I know where this leaves me, know where you are even before you walk through the door smelling of a sickening mixture of cheap liquor and weighty sex with one of your numerous silk shirts hanging half off one shoulder. I know you'll come in with your hair tangled and habit will make you head for the shower, to fix your hair and take a shower, not in that order. I never did understand that if they're good enough to fuck, why you would sit in a shower that's so hot the steam sets off the smoke detectors and your skin turns...
Damn.
So, I'm not good enough, not even now, just a short time after you promised me, swore on this fucking ring that you'd spend your damn life with me. Fine. I know where you go, know where you go from the club, if you even make it outside, which is debatable half the time. I remember our episode in the stall, after all.
So, I should leave. Just one more time, Xel, and I'll leave.
That was twenty-three times ago, and I'm still waiting for you to denounce this sort of adultery bullshit and settle down.
I'm beginning to think you never will.
Asshole.
But I can't tell if I'm saying it about you or me anymore. How fucking weak am I that I can't leave, just do a simple thing like walk out the damn door and not look back? Why does that thought strike this inane fear into me that seeps through all my limbs and insides like some goddamn cancer?
I want to know why, but trying to get that answer from you just won't happen; you can't even see the error of your fucking ways. I don't understand how anyone can be that blind to not comprehend the kind of damage you're inflicting, the scars you're etching on our relationship, on me.
Or maybe it's that you just don't care, you sadistic son-of-a-bitch. I wouldn't put it past you; you seem to eat these feelings up like fine dining.
I can leave, leave and find someone else and never look back. You told me how attractive I am, how there's a following because of pictures you displayed without my knowledge. I can go and find someone else and make you know, make you feel and bleed the same way I do. Then we'll see how much you fucking laugh!
Damn empty threats.
But I won't stay, not again. I just can't do it anymore.
Can't, won't...
The footsteps are outside the door, speaking like foreboding prophecy and my breath lodges in my throat as you open the door, hair swinging back and forth at your jawline, the ends caught in tousled knots. Your shirt, the same color as my hair, is open halfway down, revealing the small hard kisses that someone else...someone else had left there earlier.
I want to destroy that smile; I want to destroy you.
I won't ask you where you've been. You make it more than obvious.
And as you turn towards me with slit violet eyes that are slowly prying open, I hold my breath and try not to back down.