Too Late
It was meant to happen…
"I just wanted to know how you were doing…"
He looked down at her, his grey eyes enlightened by that aura of bloody tiredness.
"How do you feel?"
He wouldn't answer. The alcohol in his veins was still running too quickly.
"We couldn't stop it… I'm sorry."
She speaks. She dares to sit before him. In his house.
The kids are away. Gone. Wherever they are; it's a better place for them right now.
It's her fault. Everything was.
She looked down at her gloved hands, she looks miserable.
But never as nearly as he does.
"Why the hell did you come here?" He asks.
She looks up and blinks.
Her eyes are the color of wisdom.
Her eyes are slightly tainted purple.
A bluish purple; like some summer nights.
Like venom.
"I wanted to know how you were doing."
"As if you ever cared." She gets up.
"I'll leave. I have no reasons to endure your foul mood." He growls. He chuckles.
"You're right. Get the fuck out." She glares at him and finds the door.
He doesn't know why. Yet, he follows her.
She turns the knob. He catches her wrist, squeezes it lightly.
No turning back.
"What are you doing?" They stare at each other with intensity.
He can see she's hesitating.
She's scared. Scared of what he'll do.
And it excites him.
So he pushes her roughly against the door that was never opened and push his weight onto hers.
She tries to push him away.
Too late.
Too late as his mouth closes on hers.
Too late as his hands grabs her hips.
Too late as his fingers dings into her skin.
Too late as she closes her eyes, enjoying.
Have you enjoyed?
Gamesplayers