You all are awesome :) I'm so glad you reviewed. All my short stories are
only one chapter, but because of your reviews and the ideas I have in my
twisted little brain, I thought it might be worth continuing this story. I
hope you like it and will keep reviewing!
Angelina
+++++++++++
My room is one large shadow, draped over me like a monster and making it hard to breathe. Deep inside, I know it's not the darkness doing this to me as I stare at the ceiling, lying on my back on the bed. It's so quiet; I can almost imagine I have been swallowed up like I previously wanted to. No one is around and I haven't opened my mouth to say a single word since supper. It feels so nice not to be needed for once, and I can spend time on my own.
There's a knock at my door that jolts me out of what could have been a pleasant daydream and I sit up, wondering who could still be awake in the household. It's well past midnight and the boys are usually the kind to retire early and rise before the sun in case they are needed for an emergency. I clear my throat, noticing that my mouth feels like the Mojave Desert and my tongue like sandpaper. "Come in," I call quietly, not wishing to disturb my father who sleeps in the next room.
My door slides open soundlessly, lifting into the roof. In the doorway, showered in the faint light from the moon slanting through the window behind him, is Virgil.
For a moment, I'm afraid I've stopped breathing. I regain my equanimity as best I can and settle back against the pillows, thankful that the room is shady and his visibility is restricted.
He presses the button and the door slips down from it's hiding place. He looks around, waiting for his eyes to adjust to the dimness. Once he can make out the sections of my room, he glances at the spot I had occupied but I'm no longer there.
He turns and I'm beside him, feeling lost and vulnerable. I wonder why he's here, as I had not asked him to come. He asks if I'm feeling all right, having noticed I'd been so out of it since the boat ride that afternoon. I nod without a sound, though the question didn't even register itself. He peers at me worriedly and I can tell he's curious as to the change in my behavior.
I can't tell him why I'm so out of it. No, I can never tell him. No one can ever know. But just because I can't form the words in my mind doesn't mean I can't carry out actions that will portray my feelings.
Before I can talk sense into myself, I back him against the wall and look up, reading the confusion present on his face. He doesn't know what I'm going to do, and to be honest, neither do I. It's too late to back out of it now as I close the space between us and tilt my head up, locating his mouth for a timid kiss.
I can feel him trying to will his body to protest, but it won't listen. He puts his arms around me and proceeds with the kiss as I reach up and run my fingers through his hair like I've wanted to for so long. I'm quivering so terribly that I'm sure my legs will give out at any time and I don't notice the tears running down my cheeks.
He pushes me back gently, holding me against him so I don't have to rely on my weak knees to keep me up. "Why are you crying?" Virgil whispers near my neck.
"I. . .I don't know," I confess. I try to wipe the tears away but more take their place. "This is so wrong. Alan. . .what about Alan?"
"What he doesn't know won't hurt him."
This is a side of him I've never seen, but it sends a thrill through me I've never felt. He's returning my hidden feelings, ones I've buried for long enough. I shake my head, feeling guilt form a knot in my stomach, and rest it against his shoulder. My body racks with soft sobs as I cry into the green material of his sweater.
He hugs me tightly, letting me thoroughly soak the fabric. It's the embrace of someone who understands, someone who won't push for details but will listen when I want to speak, not the nervous hold of a person who doesn't know what to say or do. I feel so terrible about what I've done, but at the same time, can't quell the desire to kiss him again. I sigh, trying to stop the flow of tears before I lift my head.
Finding my lips once more, he kisses me harder and my remaining strength drains before I can grasp it. I collapse in his arms, hating myself for enjoying what he's doing to me. I can't prevent the tears any more, but he nuzzles my hair patiently until I can catch my breath. What would Alan do if he knew? Would he loathe me as much as I do at this moment? I don't even want to think those culpable thoughts, as I know they'll just make me sick with censure.
"We can't do this," I moan finally, barely audible to my own ears. I have to banish these feelings before they consume me.
He doesn't answer but elevates my head soothingly to kiss me again. I can't fight it and find myself kissing back, everything I'm feeling disappearing and being replaced by passion and something I can only define as love. I cling to him closely, not wanting to let go.
After a few desperate minutes, I force myself to stop responding to his kiss. I'm tired and weary, my emotions in turmoil and battling it out inside me. I don't have the strength to keep this fervor going and I don't want him to think I've reconsidered. The kiss ceases and he presses his lips to my forehead for a second before pushing the button to open my door. He's read my mind and recognizes what I'm going through, both mentally and physically. I watch as he silently disappears, the door closing behind him and leaving me alone in the dark again.
Angelina
+++++++++++
My room is one large shadow, draped over me like a monster and making it hard to breathe. Deep inside, I know it's not the darkness doing this to me as I stare at the ceiling, lying on my back on the bed. It's so quiet; I can almost imagine I have been swallowed up like I previously wanted to. No one is around and I haven't opened my mouth to say a single word since supper. It feels so nice not to be needed for once, and I can spend time on my own.
There's a knock at my door that jolts me out of what could have been a pleasant daydream and I sit up, wondering who could still be awake in the household. It's well past midnight and the boys are usually the kind to retire early and rise before the sun in case they are needed for an emergency. I clear my throat, noticing that my mouth feels like the Mojave Desert and my tongue like sandpaper. "Come in," I call quietly, not wishing to disturb my father who sleeps in the next room.
My door slides open soundlessly, lifting into the roof. In the doorway, showered in the faint light from the moon slanting through the window behind him, is Virgil.
For a moment, I'm afraid I've stopped breathing. I regain my equanimity as best I can and settle back against the pillows, thankful that the room is shady and his visibility is restricted.
He presses the button and the door slips down from it's hiding place. He looks around, waiting for his eyes to adjust to the dimness. Once he can make out the sections of my room, he glances at the spot I had occupied but I'm no longer there.
He turns and I'm beside him, feeling lost and vulnerable. I wonder why he's here, as I had not asked him to come. He asks if I'm feeling all right, having noticed I'd been so out of it since the boat ride that afternoon. I nod without a sound, though the question didn't even register itself. He peers at me worriedly and I can tell he's curious as to the change in my behavior.
I can't tell him why I'm so out of it. No, I can never tell him. No one can ever know. But just because I can't form the words in my mind doesn't mean I can't carry out actions that will portray my feelings.
Before I can talk sense into myself, I back him against the wall and look up, reading the confusion present on his face. He doesn't know what I'm going to do, and to be honest, neither do I. It's too late to back out of it now as I close the space between us and tilt my head up, locating his mouth for a timid kiss.
I can feel him trying to will his body to protest, but it won't listen. He puts his arms around me and proceeds with the kiss as I reach up and run my fingers through his hair like I've wanted to for so long. I'm quivering so terribly that I'm sure my legs will give out at any time and I don't notice the tears running down my cheeks.
He pushes me back gently, holding me against him so I don't have to rely on my weak knees to keep me up. "Why are you crying?" Virgil whispers near my neck.
"I. . .I don't know," I confess. I try to wipe the tears away but more take their place. "This is so wrong. Alan. . .what about Alan?"
"What he doesn't know won't hurt him."
This is a side of him I've never seen, but it sends a thrill through me I've never felt. He's returning my hidden feelings, ones I've buried for long enough. I shake my head, feeling guilt form a knot in my stomach, and rest it against his shoulder. My body racks with soft sobs as I cry into the green material of his sweater.
He hugs me tightly, letting me thoroughly soak the fabric. It's the embrace of someone who understands, someone who won't push for details but will listen when I want to speak, not the nervous hold of a person who doesn't know what to say or do. I feel so terrible about what I've done, but at the same time, can't quell the desire to kiss him again. I sigh, trying to stop the flow of tears before I lift my head.
Finding my lips once more, he kisses me harder and my remaining strength drains before I can grasp it. I collapse in his arms, hating myself for enjoying what he's doing to me. I can't prevent the tears any more, but he nuzzles my hair patiently until I can catch my breath. What would Alan do if he knew? Would he loathe me as much as I do at this moment? I don't even want to think those culpable thoughts, as I know they'll just make me sick with censure.
"We can't do this," I moan finally, barely audible to my own ears. I have to banish these feelings before they consume me.
He doesn't answer but elevates my head soothingly to kiss me again. I can't fight it and find myself kissing back, everything I'm feeling disappearing and being replaced by passion and something I can only define as love. I cling to him closely, not wanting to let go.
After a few desperate minutes, I force myself to stop responding to his kiss. I'm tired and weary, my emotions in turmoil and battling it out inside me. I don't have the strength to keep this fervor going and I don't want him to think I've reconsidered. The kiss ceases and he presses his lips to my forehead for a second before pushing the button to open my door. He's read my mind and recognizes what I'm going through, both mentally and physically. I watch as he silently disappears, the door closing behind him and leaving me alone in the dark again.