Does It Hurt?

by H.D. Carlton

“We’ll cross paths again, Sawyer. 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.”

“You’re going to ruin me, too. But unfortunately for you, that’s where I feel most at home.”

“Nervous?” he asks, stepping down onto the deck. “We’re in the middle of a big bowl of monster soup. I’m pretty sure I should’ve brought diapers.”

“The bean gods,” she repeats, reaching the last step and coming up to a cement pathway. “Canned beans survive the apocalypse. They’re always the number one thing left in cabinets after the world ends. So, I imagine they’ll be in this abandoned lighthouse that potentially hasn’t seen life since the dinosaurs.”

“Does it hurt, baby?” he asks quietly. “Not being able to scream for me like you want to.”

I’ve never been good at confrontation. Throwing up the peace sign and moonwalking out of the vicinity is my go-to response.

“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.”

“No more running, baby. I want him to come looking for you just so I can have the privilege of ending his life for touching what’s mine.”

She’s walking lightning. Both beautiful and fucking destructive.

“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.”