Skin of a Sinner

by Avina St. Graves

"I hate and I love. Why do I do this, perhaps you ask. I know not, but I feel it happening and I am tortured." - Catullus

To all the self-proclaimed good girls who want to be chased through the forest, then fucked by a masked man.

“You’re crazy. You’re fucking crazy.” “I prefer the term ‘artist,’” he quips.

“You fucked with my girl.” Roman chuckles darkly, glancing at me before saying, “And you should never fuck with my girl.”

The Roman I knew would burn the entire city down before letting someone who hurt me walk free. But three years will change someone.

“Sarai la mia morte.” You’re going to be the death of me.

We never used to be able to high-five without one or both of us flinching, so when she hugged me for the very first time two years ago on my birthday, it was like I saw the light. Then, when she hugged me last year, I’m pretty sure I understood why people find religion.

“Tell me you want me.” “Go to Hell.” His laugh is pure mirth and carnal sin. “You’ll be right there with me. You’re my favorite sin.”

“No amount of blood spilled will ever be too much for you.” “When will it end?” He smirks. “When I’m in a grave, and even then, Hell won’t keep me from you.”

“Don’t worry. If you break, I’ll put you back together. If you run, I’m running right behind you. If you burn, I’ll burn with you.”

Mickey and Roman are one and the same, but Mickey is just for her. It’s the name that has my heart ratcheting because it means I’m her home. She feels safe with me and never wants to lose me, just like her Mickey Mouse. I could die happy knowing she calls me that.

“You will never be alone again. I swear on my life. Wherever you go, I’ll be right there. We’ll always find each other. I’m not going anywhere. It’s a promise. We’re forever, Princess, and nothing will ever come between us. Do you understand?” She sniffles. “Yes.” “Say it.” “We’re forever.” “Swear it.” “I promise I’ll never leave you again.” I grin. “Why?” She narrows her eyes, but wipes her tears away as she raises her chin. But all I can see is the string bracelets fastened to her wrist. Not one. Two. “Because you’re a crazy asshole, but I love you for it.”

“The next time something happens, you call me. Even if it’s just to ask which shirt you should wear or if you're out of snacks. I don’t give a shit if I’m working, sleeping, or half-dead; you grab that phone, and you call me. I’ll pick up whatever you need, even if I’m six feet under, Bella. There isn’t a god in existence that could stop me from getting to you. So you pick up that phone and call me before you even think about calling the cops. Got it?”

“You’d get on your knees for me if I asked. Does that make me your god, Princess?”

My religion starts with “Isa” and ends with “Bella,” and I’d worship at her altar every night. Blessed be the meal I’m about to eat and all that.

I may make art, but she is art made flesh. Every stroke, every color. Masterpiece doesn’t come close to describing her.

I’m going to make you come on me every day for the rest of your life. But before then, you’re going to say my fucking name.

“Hit me, scream at me, fucking shoot me if it makes you feel better—at least I know that feeling. But you don’t keep your feelings in, and you sure as fuck don’t lie to me. Got it?”

“You never forgot about me,” I whisper. “I could never leave you. There is no me without you.”

We all have demons. He happens to be mine.

That’s life with Mickey: easy. He gets into the deep end and always finds a way out. But there’s one thing I almost forgot; he’s always kept me afloat.

“How many times do I need to tell you that you’re the only one for me?”

Beg me to fuck you until the only name you remember is mine.”

Realization unfolds behind her brown eyes. Everything she’s ever liked is marked on my skin for the rest of my life: her favorite animals, the trips we’ve done, things that matter to her.

“No, bella. He’s gonna kill Copper while wearing your li’l bracelet.”

“What? You think I wouldn’t have the energy to make you scream after I almost kill someone? Baby, that was an appetizer. You’re my whole meal.”

Perfect muscle formed in the darkest pits of hell, with eyes that could rival a siren’s luring stare.

“She’s mine. Touch her, and I’ll show you how artistic I can get with a knife.”

“That’s fine, Princess. You can spend your life searching for a reason to hate me, but the truth is, you hate that you can’t live without me. And you know what? I would rather die knowing you wish I were dead than for you to feel nothing toward me at all.”

“Maybe I haven’t made this clear: You have never been just a phase to me; you’ve always been the whole picture. Without you, I am incomplete.”

The easiest thing I’ve ever done is love her. If I could do it all again, I would do it the exact same way. I would pick her. Every time.