned on a beat, and walked away. I'm smiling like an idiot. He's still there, staring at me.
He takes his hand behind his back and pulls out my top from his pant pocket. He holds it between his index and middle finger. He bites his bottom lip, raises his eyebrows, and says, "Here, you can have it. This is not over."
I hesitantly snatch the top from his hands. He inches closer to me and puts his hands in his pocket. Holy shit. What am I thinking? I slowly uncross my arms, put my fists on my hips. I feel exposed, only covered by the thick layer of hot goo coming from his glaze. I feel his eyes on me. I feel his stare on my chest, and he looks me up and down. I say, "It's over."
He inches a bit closer so he has to look down on me, and me up on him. I tilt my head. "It's far from over," he whispers.
His hand is warm on my lower back. It sends sparks of painfully delightful lightning up my spine. He pushes my perky chest against his lower chest. I don't know what to do. My knees are starting to buckle. Hold it together, Hay. His right-hand inches up my back. His other starts at my side and works its way up. Whoa. He bends over so that his face is in my neck and places his lips against my skin. My hands are still on my hips. Each time he presses his lips on my neck, it sends a new wave of pleasure through my body. He reaches my jawline, and finally my lips. His mouth tastes like mint and cigarettes. He moves my hands from my hips, and I wrap them around his neck. His hands work their way all over my body. His left on my shoulder blades, his right on my breast.
He suddenly stops. Looks at me. Smiles. And backs away. My arms drop to my side. "Not even close."
SIX
He leaves me in the shower room with the miserable feeling of want. I fasten my bikini top with a snap, and walk out. As I do, Janie comes around the stairs on her way down. She reads my empty expression, "What's wrong?" She asks. I don't want to tell her just yet.
"Nothing," I answer too quickly. She knows something is wrong but doesn't press anymore.
"Okay, I have to leave for work, are you going to be okay? I'll let you use my laptop. It's in the room in the top drawer of my dresser. Hannah will come home when I do, and Jessica is staying with a friend tonight. You're here alone until about nine with uh- him." She says, as she points up. I now notice her yellow button up dress; fastened by a white apron. Her name tag displays "Janie Walton."
"Okay, thanks," I leave her with a smile as she turns around. I see her open the front door and close it. It takes me a few seconds to realize that I'm half naked standing on the top of the stairs. It feels like I'm moving in slow motion up the second set of stairs, to the top level.
I find Janie's pink laptop just where she says it is, and power it on. It's been almost a week since I've checked my social networking sites. When I log on, I have 56 messages. My best friend Amber is relentless.
All 56 messages are her saying, "Hello?"
Me: Hey! omg
Amber: I thought you were dead!
Me: No, i'm near Tallahassee in a group home. Adopt me?
Amber: more than anything. there's a huge rumor going on that you became a millionaire.
Me: i wish.
Amber: No, forreal. like your mom was hiding millions of dollars from your dads life insurance
Me: i think i would know.
Amber: they also say its still in your house. so many people have broken in to look for it, not me.
Me: holy shit. wtf?
Amber: my mom said the rumor probably started because they want to sell the house really high.
Me: probably. it's late. im going to get some stuff done.
Amber: when you get a cell phone call me!
I do a little research and find my old house on a real estate website. They want a shitload of money. It still hasn't been sold. I don't know why I am relieved to find this out. I think there's some part of me that yearns to go back. I guess my soul still thinks everything can go back. Just by wanting and wishing won't make my life rewind like a controller to a VCR.
I look down at the time, 7:45. My eyes are heavy. I turn her computer off and put it back where I found it. I decide to go downstairs and have a cigarette. I am down to only 4. I need more. The screen door slams behind me as I immediately light the end. I sit on the first step and suck away.
I almost pee on myself when Ward emerges from the other side of the wall. "Holy Jesus, Lord have mercy! You scared me!" I exclaim.
"You sounded so southern right just then," he says. He doesn't sound like himself. He's slouching a little bit. He looks at me sitting here on the steps and leans up on the wall. "You don't like to wear much, do you?" He asks. His words are slow and sound like they're mushing together. His eyes look heavy and glazed.
I have to look down to remember what I'm wearing. I have a corral pink tank top on, and sleeping shorts with moons on them. "It gets hot at night here," I lower my eyebrows, "Are you okay?"
"Don't worry about me," he says sternly, with no faci
al expressions. He walks toward me and takes my right arm. He lifts me up to meet him. I don't like the look on his face. I don't like his body language. I'm kind of afraid. It's just me and him here alone, this intensifies my fear.
"What are you doing?" I ask. I hope he senses my fear. He says nothing as I balance on my feet. He pushes me with force onto the brick wall beside the door. The rough wall makes my back hurt. My heartbeat intensifies. I think he might be able to hear it. I hope he does. I don't know what to do. The look in his eyes takes me back a few months; to a time when my mother would just drink. I've tried to confront her, and she used the same force as he is right now. I drop my half-smoked cigarette on the ground. His eyes are wide and unfeeling. My eyes are wide and full of worry. His breathing is shallow and fast.
"You think you're special, huh?" He asks, his face not changing.
"What?" I say in a whispery panic.
"You think you're special, huh?" He repeats himself much louder.
"N-no," I say, close to crying. He squeezes my arm, making the tears flow now.
"Yeah, cry like a bitch," he says with his jaw clenched. I'm shaking. I'm close to collapsing. "Fuck you, fuck your fancy clothes, fuck your family, and fuck everything!" He screams. His breath smells like something I've never smelled before. His breathing calms down. His left hand is still tightly grasping my right arm. His right hand moves to my hip.
"No," I say as the tears come faster. I'm trying to break his grip. His hand brushes between us, his eyes still steady staring into mine. They're a piercing blue. He puts pressure on my pelvis and tries to move down. "No," I repeat with a notable anger in my voice. I shouldn't have led him on. I should have left him alone. I knew he was dangerous. I knew he was something I should not have gotten mixed up into.
He stops, takes a step back, and pulls me with him. Without notice, he puts his right hand to my chest and pushes me with such force backward to the wall, I go dizzy for a millisecond. I hit my head on the brick wall and fall to the pebbled ground. My bare feet are kicked by his boot.
I'm not sure where he went. I am unaware of my surroundings for a little bit. I sit there shaking as my eyes get heavy. My mind goes empty.
I wake up in a fog. I'm in a bed. Not mine. It has blue sheets and a black comforter wadded up at the end. I'm wearing the same clothes. How did I get here? My head buzzes, and there’s an immense pressure on the back of my head. When I dizzily get up, I look back and notice blood on the pillow. My hand shoots up to my head, and I can feel the crunchy wetness of blood on my scalp. It's in pieces on my fingertips. I look up at a blurry figure in the doorway. It's him and my heart races.
He looks calm, with his arms crossed. He is wearing a white shirt with a little blood on his right sleeve, suggesting he carried me up here, and gym shorts. "I- uh," He started. His words are more put together and stronger than before. I start shaking like a wet Chihuahua. "I told you before that I don't apologize. I won't. But I will warn you: I'm not a good person. Never have been, and I know that. I'm mixed up in some shit now that's not good. So, try and stay away from me." he says shaking his head. He looks down. He's wearing the emotion of hurt on his face, almost like I told him to get away from me.
I'm afraid to move. I want to bolt right out of here, and out the front door. I notice the clock on the wall beside him says one. The plain white brick walls are covered in posters of women, and weird bands I've never heard of. There's a black couch on the other side of the room, in front of his bed. A large, black stereo system is beside his bed. The closet is full of junk, half covered with a black sheet.
I'm afraid to ask, but I do it anyway, "Do you need help?" I know he wasn't him because he's on something. He's been on it all day. I think he realized he was aggressive. He realized he went too far.
"Probably," He says and walks away. I want to cry. I want to run. I want my mother. I want out of here. I don't want to be here anymore. I break down crying. I try to force the emotions out with my tears. Maybe that'll help. My hand is at my mouth, trying to stifle a scream that hungers to escape.
I tip toe passed a sleeping Janie. I don't know why she didn't wonder where I was. I just grab a towel. I still can't think straight. I take a shower. I want the large white and pink towel to soak my worries away. I have things running through my mind that I cannot control. I saw about ten sides of him today. Most people would only get one a day, or even a month. I want to feel the side of him that I felt when we were in the shower room. I want to bring that out in him every day. The realization of what just happened came when I saw the blood swirling around the drain. That couldn't have been him. That can't happen every day, right?
I can't keep opening myself up for hurt and anguish on an already broken heart and soul.
I spent about five minutes at the shower door. I lick my lips, open it up, and feel the cold rush of air on my wet skin. Please, someone, stop me.
I find him at the island on a barstool. He's rubbing his head. I can feel my whole body shaking. I put my hand on his back, and he whips around. He looks me up and down in my towel. I know I probably look like a hot mess, but I don't care. What am I doing? Stop. Run.
"Do you not listen?" he says as he takes a drink of water.
"Just-" I start to say, trying to find the words, "Just give me the satisfaction of seeing another side of you before I completely ignore you."
The look on his face is plain. He licks his teeth. I see a metal ball in his mouth that I never noticed before. Even when he was kissing me. He looks away. His whole body turns with the barstool until he's facing me. He gets off of the barstool and towers over me. He pushes my wet hair off of my shoulders and takes one in each hand. How do you domesticate a feral dog? How do you calm a raging storm? How do you harmonize an angry man?
His face finds mine, and he sucks on my lips hard. Taking his hands under my arms, he pulls me up and onto the tall counter. I should be worried someone is going to see us. I should be worried about getting in trouble. I don't care. I'm in this moment, not them. This is happening so fast.
His lips graze my skin as his hands fall all over me. My towel shakes off its grip and falls apart around me. The way he sucks on my skin is making my whole body tingle and blush. The way his hands firmly hold my hips make my body want him that much more. His lips are hovering over my heartbeat. I tilt my head back in pure salacity.
I grab the bottom of his shirt and lift it up, and he tugs the rest of it off. My legs wrap around his hips, while he is feverishly kissing me. He hoists me up with ease and carries me up two flights of stairs to his bedroom, leaving a soaked towel and a bloody shirt behind. He never takes his face from mine, his lips stay hooked on mine. I hug his neck tight.
He sits on the bed with a naked me on top of him. He's still sitting up as I take command and start kissing his face. I'm straddling his erect body. His hands grip my back, and my behind, feeling my spine twist and turn with every kiss. My left hand is weaving through the back of his black hair, as it falls right back into place. My right is cupped under his jaw.
There's a sudden flood of raw sexual emotion I get from this: I'm making him feel this way. By body and actions make him want me in this moment. I stop to catch my breath and so does he. We stare into each other's eyes. I get a sense of sorrow from his. Maybe this is his way of 'making it up to me.' I hope he can sense the hurt in mine. This doesn't take but a second.
I know this is probably not his first time either, but for some reason, this doesn't feel like it's familiar to him. Something about this sex is different to him. Between the questions, speed, and actions I feel like this is the first real time for both of us.
From a dangerous man a few hours ago to this would make any girl confused.
For some reason, I want him to know how he made me feel a few hours ago, but not now.
My head is against his chest. I can hear and feel his heartbeat, and his deep breath as he pants. His hand grips the back of my head, holding me close to him. His other is on my back and also ho
lds me close to him. My right arm is bent with my hand under my chin. My other hangs off the side of him. I'm coming down from a high that I can't explain. It makes me weak. He kisses the top of my head, while I breathe heavily along with him. He leans and rests on his back, bringing me with him. He gently lays me beside him and turns his body facing the front of mine.
My eyes are heavy. My mind is slowing down. I feel my breathing slowing down. The last thing I feel is a blanket over us, and his hand stroking my face. My mind slips into a coma-like sleep. I feel cold surrounding me as I dream the strangest dreams. I don’t remember most of my dreams when I wake, but for some reason, this one sends chills up my spine and I don’t know why. I don’t remember exactly what happened. I think my mind blocked it out for me. I just remember how alone and desperate I felt when I woke up.
SEVEN
My eyes are partially sticking together when I try and open them. My eyebrows even lift, trying to pry them apart. I feel the pressure of a hand on my side. I smell the scent of a man up my nose. My face is in his neck, his jaw resting on the top of my head. My lips are pressed against his salty collar bone. I am afraid to move. I'm naked. I cannot believe myself. I can't break away from my thoughts, so I just fall into them. I don't quite know if I should feel good or bad about this. Is he just using me? Was I just a plaything for him? I don't want it to be true. I push it away. The beating rain on the window behind me comforts me through these thoughts.
He stirs a little bit, puts his hand on my back, drawing me closer to him, and scoots closer to me. I pretend I'm asleep when I feel his fingertips crawl up my side, swirl around my belly button, and up between my chest. The blanket is down to my hips, so I feel so exposed. He backs up a little but I can feel the pressure of the bed move. I think he's leaning his head on one angled arm. I hear his breathing hovering above me, so that tells me he is. My top arm flops down on the bed. I feel the pad of his thumb run over a very sensitive area on my arm. It's where he grabbed me last night.
Hot & Cold: Toxic Love Page 5
