It's agony sitting next to her. Her lips are screaming to be kissed. Her body is begging to be felt up. But her eyes are warning me to sit still. They're glassy, broad and terrified.
Not here, they say, please.
Then she stands up and sways away. She sits with them because she knows they'll never hurt her like I do. And I hate myself for scaring her with our memories. But I can't stop.
She's just this girl who's gotten in my head with all her pretty things, spinning around me like a dream. They keep me up in bed until I can hardly stand it because I need them there with me.
It's vulgar. The reminiscences make her wince, make her sick. I've seen the lines along her willowy wrists, where she tries to pour out the guilt.
But she always comes back.
Because when it's just the two of us, the thrill takes over, and she knows she secretly likes it.
Suddenly she is looking at me. Suddenly the corners of her thin lips curl up into a diminutive smirk. Suddenly she had forgiven me. Briefly.
And she stands up, floats back up the stairs where she will be waiting for me. She wants it because she knows I can make her forget the guilt. Even if she knows it will just be temporarily; even if she knows it will raise the feeling of guilt once we're done.
She's always been a here-and-now kind of person though.
I hesitate before standing up though, because I know Quigley is watching me. I think he's the only one who knows. I wouldn't be surprised if he knew. We three have always had some twin-telepathy thing going on between us; even though we're not twins.
I don't dare look at him, but I'm sure he's glaring at me. I'm sure he's dismayed, disgusted by my secret. But she's waiting for me. So I make my way up the stairs. It's saddening though, the distance between Quigley and me and Quigley and her. We used to be so close.
Three peas in a pod.
But now he's just a third wheel.
x0
Vintage88