What You Can't Have
By Cherry Blossom
*Los Angeles, California
Her eyes flutter open. She's in a different place than she usually is in the morning. She tries sits up, eyes trying to adjust. Where is she? She falls back into her previous position, moving her hand to the side as if to tip up the clock that sits next to her bed at home to see what time it is. Instead, she hits something big, breathing…and god, warm.
Suddenly, her heart does a flip flop as she bolts up in bed. She squeezes her eyes shut and finally wills herself to look at the pulsing body lying next to her, popping one eyelid open slowly, ever so slowly... She hopes it's the person that she wants it to be.
It's not.
She looks down at herself quickly, sweeping her glance at her bare body. Her eyes widen and her hand flies to her mouth as she realizes she has no clothes on. Frantically she scans the room, and spots her clothes lying recklessly all over the floor. She shoves aside the heavy blanket covering her legs and scrambles to gather her crumpled belongings. Soon she begins to pull them on as fast as she can. She needs to get out of there.
"Don't go…."
She catches her breath and stops moving, as the male that was next to her speaks. Is he awake? She prays he isn't….and after a few more tense seconds she confirms that the words uttered from his mouth are simply sleep talk.
She grabs her purse, that she finds flung near the entrance of the room. She's about to leave when she casts one last glance at the man spent the night with. She can't bear to think about it anymore. She starts to walk faster, her pace quickening. Finally she pulls open the door and closes it soundlessly behind her, and suddenly she's running. Running out of the place. Running away from the world.
She's in her car. She fumbles for her keys and backs out of the driveway as fast as she can. She doesn't want to be seen, obviously. She's speeding. To fuck with the speed limit, she decides, pushing the gas pedal even harder. "It's five in the morning," she says to her self after looking at the car's clock, "It's five o clock in the fucking morning."
Where is she? She's been driving aimlessly, she realizes. She's at the pier. And suddenly she's running to the pier, and she's grasping the railing tightly in her cold hands as tears drop down on her face. She sobs to herself as the sun begins to rise, thinking, "Oh God, what have I done? What have I done?"