Monday, January 2, 2012

Freezing Hands and Bloodless Veins

He had you in his grasp, it was all he ever wanted, and he gave you up again. We all know your side of the story; you left him because you had to, not because you wanted to. You and Darling Elisa moved on because it was safer that way. You see, there was too much outer influence on Blakeykins, and you know Sweetling, that was just too risky. Sometimes you've got to make selfish decisions. But what about his side of the story? I'm sure you've wondered...

Oh, the boy would've done anything for you, can't you see that Sweet? Can't you see? He held you so close there in the end, not because you were leaving him, or because those were the last moments you had together, but because all he had in him was love for you.

I have to wonder, what is it to be loved that much? Is it suffocating? Does it feel like you're drowning? Was it beautiful? Oh Sweet, I am so curious. All he ever had on his mind was you; there must be some redeeming qualities.

Enough babbling, I have a story to tell. He took you. He took you and Darling Elisa's truck (adorable little heroine that she is) and drove away, far and fast and away, and he kept you. He had you all a pretty on his bed, and you had nowhere to go. It was dark and scary and a little bit damp in that basement. See, he had to keep you safe. He had to keep you from me, and the faceless one. Oh dear, silly boy, he didn't know just how much influence we could leave on a man with so deep a love. To be entirely honest, neither had I, but I was made nice and aware of the fact.

He talked in long sentences about commitment and fear and loss and loneliness and cold, cold hands on his face. Hurts, loneliness, cold, fear. Who took advantage of who, I wonder? He talked of darker, scarier places than where he had you, and freezing breath and hardly feeling at all. He talked about abandonment. It was the first time he'd told you any of it, even if at least some of it had happened before you left him. Where were you, I wonder? He talked about how allying yourself with the proper enemies could keep you safe. Or safer. Some delusions are just delusions. He talked about Elisa in the greenest tone I have ever heard.

Oh jealousy, you are such a vicious mistress.

He talked for a long, long time. He'd forgotten to eat or drink or bathe in his excitement at your presence. He'd forgotten that you need to eat or drink or bathe or piss or... well, you get the idea. He moved too close and you shied away. He put his arms around you to hold you like he used to hold you, to embrace you as he always had, and your fear showed in shivers and sobs. He just wanted to love you, and you did nothing but try to run. You tried to run to the outside. Where you could have been hurt or abandoned or betrayed; where it's harder to survive.

Finally, he seemed to break entirely. It seemed the betrayal had finally sunk in. It became apparent that you did not love him anymore. It seemed he finally noticed. His affectionate tone, his protective stance changed in mere moments. You had to act quickly, because all of a sudden there was a knife in his hand and he's coming at you. You were scrambling to find something to defend yourself with. A board, a stick, a loose tile, a lamp. Anything. You came across a gun. It's not what you wanted to come across, but it was what fell into your hands. How did it end up there anyway? It's almost as though someone simply handed it to you.

Normally you're more rational than this in a fight. Normally you think about your opponent's motives and movements and patterns and weaknesses. It's what anyone with a lick of training does, but you've had a moment of weakness. This is the one of the few people you'd never dreamed of fighting, and let's not forget your waning physical state. You honestly didn't know if you could land a punch, let alone pull that trigger your finger kept brushing across. Your grip had never been so shaky, and it's not until he'd stabbed you that you were reacting. You fired that weapon blindly, in a struggle to survive.

He gasped, his hands covered in your blood, and he smiled. He smiled because he felt that sweet release. He couldn't ask for it. No, you see, he had to play it the hard way. You couldn't know that was the clearest thought he had in over two months. You couldn't know that the moment you fired that gun he was asking for it. He came at you with all the intent to kill you in his eyes. You didn't realize that stab wound was harmless until long after whatever was left of him was gone. He made it about you babe, in the end that's all he was about: you.

He had realized that he would be the one to kill you and end all those precious details you cherish in your day to day life, including Darling Elisa. And you do love her so, don't you? How quickly you've moved on. The only option, to protect you, Sweetling, was to have you end him. You had to stop his heinous devolution. And really it could only have been you, otherwise it wouldn't have been fair to him. You haven't been fair to him in such a long, long time have you? Oh Sweetling, Sparrow, you dear heart you, his last action was his most selfless one.

Funny how things like that work out isn't it?


  1. Go shove a cock up your ass, Shep.

    No one is falling for your psychoanalytical games and we don't need you to point out for us what we already know. There are things in a person's heart which are true despite what they may say or do or even think, but just because you play guessing games doesn't make you better or smarter or even different from anyone else.

    You're just a man. Or hot air dressed up like a man, trying to act like he's not as thin as glass, see through like cellophane.

    I rescind my earlier statement about the cock; I can't think of a single person who's cock would benefit or even change, really, from being up your ass.

    So go fuck yourself instead.

  2. ...Well said Shaun.

    But he is... Well, we'll just say it is a perfectly accurate summation of the events that occurred there.

    But I won't let it tear me down.

  3. That's the goddamn spirit, Tia.

  4. It's rather depressing to read this, now that certain context clues are out in the open. Oh well.. I suppose I'll let you keep your barely-hidden secrets. I only want for you to be happy.

    Though, Shep, do you really have to be such a douchecanoe?