Does It Hurt?

by H.D. Carlton

He hums against me before growling, “How does it feel to be eaten alive?” “It’s not enough,” I mewl breathlessly. “I’d rather you fuck me to death.”

“You’re not dying.” “You sure? I think I hear Jesus talking to me.” “Then you’re definitely not dying. Jesus would never talk to you.” She snorts, then groans. “You’re right. Maybe it’s just your voice I’m hearing, and that’s my sign I’m going to Hell. You are the devil, after all.” If I’m the devil, she’s fucking Lilith.

“I can walk.” “You’ve proven you can fall, too.”

“That won't happen, either. I don't think you're ready to die.” 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.

“I’ve spent so much time running that I don’t remember why I’m living.”

“Can you, like, not make me cry right now, please? I’m trying to look like a badass.”

I hope I’m returning the favor and keeping the ghosts up as they did me. If I don’t get to sleep, the dead don’t get to, either.

“But I’m going to. I don’t want to be angry with you anymore, Sawyer. I did swear that I wouldn’t be cruel, but I realize now that for me to keep my promise, I’m going to have to fucking forgive you. And I’m going to have to trust you. If I’m going to give you everything you deserve, then I have to give you all of me.”

He hovers over me, planting his hands on either side of my head and caging me in. This… this is the only cage I want to be in.

“You are a thief, baby. You stole my name, and now you’ve taken my heart, too. Demand anything else from me, and I’ll give it to you.”

But what is surviving without living, and what is death without pain?

Enzo’s already spent the last five minutes arguing with me to get out of the water before I catch a cold. His eye started twitching when I told him I’m very good at dodgeball and promised to duck if I saw a cold coming my way.

Unexpectedly, a sob nearly bursts from my throat. It’s so simple—a shower and takeout—but it feels like he’s leading me into paradise.

“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.”