For the Love of Layla

by Callie Moss

My good mood is immediately diminished by the realization that she just marched her cute little ass out here at the first sign of danger. What if some strange man was out here, lying in wait for you?

Blistering hot anger bubbles up in my chest at the thought of anyone but me putting their hands on her soft skin. Gripping the gentle slope of her neck. It seems lately anger has been my primary setting. She’s destroyed everything. Our life, love, my fucking sanity. I miss you, little star.

I know it’s not right, training a dog to be aggressive towards any man but me, but the ends justify the means.

Layla is mine. My little star, my only fucking love. The reason my chest rises and falls. Why my eyes open every morning and my heart forces blood through my veins. It’s all for her.

She’s so beautiful. I had no choice but to fall so dangerously deep into her orbit.

If I’m being honest with myself, something I’m making a point to do more of. Honesty is the best policy and all that. I’ve always had a habit of fixating. Granted, that always worked to my advantage. My attention to detail is in part what made me so successful. When I met my little star, I unknowingly turned that neurotic part of myself on her. She consumed me. I would have it no other way.

Spiders don’t announce themselves before they devour the cockroaches caught in their webs.

Like writing paragraph long captions under the asinine ill-informed quoted opinions of Instagram influencers requires literary genius.

“It’s part of my creative process. I’m trying to get laid tonight. This outing is far from casual, the blue is casual. It doesn’t scream rail me in your parents’ bed.”

“See, Lay! Fuck him, right now. I gave you your getting laid homework three months ago and still nothing.”

He made me feel special. Like only I existed to him.

Adjusting to life without him, slowly realizing how odd his behavior was. Even if it worked for me for the most part, I can acknowledge how far from normal he was. Or as Ava puts it, creepy, obsessive and toxic.

“Rebound sex.” She sings softly to the tune of Birthday Sex as she gets her things together. I wad up my napkin, throwing it at her face, “We’re going to watch his band, that hardly means I’m going to fuck the guy.” “You’re gonna get your cheeks clapped.” She continues singing.

“You’re being dramatic. It’s been two weeks tops. Could’ve been sooner if you weren’t getting dicked down every night.” She gasps as we make it to my car, “Slut shaming in 2022?” “Not slut shaming, Ava shaming.”

Just breathe. You’re perfectly safe here with Peaches. If you’re not grandpa’s guns are just a few doors away.

Set up camp outside your therapist’s office. Cry a lot. Lose yourself to the abyss. The last one might be a bit melodramatic.

“If you peek again, I will edge that sweet cunt of yours until you cry.”

It looks like a set from a movie, not something someone does in real life. Much less for someone you’ve been dating for less than a month, “Wait, you made this?” This is husband stuff. Let you put it in my butt level sweet.

Why can’t I stop thinking about him? Why do I care? He was insane, quick-tempered, possessive and insecure.

“People wear many faces, Layla. If you leave it up to them to show you the difference between them, you’ll always be in the dark.”

I’m not ready for you to know, not yet anyway. Not until I’ve broken you down to your core and stripped you bare. Don’t worry, I’ll build you back up once we get there. I’ll always build you back up, take care of you. Even when you don’t think you need it.

You should’ve listened to my warning, little star. I didn’t want anyone to get hurt. This is your fault, Layla.

Every moment away from her is a fucking battle. Fighting the urge to take her sweet body, chain her and lock her away from the world. So I can fuck, touch and hold her anytime I want.

I don’t just want her at my side, I want to consume her. Merge our bodies, so she’s always with me. Bound to me until I take my last breath. I need her. I’ve never needed anything like I do her, not food, not air or water.

Squelch. Such a cute sound, just like her.

Last thing I want tonight is a pair of grippy socks.

I suppose I could’ve spent more time really digging into what made her tick instead of burying my cock in her twenty-four seven, but Layla feels like an angel dripped in fucking sin.

Feeling her clench and come apart on my dick was the closest I’ve ever been to heaven.

Calling my sweet Layla my fiancée, she hasn’t agreed yet, but I couldn’t help it when I announced our engagement.

I can feel his stare before I look up. My core heating at the prospect of having his full attention, I feel it as sure as the heat pressing into my palm. It’s all-encompassing, damming and fuck me, I’ve missed it.

All I’ve ever done is love you, love you better than anyone else ever could. Yet you insist on making things difficult for us.

pants. It’s been too long since I’ve seen her up close. These past four days have been hell. Calling, emailing, texting constantly. Waiting outside our home like a fucking peeping Tom, desperate for a glimpse.

Being ignored by her is enough to drive anyone to extremes.

So fucking adorable. Too bad you’re such a fucking brat.

What right do I have to be upset when I enjoyed his touch? When the things he murmured in my ear instilled in me both blinding fear and butterflies?

But I’m not. I suppose I’m not really fine either. I’m upset and angry. I’m humiliated and scared. I’m also… curious. Which scares me more than any of it.

“You said you didn’t think he wanted to hurt you.” I can hear the skepticism in her voice, I know it makes no sense because he did hurt me. But he also made me feel good. He cleaned me, doctored my wounds, changed the bloody sheets. He cared for me. “Yeah, he was aggressive, sure, but soft.”

My phone rings for the twentieth time today. I know it’s him and so does she. The silence in the room apart from the jarring ring is fat and unforgiving.

I can tell it’s freaking her out. I want to turn it off. I want to shove the fucking thing down the garbage disposal, but what happens if I do? Would he hurt the people I care for? Hurt me? Just another thing to feel sorry for.

Shoving my hands into the pocket of my dark purple hoodie I run my shaking fingers over the note he left me. You should be more observant. I left you this bracelet over a week ago. I’ll see you soon, lítla ást.

Little love in Icelandic. I’ve never even left the state of California. How in the absolute fuck I stole the attention of a stalker that speaks Icelandic well enough to have a heavy accent is beyond me.

When Ava finds something mind numbing enough to watch, she tosses the remote to the other end of the couch and gets to work absent-mindedly braiding and twisting at my hair. All I can think about is how badly I wish she’d leave. How badly I want to run to Liam, to throw myself int...

I’m a hypocrite, a freak, and a ter...

I lift my legs from where they dangled off the side of the house, staring at the deep purple bruise forming on my thigh. Nothing like getting woken up by to being kicked by steel toe boots, all because he forgot to pay the water bill again. I know grandpa gave him money for it. I also know within the hour dad shot it straight up his arm.

My chest aches when I think of grandpa. His house used to be my safe place, my solace away from this hell hole of a trailer park. Too scared to walk around outside at night knowing the heated stare of our neighbor, my father’s dealer Jeremy lingers on my skin.

I miss when he just used to drink. At least heroin keeps him mostly docile. It’s scary though. It’s been years since he picked up the new habit and I still haven’t gotten used to seeing him like that. The way he groans and his eyes roll back in his skull, hi...

I’m no longer allowed at grandpa’s because dad is scared I might ask for help. I guess that makes sense. Grandpa has always been one of the few that isn’t fooled...

He can go from the stand-up fun loving yet firm father and the next minute make my life so fucking hellish I con...

Just a few more years I can go to college. I can be a journalist, expose liars and assholes just like him. Maybe even people worse than him. It’s hard to imagine there are people...