Kid

by Jescie Hall

“What’s your favorite sea animal?” I’ve never heard a question asked in such a sexy tone. God, she’s so random and constantly throwing me off guard. “Blobfish,” I answer after a moment to think. “Random,” she responds, drawing her brows together. “Honest.” “Why?” she asks. “They have no bones. The dark environment in which they survive literally supports them. Plus, they got a bad rep. They aren’t ugly until you remove them from their comfort zone.”

“She’s your purpose.” I scoff at his words. “What do you know about purpose? You play the harmonica.” He stills, facing me, so I make a face at him. “Complete the band and you’ll bring her back,” he croaks out. “What?” He isn’t making any sense. “Complete the band,” he says again in a disgusting hoarse whisper. “What the fuck are you talking about?!” I yell out, getting angry at Norbert for his word vomit. “I don’t think I said anything,” Han answers, bringing me the water. “But who knows? Words tend to slip when time changes.”

“Dark water is a scary, scary place. Things pull you under when you least expect it,” I reply, not talking about the water at all.

Today I want to drown in her. Sink down beneath her surface and fucking drown in everything that she is. I want her in my lungs, in my veins, in my soul. I need her to end me in all the ways imaginable so I can live in her dark, impenetrable hell.

She’s the gateway drug to a lifetime of addictions, not of this world. Her drug is the kind that you overdose on, knowing you’ll never be the same again after her.

She likes the pain mixed with pleasure the same way I do, needing it to remind us which dimension we’re in.

“I think you’re a passionate person. Someone who gets their addictions confused with a true need to feel things. That energy, that passion, it’s yours to own, not the substances around you.”

The things I love about you have nothing to do with what you can do for me or who I want you to be, I’m obsessed with who you are as a person, how your past has formed this mysterious, alluring, phenomenally captivating woman through the experiences you’ve unfortunately endured.”

But, of course, like everything else in my life, reality hits and the fictional mirage I’ve created in my head needs to be snuffed out against the rough concrete like the burnt end of a fucking roach.

She’s the darkness, and I’m the light. We aren’t meant to exist together in the same space, and yet we find all the ways in which we can bleed together in order to be one and the same. But not even the brightest lights can stay lit forever.

You never hide your emotions. Why?” “Why would I? I’m proud of them. I love to feel. Even if the feeling isn’t preferred, or in most instances appropriate.” I chuckle softly. “I’m still feeling. I’m alive.”

“Sometimes it’s good to feel, and sometimes I feel too much, and I need to find a way to numb it all.”

I’m not looking to fix her. I’m here for the process, to break alongside her, so we’re in pieces together. Even the playing field, so we can build ourselves into something new, free from resentment, free from standards. We can just be us.

I think you’re a passionate person. Someone who gets their addictions confused with a true need to feel things. That energy, that passion, it’s yours to own, not the substances around you.

He had an addictive personality and latched onto things he knew could hurt him because then he would never be disappointed. He knew what to expect. But I wanted him to love himself the way he loved me. I desperately ached for him to love the man I knew was worth loving. I wanted him addicted to who he was and who he could be.