spur of the moment writing

She was angry and hurting and did not know the word she was spitting at him like a venomous snake were being shot at someone who was past listening. She hissed at him all the swear words that would even embarrass the dirtiest sewers of London but still she did not stop. She wanted him to know her hurt and feel her pain and as she lay sobbing beside the bed, feeling as though her heart would explode she could feel the need to hurt him rising. She had not known love before him and yet the love she had experienced was now moving away from her even before it had a time to flourish and blossom and become happiness in a life that was cruel and torturous. It had bought her a ray of light that she hadn’t even imagined would grace her life again. All those old feelings of self loathing were bubbling gently and assuming to take over . . . just as soon as he closed the door on her. She never meant to be a bad person. It was just at times her inner evils left her breathless and shaking. Out of control and wild her inner ego kept pushing every lover away for fear that she might drag them down with her. Confusion was her closest friend, her insecurity her ally. They would not leave her even if everyone else did. ‘Please’. . . .’don’t leave me’ her voice trailed off, now pleading with him. She did not want to be alone. Her devils would be having a fine time tonight. Taunting her that she was too ugly to love, she didn’t mean to be a bad person but she had already been dirtied by the dead perverted cunt who had hurt her. He was dead and it was her fault. What a tragic sad pathetic way to die.

Can’t you feel my pain my love, take me with you. I w ill follow silently and never hurt you. She could see herself begging and shame waved and slapped her in the face like a vicious wave that roars in the windiest weather, almighty and out of control. She could not fight anymore. What more could she say. He was not for turning. So she stood up and walked wiping her reddened eyes. Erasing their earlier salty wetness. She knew what she was doing. . . she thought. Her hands urgently sought for a knife. She had to find a way of stopping him from leaving. She could not be. . . would not be without him. She had to stop him and the very thought had the salt stinging her eyes again. She did not want to be alone again. It had taken so long to find someone who could love someone as sad as her. He had come into her life like an eclipse, only his dark shadow had shown so much warmth and love that she wasn’t afraid not be to afraid. She had melted into his arms and felt at ease with him. They had connected so beautifully and now he was breaking a bond. Her sacred bond that in her mind she had cast upon them to bind them together. ‘stop’ her voice whispered. The cobra awoke in her again. She wanted to hurt him so bad so that she could stop hurting. She raised the steely sharp instrument high and thought about charging at him from behind. The fact that he was still there in her space, in her territory after hurting her meant she wasn’t to blame for her actions. She plunged the knife deep inside and at once the felt it release her off everything.

Only a mad woman can laugh at her action and the snake was hissing and dying. But she was dying laughing. He had seen her sinking to the floor and raced back to her but she was gone. He could not hurt her anymore because she was not there anymore. She was watching him holding her, tears flowing and mingling with the blood flowing from her heart. She could hear him swearing in between his pleas for help. She was gone because she could not be loved like other girls. She was not for loving, or for keeping or for holding forever. She was a delicate precious thing that would extinguish herself before she could hurt anyone.

This is not about you and me this is about what goes on in my head and the control that I don’t have. The daily fight I have just to do normal things speaking violently with the voices in my head to leave me alone. ‘you’ll be safe with me’ he told her. Her recollection of her dream had left him exhausted. He did not want this, he did not want any involvement with this. He wondered what he had started, regretted meeting her. It would have been better to be a coward and deny his feelings for her. Their paths had crossed but he should have known better than to try and extend the grassy foundation between them under their feet. Now he could not move on and neither could she. He had no love for her but she was a strange curious thing that he had been attracted to for reasons he did not know. She was not beautiful and at times her internal beauty also showed itself to be tainted but she could not be owned and that’s what frustrated him. He wanted to own her, he wanted her so much, in complete submission to him but she would not yield. She was her own person. She controlled her own destiny and she would burn any man who tried to take that away from her. He fingered the tattoo on her shoulder, gently stroking her to sleep soundly. It was an oddity indeed. Beautiful soft skin, flawless but for the tattoo. In a way he thought it was quite significant she should have a tattoo. It was incongruous, misleading like her. She seemed like such a delicate flower on the outside, who would have thought he would be unleashing such fiery passion and madness within her.

She could not let him go ‘cause she needed him to help her realise something. Her creativity that she tried to contain within her. She felt like a sorcerer with a crystal ball in front of her and in the crystal ball was her inner self that she was holding prisoner, frightened she would escape and destroy everything beautiful in her life. Maybe this accounted for her madness