A/N: I wrote this very quickly at a time when I wasn't feeling good at all, so it's not really something I am proud of, and also really isn't my usual style. Far from it actually. This isn't particularly Luby, which is a change, huh? Though at one point, it does indirectly speak about Luka, and throughout the whole thing, it holds extremely strong and bitter anti-Carter feelings, which is more like me! Comments are greatly appreciated, as ever. Thanks.
Dedication: This is mainly for Elissa, Kenzie, Josefin, Heather, Andy and Alice who have always been there for me and who I love to pieces! Thank you guys!
When I look into your eyes, I feel nothing. No love, no affection, nothing. I'm not mesmerised by your smile; in fact I'm repulsed by it. How can you smile when there is nothing to smile about?
When we're out in public and you reach out to put your arm about my waist, everyone thinks we're adorable; the doctor and his nurse happy together. Only I'm not happy, not with you.
When you look at me, I squirm. In fact, you don't just look. You scrutinize every single movement I make. Every word I say. Everything I do. When I see you watching me I wish you wouldn't. You're just waiting for me to mess up, you know I will. You're waiting for Abby's next cock-up, so that you can rush in… the knight in shining armor, the good guy, John Carter, ready to rescue even the most fucked up of people. Hooray for Saint Carter.
When you parade me around the room, at some godforsaken society banquet, circulating amongst the rest of your upper-middle-class snob friends I feel like I'm some sort of trophy. A reminder to you of all the great things you have done in your life, not for yourself, but for other people.
I'm a diversion from all the times you, the great John Carter, have screwed up. You think you can fix me, fix me like you fix the rest of your charity cases, with a wad of cash and a grinning photo in the paper. That's what I am to you, a charity case. A charity case you call your girlfriend. A charity case that you fuck.
When you touch me, when your fingers crawl all over my skin, I want to tear them away. It takes all my strength to suppress the aching sensation raging through my body, urging my hands to wrench yours off me. It takes all my power to turn away and hide the grimace contorting my face.
When we lie in your bed, the smell of the thin sprinkling of moisture on your body oozing in through my nostrils, it is all that I can do not to heave. When I feel your arms around me and I lie still, pressed against your chest, I know you think I feel something but I don't. I just clench my eyes shut tight, and wish that I was wrapped in his tender embrace. I can pretend that you are him and not you.
When you ask me what's wrong, I say, "Nothing."
But when you turn and walk away, I whisper, "Everything."