Light.next
Bright light.
Roll over.
Warm body.
Cuddle.
Open eye.…. the fuck! I sit up and stare at the sleeping body in my bed. Uh… that’s not a girl. I grab my stomach and run into the bathroom, tripping over some discarded pants and slip on a sock on the tiled floors. I hunch over the toilet, everything I have eaten in the past days comes up. After throwing up almost everything except my lungs, I flush and lean against the wall. I look down and finally notice I am completely naked. Holy shit. I just slept with Justin. My head hurts.
It’s a bad, bad, bad dream. I crawl towards the hamper and pick out a few clothes and slip them on. I don’t care if they’re dirty, I’m naked. I grip the walls, couch, anything that is in my way to help guide me to the kitchen. The floor is littered with beer bottles and I try to piece together last night.
Hot flesh.
Heavy breathing.
Justin.
Nakedness all around.
Wet kisses.
Tongues.It’s as if I’m in a movie. Flashbacks raid my brain as I sit at the table, my head pressed against the cold wood. I can’t help myself as I start crying silently. My sobs are quiet and only for my self-relief. Mother of God. Not again.
Bed.
Wine.
Randall.
Sex.
Fuck.
Condoms.My tears are much larger at this point. Snot drips from my nose and I don’t care. I’m in shame and all I want to do is hide in a fucking hole and not come out. He was seventeen the first time I ever had sex with him. And the situation was all the same. JC. Drunk. Justin. Heartbroken. Damn. It. Shit. Fuck. Jesus. Horseshit. The memories are back.
Jack Daniels.
Spit.
Timberlake.
Cum.
Suck.
Rim.I can’t hear anything. I can’t feel anything. I know there is a hand resting on my shoulder, but I don’t feel it. I can see his lips moving, but I can’t hear it. My eyes are blood red, my face is pale. The table is my only friend. Please leave me alone.
“JC, we need to talk.”
No. No talk. You leave. Me sleep.
“Please talk to me.” He starts crying. I’m crying. We’re both fucking crying.
I sit up from the table, drool dripping from my mouth in a long strand of spit. I bet a look like shit.
Justin takes a seat next to me and pulls his chair closer. No. Leave. Please.
He starts talking. But will I listen?
“Last night, I know that we were not in the right frame of mind. I love you JC, but I just know that we can never have a relationship. I know we said the first time would be the last and it should have been. I don’t know what happened last night. JC?”
I’m in a dream state of mind. I have tunnel vision. I see only what I want. I see a knife. A sharp knife. I see a sharp steak knife. I see Justin’s neck. I see the knife through his neck.
Please. Leave.
He shakes me but I don’t move. My mouth opens as my head slowly turns to face him. “Leave. Get out.” My face is sad. Depressed.
“I can’t leave you.”
“Justin, just go.” I find my voice. It’s much louder than before.
Shakes head.
I stand up and grab the knife in one quick blur. I see his neck clearly as I lunge for it. Holding the blade close to his skin and ripping a small cut into the flesh, “Get the fuck out! I don’t want to hurt you!”
His eyes grow with fear. I want to hold him and say I’m sorry. He is my friend. If not the only friend. I pull myself off of him as he runs from the kitchen to the bedroom to gather his things. I drop the knife on the floor and sit back down. I curl into a ball on the floor, blood on a few fingers which I place in my mouth. I am crying. Uncontrollably. And only one thought races through my mind as I forget my second homosexual escapade.
I should have killed him.