Does It Hurt?

by H.D. Carlton

I've never been gladder that my first tattoo was by a man at a bus stop.

Lying was never the worst of my sins, just the first of them.

Killing him wasn’t the worst of my sins, just the bloodiest. Even now, as I sit here in this decrepit lighthouse with a man who doesn’t want to hurt me any less than Kevin did, I don’t regret that decision to take his life. Even if that decision ultimately led me here. What I do regret is all the people that I’ve hurt on the way.

When I left my old house, stained with Kevin’s blood, I only wore socks on my feet. But what hurts is that I slipped them into other people’s shoes and carried my sins into lives that had no place being there. That… that I do regret. I’ve taken enough lives. But tonight will be the last. And for the first time in my life, I feel at peace with that. Sawyer Bennett

“Why are you so nervous to enter our home? Shouldn’t it be me?”

Because for some godforsaken reason, Enzo decided I was worth loving. I think he hit his head too hard when we shipwrecked and lost his mind, yet I’m too selfish to let him go. We both lost pieces of ourselves that day. But as time passed while stuck in that lighthouse, we slowly merged our remaining scattered pieces until we made more sense together than we did apart.

“If I died right here and now,” I start, the last word bleeding into a groan. “I’d actually be upset. You should be proud of yourself. You made me want to live.”

“I suppose at first it was because I wanted to be like one. They are some of the fiercest creatures in the ocean—at least that we know of. And growing up, I always felt helpless. Like someone else was in the driver’s seat, and I had no control over where I was going. They embodied power and freedom. It was everything I strived for. “As I grew older, it evolved from fascination to near obsession. I can’t explain what exactly it is, but they’ve always just made me happy. The ocean makes me happy.”

There are some growing pains when you’ve never been in love before. I’ve lived my life selfishly for the past six years and have run from everything that posed a threat to my survival. It’s almost poetic that getting trapped with someone was the catalyst to my redemption.

“All it takes is the tip, bella.”

It’s honestly pathetic how attractive he is. The dude could barter world peace or some shit, I swear.

The fucker uses his mouth like it’s a red button to a nuclear bomb. And every time he presses it against mine, it lets off the explosive inside me.

I was sad, broken, and barely surviving. And now, I’m still a little broken, but it doesn’t feel so bad to be alive anymore. And while I’ll always have the reminders of what happened to me etched into the inside of my brain, at least I’ll be able to look forward now, instead of looking back.

mia piccola bugiarda,”