Monica sat back on the couch, her feet pulled up under her and her
head resting on her knees, watching steam float up from the second cup of
coffee that John hd made for her. This one was how she liked it, and not
the straght black that she had had before to releive her from the beer. She
couldn't bring herself to drink it, however. She wanted nothing more than
to simply die in this little curled up position for the rest of her life.
John sat down beside her with a cup of coffee for himself, and noticed her
blank stare into space.
"Hey, You ok?" He asked her, very simply.
She managed not to cry again, but only barely, tears framed her eyes, "Yeah, John, thank you"
"BS, Monica, i've seen you break out in sobs three times in the past two days. You don't cry like that, Monica. I've never seen you cry like that. You never have before."
"John, you don't know me as well as you think." She said with a sigh.
"Well then tell me Monica. I want to know."
She shook her head, keeping it down to keep the tears partially hidden from veiw, "No you don't, John. Hell, I wish I didn't know me as well as I do." She was hurting and she wanted to climb into John's lap and feel his arms around her, protecting her, but she was too smart for that. As soon as she did that he would think that she was his, and he would hurt her, then leave her, with nothing but memories and scars. It was nonfailing when it came to her love life. They were always nice, sweet, there for her. They were her friends. Then, something happened and they were there, catching her as she fell, holding her. And then the next day, or week, or maybe even months later, it would start.
She knew that she was crying again, and she felt John shift slightly on the couch. She wanted to stop, wanted for everything to be light and happy again, or as happy as it could be. But she couldn't. She didn't want to. It felt good to cry. Not like everything would be better, but it released her for a few moments. She felt John shift again, then felt heavy, muscular arms surround her. She was surprised at first, shocked. Then she succombed to the feeling of saftey that came with his arms around her. She unfurled herself from her little ball, rested her head on John's shoulder, and cried.
Monica woke up slowly as she felt the sunrise through the window. her body was stiff from falling asleep on her couch. She must've fallen asleep and then John must've covered---.
John. She had fallen. She didn't fight him. He was in her life now. Whether she wanted him to be or not. Life was already hard enough without an owner. Now she was his. His property. She was too pissed at herself to do anything.
"Hey, You ok?" He asked her, very simply.
She managed not to cry again, but only barely, tears framed her eyes, "Yeah, John, thank you"
"BS, Monica, i've seen you break out in sobs three times in the past two days. You don't cry like that, Monica. I've never seen you cry like that. You never have before."
"John, you don't know me as well as you think." She said with a sigh.
"Well then tell me Monica. I want to know."
She shook her head, keeping it down to keep the tears partially hidden from veiw, "No you don't, John. Hell, I wish I didn't know me as well as I do." She was hurting and she wanted to climb into John's lap and feel his arms around her, protecting her, but she was too smart for that. As soon as she did that he would think that she was his, and he would hurt her, then leave her, with nothing but memories and scars. It was nonfailing when it came to her love life. They were always nice, sweet, there for her. They were her friends. Then, something happened and they were there, catching her as she fell, holding her. And then the next day, or week, or maybe even months later, it would start.
She knew that she was crying again, and she felt John shift slightly on the couch. She wanted to stop, wanted for everything to be light and happy again, or as happy as it could be. But she couldn't. She didn't want to. It felt good to cry. Not like everything would be better, but it released her for a few moments. She felt John shift again, then felt heavy, muscular arms surround her. She was surprised at first, shocked. Then she succombed to the feeling of saftey that came with his arms around her. She unfurled herself from her little ball, rested her head on John's shoulder, and cried.
Monica woke up slowly as she felt the sunrise through the window. her body was stiff from falling asleep on her couch. She must've fallen asleep and then John must've covered---.
John. She had fallen. She didn't fight him. He was in her life now. Whether she wanted him to be or not. Life was already hard enough without an owner. Now she was his. His property. She was too pissed at herself to do anything.