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Like every woman before me, my soul was born fractured.
Men are evil, Ariana. They take and take without remorse. Without apology. They will drag you to the depths of hell and leave you there, helpless and alone with no one to blame but yourself.”
To stand out, you have to be good. More than that, you have to be great. Phenomenal.
Malice drips off the last words of her sentence as she releases me, dropping onto my skin like venom and burning where it touches.
“But by the time I’m through with you, only the most hideous, monstrous creature will be able to love you.” What I don’t say: I believe you.
Evidently, not everyone in the world is married to their career, and those who are tend to cheat on their wives frequently. Or die early.
I’ve never been very keen on wanting what everyone else desires. I like the rejects.
Still, I’m powerless against the sentiment at this point in my life. It’s hereditary. A disease not unlike cancer in how it appears sometimes out of nowhere, metastasizing into an incurable illness that ravages your body when left unchecked.
What’s the point in going out if no one even notices you?
Fuck acquiescing guilt. I’ll just be buried alongside my sins. They’ll be my company in hell.
“Besides, you’re not my father.” “Good thing,” he mutters, toying with the waistband of my leggings. “I think I’d kill myself if I had such a fuckup for a daughter.”
Apparently, allowing yourself to be touched by strangers in front of other strangers is the way to go.
Most people will believe what you tell them if it’s what they want to hear. They don’t want the truth; they just want whatever reality makes them feel best.
Men don’t stop wanting what they want even if it’s a little dirtied up. They’ll take pride in making it worse.
Some pain is necessary. A means to a better end.
“And you’ll have yours in a box if you do not remove them from her person immediately.”
“Doesn’t seem wise to speak about another man’s wife that way,” I tell him in a low voice. “Especially when you don’t know how that man might react.”
Pure, unadulterated beauty. Such a rare sight to behold in this life that doing so now feels sacrilegious.
She doesn’t say anything. I think she likes being watched. Nothing comes from my mouth either. I like watching.
She’s wicked. Sin wrapped in a beautiful, angelic human form that I fear I’d never be quite sated with after one taste.
What you don’t know can kill you, and I never want to give anyone that power.
The seeds of things you care for don’t stop sprouting just because you can’t water them daily; they’re far more resilient than that.
Poison never would’ve been a satisfying enough end for her anyway.
I’ll wait for her to repent there.
Burnout doesn’t make sense to people who haven’t experienced it.
“Probably hard to notice your husband’s return when you’re busy making googly eyes at strangers outside.”
“You think this is about fucking?” he taunts. His breath ghosts over my face, caressing my bare skin with its warmth. “It’s about owning, Little Nightmare. You are my goddamn wife, and every part of you is mine to do with as I please. Not anyone else’s.”
Emotional pain, the stuff you can’t see, never seems to go back the way it was created. Like every memory imprints itself on your brain, scarring where you can’t reach to erase.
The problem is, I’m starting to think the power isn’t all I want.
Last time, he was quick to reassure me. Now, it’s all threat.
“Why were you so upset with them?” “Because you’re my wife and no one is allowed to hurt you.”
“Because there are no lengths I wouldn’t go to in order to earn your forgiveness.”
“I’m tired of only getting pieces of you, Cash. Give me everything or stop asking me for the whole picture.”
“I don’t have time to go around shooting everyone who’s ever touched you.”
“God, please do not apologize or say this was a mistake. I might actually kill you.”
Which means everything that goes wrong is only going to hurt more.
“Love cannot exist without trust.”
The connection is foreign, intimate, and wholly unique, and I could watch it for hours.
I’m pretty certain she’s never had anyone who just wanted to be with her. To exist as a planet in her orbit, and for the life of me, I can’t understand why.
You can buy happiness. You can buy anything if you know its value. But my greed extends beyond that little green monster and bleeds into my feelings for Ariana.
There’s vulnerability laced in her tone, and it’s my undoing. She is my undoing.
I’m afraid I’m broken, and there’s no repairing it. So, instead of saying any of that, I push up off the seat and kiss him. Because that’s where I feel safe.
“Everything’s fine. It’s just role play.”
No matter how packed a room or how much distance we put between us, I would notice her. My soul aches for hers, recognizing it immediately, and I take the stairs to the next level two at a time.
“Let them. If you’re leaving me, let them see how good you got it from your husband, so they know they’ll never fucking compare.”
I’m so sick of people undermining my value just because it doesn’t look like what they want it to.
Once again, my heart shatters over and over for the little girl who only ever wanted her father’s love. She probably would’ve been broken by such a grand gesture since she kind of lived for those things, but for some reason, I still can’t find it in me to feel bad for present me.
“My wife,” I repeat, relishing the taste of those words on the tip of my tongue. “You sure?” “Well, that depends.”
“Of course I love you.” She kisses me then, soaking up the warmth of my words. “How could I do anything but?”
And maybe we aren’t getting the classic fairy-tale dream together. But I don’t need that anyway. The nightmares are so much more appealing.
