Come Out, Come Out (Haunted Hearts)

by Alexia Onyx

I always found the notion of death romantic; I never could have predicted how right I would be.

But what makes her exactly what I need is the heavy melancholy that clings to her. Its tentacles reach for me, and I let them wind their way around my limbs and sink their tips into my skin.

want to drink her sorrow until I’m wasted off it; I want to consume her every worry and delight in the sourness of it; I want to dig my way into her head and put down roots she can’t ever pull out.

My heart belongs to a living ghost who has one foot on the other side of the veil at all times and is slowly creeping closer. My little wraith.

I often wondered if I was the one haunting her or if it was the other way around.

All the days aren’t like that, though. Sometimes, she wakes up and curses the fluttering of her lids, the air that fills her lungs, and the pulse of her regretfully pumping heart.

Those days seem to go on forever as I fixate on the rise and fall of her chest, aching with the need to dry her tears and pull her closer until she’s absorbed into my own body and I can protect her from everything that has and will ever hurt her.

Standing stark against the steam, she’s a soon-to-be fallen angel basking amongst the clouds. Each day, I’m more determined to save her from the fall.

“Then I get to pick the next game. It’s my favorite one.” A wicked gleam sparks in his eyes, but it only amplifies my need. “But don’t worry, I’m going to fuck your needy little pussy first.”

“Self-preservation is over-rated. Don’t you agree?” I nod and thrust my hips up making my intentions clear. “Prove it.” “With pleasure.” He groans as he slams into me.

“Look at me,” he thrusts deeply into me to punctuate the command, “I want you to see me.”

“Do you like that? When I decide how much you can breathe?” He pauses and licks the sensitive space between my neck and chin. “Tell me.” His touch lightens ever so slightly.

“100, 99, 98 . . .” I pause my counting, “I would run and hide if I were you.”

“Ready or not, here I come.”

“You can run, but I’m going to get what I came here for.”

“Do as I say, and you won’t get hurt. Put your palms on the stairs two steps down, now.”

“What are you doing?” Fear and excitement raise the tone of her voice. “Fucking you within an inch of your life,”

My girl craves the call of death. My little wraith.

She wants to risk her life. Wants to be taunted on the edge. She wants me to scare her, to hurt her, more than she does herself. I can set her free.

Nobody wants to say it out loud, but you’re supposed to suffer alone. Suffering isn’t pretty, it isn’t sweet, and it isn’t the watered-down sugary shit people drink up by the gallon every damn day. No, thank you. I’ll take my suffering straight up.

Depression is greedy and hard to escape like quicksand and I gave up hope a long time ago. I’m just sinking slowly, enjoying the view with my head just a few inches above water.

And if—no, when— I touch her next time, I’ll leave my mark, so she can never doubt how much I want her again. She’ll learn who she belongs to.

If she wants to live like a wraith, I’ll become her grim reaper. I’ll give her a taste of death until she can no longer stomach the idea. Until she was afraid of it. Until she wanted to live.

She needs a reprieve from the endless energy it takes to make herself pay for her mere existence and perceived failures.

She needs to exorcise the deep ache caused by her mere existence. I can do that for her, I want to take on that burden. I’m ready to take ownership of that chaos.

Unlike a deer in a meadow, I’m willing prey. God, do I want him to catch me and rearrange my insides.

“Are you going to hurt me?” My voice drips with lust instead of apprehension. “I’ll give you exactly what you need, don’t worry, love.”

“Very good, but you’ll have to work for it. You ruined my game. You were supposed to make it hard for me to find you.”

“What kind of punishment does my little wraith deserve for her poor choice of hiding spot?”

“Did I say ‘ready, set, go’?”

“Mmmm, mmmm, mmmm,” he sighs, “I love that smart-ass mouth, but it’s like you’re eager for me to teach you a lesson.”

“Are you going to beg for me, little wraith?”

“You’re going to have to do better than that. I asked you a question, and I want an answer.” “Please.” My whine echoes around the shower. “Please, please, please.”

beg for it. Fuck, I’ll pray to him if that’s what he wants. I’ll get on my knees, I’ll bruise them, bloody them, I’ll sit here all night if that’s what it takes.

He’s the only who can give me what I need. It’s an insatiable itch that’s been torturing me for months. I need him to scratc...

“Your pussy is already weeping for me.” His voice is pure grit as he forces the words out. “Do you think I can make you cry real tears for me before I give into you?”

“I think you will, and I’m going to drink them all like a man left in the desert because that’s what I am without you, insatiably parched.”

“I know. It feels so good to let me take over and ease those beautiful, sick thoughts in that mind of yours, doesn’t it?”

“Come out, come out, wherever you are.” He rattles the rusty handle. “I wonder what’s behind this door?” A sinister chuckle bellows against the wood. “Are you down there quivering in the dark, little wraith? Mmm, I bet that fear dripping down your thighs tastes delicious”

“Ready or not, here I come.”

For my first meal as a dead man, I couldn’t have asked for better.

“Just like that, baby. I love hearing you choke on my dick.”

“Sit on my cock and don’t move. I’ve waited so long to be inside you, it’s only fair I get to bask in it. Every time you squirm, it’s another minute I make you wait to come.”

swallow those deprived breaths like if I took enough of them they could somehow bring me back to life.

With her full consent, I take her life into my hands, exactly where it belongs.

“Who’s in control, Skye?”

“You are.” “Right, so you only get as much of this cock as I say. You’ll have me fully seated inside you when I’m good and ready, and not a second sooner.”

I’ve spent my entire life telling myself I’m happier alone because the alternative would break me into a million pieces. Accepting that everyone I’ve ever opened up to decided I was too hard to love would break me in a way I could not recover from. Instead, I tell myself I’m happier this way—alone and out of the way.

I’m in love with a woman who wants to die and I’m desperately trying to keep her alive.

“That’s it, just like that. God those lips are so pretty when I’m in between them like this. I can’t decide if I want to fuck or kiss them more.”