Plot: Ernst's feelings of how Hanschen has treated him after their 'encounter'.
(4) Wounded
Is that all he could promise me of this: to use me? Let some of his sexual frustration out on me?
The manipulative creep!
He took advantage of me at a point at which my vulnerability took the better of my judgment.
His sweet, promising words of a beautiful future: if beautiful means being alone with the suffocating denial of emotions then what he said might be true.
A permanent scar is held upon my lips from when he made his "impression", forever reminding me of my regrets.
Promises of love, devotion and loyalty were held inside that connection then shattered later when he decided that he would act like he knew nothing of our moment, rather, HIS moment.
I thought of him as an angel; the gorgeous blond who would rescue me from my insecurities and questioning. But of course not, this was not my fairy tale; it was his.
I assume it was unproductive of me to think that I was the answer to his prayers. He saw me of nothing but another pawn in his exploration of sexuality. At least he found his results.
He simply left me bleeding, unwilling to attend to the wound he had slashed across my chest. The feeling of betrayal seeping out in a warm, iron scented trail every step he took away. No antiseptic could lessen the pain.
The names he accused me of days later: "sinner", "freak", "faggot". With every one, he dripped a bit of salt into my already stinging gash. Yet because of my meek nature, I had no objection so I lowered my gaze furthered to the ground in shame and self -loathing.
He taught me to love and hate.
Love him.
Hate myself for loving him.
And with that, I finish the wound he began with a final swipe: a cold blade against skin.
End story.
Please R&R!