Does It Hurt?

by H.D. Carlton

“When have we ever been able to let go of the things that hurt us most?”

It’s a blessing to be old, and every blessing is a little bittersweet.”

Life has a funny way of throwing people into your path when you’re meant to collide. It’s up to you to choose to make it permanent.”

God, he’s mean. Why do I like it?

“You put any money out and I’ll shove it down your throat,”

what am I even fighting for? If I’m not fighting to stay alive for someone else, what's the point in staying alive for myself when I don't even want to be here?

“People don’t actually care about fixing you. They just want to shape your broken pieces until they fit their standards. Smooth ’em out, make ’em less sharp, so they don’t cut so deep when they collect ’em. But you ain’t any less broken.”

Ecco la mia piccola ladra.

“I’ll keep you safe,” I assure her. And it’s the truth. I will keep her safe from the sharks. Just not from me.

He stares down at me, silent, but I feel his disappointment anyway. And like a typical adult who grew up deprived of praise and attention from their parents, I'm now seeking those things from a man.

she’s mine to hurt just as much as she’s mine to protect.

Whoever said that breathing exercises help manage anger is a fucking con artist. I've tried a million of them since we've been out here, and I still want to choke her. Biggest problem with that is every time I entertain that fantasy, I'm also fucking her.

There's an entire ocean before me that deserves my reverence, yet all I want to do is give it to her.

“As pretty as that mouth is, I'm going to need you to fucking shut it.”

“Oh God,” I cry, trying to keep my voice down but failing miserably. “Can you see him, baby? Ask him for forgiveness.” “Why?” I pant, another high-pitched moan nearly swallowing the word. “Because you worship me now.”

She will always bite the hand that feeds her because she's more comfortable being starved when it's all she's ever known.

“Running and hiding is easier. Sometimes, I will say and do anything to get someone to turn their attention away from me. It feels safer that way. Confrontation… it’s never led to anything good.”

We built our tower to Heaven, but God is angry again, and once more, we’re speaking different languages.

I shake my head. He's wrong. I've been ready. I've just been too stubborn to give up doing the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do. Live.

“Do you know what attracts a predator to its prey, amore mio?” “What?” I whisper. “When it’s hurt,” he murmurs, placing a featherlight kiss on my jaw. “I love it when you're hurt, baby, but only when it's me who inflicts the pain.”

“Choose to live, bella. Choose me.”

I’m not ready to walk away from the whispers of death, but something about the way Enzo holds me is so much more enticing. He doesn’t know it, but in this very moment, I am choosing him.

“Because anyone who looks at what’s mine will never live to tell about it,”

“È impossibile odiarti quando mi fai sentire così vivo,”

She’ll have less oxygen this time, but I want to fuck her while she feels like she’s dying.

“Your words have always just been words,” he murmurs quietly. “But your silence is honest, and that’s where I always find my answers. That’s where I hear everything you don’t say.”

“Show me where you hurt so I know where to love you most.”

“There’s a place in the ocean, so deep, where not a single point of light penetrates through it. And for so long, I’ve been trapped there, unable to breathe. When I met you, you lifted me out of that darkness, and it was the first time I came up for air. You’ve become my oxygen, bella ladra, and I can no longer breathe without you.”

“Baby. Shut the fuck up.” “Rude,” she mutters,

Being a man doesn’t make you special. Last time I checked, I’m the murderer, not you.” I raise my brows. “I’ll be happy to make it even, bella.”

If you getting the best of me requires the world getting the worst of me, you will want for nothing in life,

“Well, you better get in the water with the understanding that you have someone to come home to also,” I tell him shyly, keeping my eyes focused on my task and avoiding his probing stare. “Look at me,” he murmurs softly, grabbing my wrist. “Don’t run.”