Author's Notes:: Sorry quick update. I'm tired. It's been a long, complicated, sick day... Please Review!!! Thanks to everyone who has so far.... :o)
I wish I knew what the hell was going on, but I don't. I'm in a world I thought I had lost, and everything disappeared. It's just him. I should be mad at him. I should push him away once and for all, but I know that is impossible to do. I can't stop kissing him, much less push him through the door. My heart is pounding, pulse racing, but I can't get enough of him. Every second longer we are together is how much more pain we are causing to each other. I would give all the pain in the world for one night with him. The way it used to be, before we fell apart, before he left, before we stopped talking. I would give anything to have all that back. Subconsciously I know it will never go back. But I can still dream, and that dream is becoming a fantasy. His hands run over my body, he knows where I am most vulnerable. Instead of moving towards the door, we are moving back towards the bedroom. I'm pulling him with me. I don't want this. I want him to suffer the way I did. I want him to feel the pain I felt. But right now he's here, in the flesh. There is nothing more that I want. Even if it just means mentally having to prove to myself that I'm nothing but a good fuck. And he wants me for nothing more. I need him.
I haven't opened my eyes. I'm afraid to, as if this is all a dream, or something I am imagining. I want to feel him inside me instead. Then I'll know. Then I won't be afraid to open my eyes. His hands keep tracing over my body, he knows he has complete control over me. I shouldn't let him. I should make him leave. He didn't want me. He wanted his whore. I'm absolutely nothing to him. I'm a worthless piece of shit to him. He has perfection at home. He wants to get laid, they are probably fighting. I don't want to be with him. I shouldn't want this so badly. This is so wrong. It feels right. It feels like we were meant to be together. His hands start to slowly inch my shirt off. No. I"m not going to do this to myself. Screw him, I don't care what explanation he can give me. I can't do this to myself. This is part of the past I've been trying to let go. I push him, forcing the emotion that I felt for him into physical strength. He stumbles a bit. I lick my lips, holding on to his flavor for a second before running the sleeve of my shirt over them. He looks at me questioningly, debating what to do. He starts to move closer, I move back.
" I think you should leave."
He looks at me, as if I'm speaking a foreign language. Did he forget English in Africa? Or had his whore fucked his brains out?
"Leave."
He gives me a dejected look, still not comprehending what I'm telling him to do.
"Abby..."
He better not even try to Abby his way out of this one. It's not fair to me, I'm not the one that showed up at his door begging to get laid. He's not getting anything out of me. He deserves to be tortured.
"I don't want to see you. Get out of my life."
I'm spitting out words at him with such a crude, violent tone, they could probably breaks walls had I put some real mass behind them.
"Run away like you always do."
I'm not the one that ran away, I"m the one that ran after him. I had asked him to stay. We could have somehow talked, maybe tied up loose ends. He's the one that ran off, why should I be blamed for his ignorance. I'm not bitter at all. What kind of man breaks up with someone in a letter. That is for preteens and puppy love. I give him a forced smile.
"I"m not the one that ran this time. You did."
He knows I'm saying this with ease because it's the truth. I had asked him to stay. He left, he lost his chance, gave me a sure sign that we should move on. We worked better unfettered. I mean I feel more fettered to him than I ever did, but we're not together. I'm with someone that I genuinely care for. Oh my god. Zach. I had forgotten. What if he were to have come home. I would have killed two birds with one stone. He keeps on staring at me, as if he would be able to read my mind and gain access to how much hate I have for him right now.
"What about your whore and son? You willing to risk everything for a lost cause? It's over. It started to fall apart from the beginning."
He looks at the closed door then back at me. What does he want from me? I'm not in love with him. I don't give a damn about who he's with or what he does. He has, as far as I know, disappeared from my life. And it's a good thing. I'm happy he did.
"You know that's a lie."
I roll my eyes at him. My nails are digging into my hip where I placed my hand. I'm tired, I don't want to deal with this tonight. This is the last thing I need.
"A lie you fabricated for yourself. Now go."
I gives me one last look, and turns around. He's trudging towards the door. The reason he came probably lost, and everything that had planned failed. Serves him right. I'm not someone he can just run to for a no-strings-attached fuck. He doesn't have that luxury. I don't want him. He never wanted to talk before, and now suddenly he's devoted himself entirely to preaching to me about how I ran away. I stopped running away from the truth. I stopped giving myself excuses for why my life was on hold. I started to live it. And there is nothing that is going to pull me back into that endless vortex, especially Carter.
I watch him exit through the door, slamming it behind me. As if he was leaving me in a fight or something. We have no more fights left. All it is is hard feelings towards one another that I'm going to slowly but surely work though. Something he will probably ignore. He never tries, expects things will be handed to him on a silver platter. The real world isn't like that, he needs to step out of the rich life. I move back, leaning against the wall. I feel my body begin to sink to the floor. I can't deal with all this tonight. I pull my knees up to my chest, my head finding its favorite position against them. I always sit like this, it's my comfort spot. I can feel the sting of salty tears wanting to force themselves out, but I'm not going to cry. I refuse to cry over him. He's not worth the tears I did cry. He's not worth the time or the torture.
I don't know how long I'll sit here. I mean it could to be centuries. Or probably only minutes. I hear the door open again, slowly, cautiously. I don't have to look up to know its Zach. He throws his bag and coat on the chair by the door, he's over by my side in seconds. Its nice to be cared for at times. But right now I feel so dirty and guilty. This man deserves so much better than me. I can't believe I would have even thought of cheating on him. Who knows how far we would have gone. He had no intention of stopping. I lean into him, my tears finally beginning to soak through his crisp white shirt. Not tears over the trash I just threw out. But over the hurt and pain I could have caused the man next to me. He gives me a kiss on the cheek, wiping away the tears. I don't know if I'll ever tell him what happened. I don't think I'll ever admit to myself that it almost happened. That I almost gave in. Why am I a walking disaster? I always manage to inflict pain on the people I care about most, not that I specifically try. It just happens. I still haven't managed to get that black cloud that seems to follow me everywhere to leave. I can't cut that tail of misery that is always behind me. I'm a miserable wretched creature that doesn't deserve the love or compassion of anyone. I think I've come to the root of the problem, though. It's Carter. He's the one that manages to make me feel inferior to him, like I'm some sort of disappointment. I am a disappointment. I know I am. I start to stand up, heading towards the couch. Sleep isn't going to be very kind to me tonight.
I wish I knew what the hell was going on, but I don't. I'm in a world I thought I had lost, and everything disappeared. It's just him. I should be mad at him. I should push him away once and for all, but I know that is impossible to do. I can't stop kissing him, much less push him through the door. My heart is pounding, pulse racing, but I can't get enough of him. Every second longer we are together is how much more pain we are causing to each other. I would give all the pain in the world for one night with him. The way it used to be, before we fell apart, before he left, before we stopped talking. I would give anything to have all that back. Subconsciously I know it will never go back. But I can still dream, and that dream is becoming a fantasy. His hands run over my body, he knows where I am most vulnerable. Instead of moving towards the door, we are moving back towards the bedroom. I'm pulling him with me. I don't want this. I want him to suffer the way I did. I want him to feel the pain I felt. But right now he's here, in the flesh. There is nothing more that I want. Even if it just means mentally having to prove to myself that I'm nothing but a good fuck. And he wants me for nothing more. I need him.
I haven't opened my eyes. I'm afraid to, as if this is all a dream, or something I am imagining. I want to feel him inside me instead. Then I'll know. Then I won't be afraid to open my eyes. His hands keep tracing over my body, he knows he has complete control over me. I shouldn't let him. I should make him leave. He didn't want me. He wanted his whore. I'm absolutely nothing to him. I'm a worthless piece of shit to him. He has perfection at home. He wants to get laid, they are probably fighting. I don't want to be with him. I shouldn't want this so badly. This is so wrong. It feels right. It feels like we were meant to be together. His hands start to slowly inch my shirt off. No. I"m not going to do this to myself. Screw him, I don't care what explanation he can give me. I can't do this to myself. This is part of the past I've been trying to let go. I push him, forcing the emotion that I felt for him into physical strength. He stumbles a bit. I lick my lips, holding on to his flavor for a second before running the sleeve of my shirt over them. He looks at me questioningly, debating what to do. He starts to move closer, I move back.
" I think you should leave."
He looks at me, as if I'm speaking a foreign language. Did he forget English in Africa? Or had his whore fucked his brains out?
"Leave."
He gives me a dejected look, still not comprehending what I'm telling him to do.
"Abby..."
He better not even try to Abby his way out of this one. It's not fair to me, I'm not the one that showed up at his door begging to get laid. He's not getting anything out of me. He deserves to be tortured.
"I don't want to see you. Get out of my life."
I'm spitting out words at him with such a crude, violent tone, they could probably breaks walls had I put some real mass behind them.
"Run away like you always do."
I'm not the one that ran away, I"m the one that ran after him. I had asked him to stay. We could have somehow talked, maybe tied up loose ends. He's the one that ran off, why should I be blamed for his ignorance. I'm not bitter at all. What kind of man breaks up with someone in a letter. That is for preteens and puppy love. I give him a forced smile.
"I"m not the one that ran this time. You did."
He knows I'm saying this with ease because it's the truth. I had asked him to stay. He left, he lost his chance, gave me a sure sign that we should move on. We worked better unfettered. I mean I feel more fettered to him than I ever did, but we're not together. I'm with someone that I genuinely care for. Oh my god. Zach. I had forgotten. What if he were to have come home. I would have killed two birds with one stone. He keeps on staring at me, as if he would be able to read my mind and gain access to how much hate I have for him right now.
"What about your whore and son? You willing to risk everything for a lost cause? It's over. It started to fall apart from the beginning."
He looks at the closed door then back at me. What does he want from me? I'm not in love with him. I don't give a damn about who he's with or what he does. He has, as far as I know, disappeared from my life. And it's a good thing. I'm happy he did.
"You know that's a lie."
I roll my eyes at him. My nails are digging into my hip where I placed my hand. I'm tired, I don't want to deal with this tonight. This is the last thing I need.
"A lie you fabricated for yourself. Now go."
I gives me one last look, and turns around. He's trudging towards the door. The reason he came probably lost, and everything that had planned failed. Serves him right. I'm not someone he can just run to for a no-strings-attached fuck. He doesn't have that luxury. I don't want him. He never wanted to talk before, and now suddenly he's devoted himself entirely to preaching to me about how I ran away. I stopped running away from the truth. I stopped giving myself excuses for why my life was on hold. I started to live it. And there is nothing that is going to pull me back into that endless vortex, especially Carter.
I watch him exit through the door, slamming it behind me. As if he was leaving me in a fight or something. We have no more fights left. All it is is hard feelings towards one another that I'm going to slowly but surely work though. Something he will probably ignore. He never tries, expects things will be handed to him on a silver platter. The real world isn't like that, he needs to step out of the rich life. I move back, leaning against the wall. I feel my body begin to sink to the floor. I can't deal with all this tonight. I pull my knees up to my chest, my head finding its favorite position against them. I always sit like this, it's my comfort spot. I can feel the sting of salty tears wanting to force themselves out, but I'm not going to cry. I refuse to cry over him. He's not worth the tears I did cry. He's not worth the time or the torture.
I don't know how long I'll sit here. I mean it could to be centuries. Or probably only minutes. I hear the door open again, slowly, cautiously. I don't have to look up to know its Zach. He throws his bag and coat on the chair by the door, he's over by my side in seconds. Its nice to be cared for at times. But right now I feel so dirty and guilty. This man deserves so much better than me. I can't believe I would have even thought of cheating on him. Who knows how far we would have gone. He had no intention of stopping. I lean into him, my tears finally beginning to soak through his crisp white shirt. Not tears over the trash I just threw out. But over the hurt and pain I could have caused the man next to me. He gives me a kiss on the cheek, wiping away the tears. I don't know if I'll ever tell him what happened. I don't think I'll ever admit to myself that it almost happened. That I almost gave in. Why am I a walking disaster? I always manage to inflict pain on the people I care about most, not that I specifically try. It just happens. I still haven't managed to get that black cloud that seems to follow me everywhere to leave. I can't cut that tail of misery that is always behind me. I'm a miserable wretched creature that doesn't deserve the love or compassion of anyone. I think I've come to the root of the problem, though. It's Carter. He's the one that manages to make me feel inferior to him, like I'm some sort of disappointment. I am a disappointment. I know I am. I start to stand up, heading towards the couch. Sleep isn't going to be very kind to me tonight.