Behind Blue Eyes

29

March 29th

I'm over at Paul's place. He welcomes me with open arms. We head for his bedroom and proceed to watch a couple of movies. It was early in the afternoon by the time I first got there. He holds me the entire time. It feels nice. This is, for sure, something I'm gonna miss when I'm gone.

"How are you f-f-f-feeling?" he asks me near the end of the evening.

I look up at him and reply "I'm OK." I hate lying to him after everything he's done with me, but I don't wanna raise any alarms with him.

"That's OK. Just a-a-a-as long as you feel s-s-s-s-s-s-safe, that's good by m-me."

I smile and give him a small kiss on the lips.

After we eat dinner (he orders takeout to fill the void), we're both energized. I don't worry about flying into a manic state, because I don't feel that coming on.

"Is it OK if I can use your shower?" I ask him.

"Of course" he tells me. "We have shampoo and s-s-s-stuff that you're free to u-u-u-u-use."

"That's OK. I have my overnight bag, remember?"

"That's right" He remembers. "It's all yours. I'll m-m-m-meet you in my room, ok?"

"OK" I smile. I traipse upstairs.

I turn on the bathroom light and turn the shower handle. The water comes bursting out so smoothly. It's crisp. I turn it to the hottest level I can take and undress.

I step into the shower and feel the water cascading over my body. It alleviates some of the tension and hell my mind has been going through. I spend almost fifteen minutes in here.

After my shower, I shut it off and hear the drops slow down after a minute before it's fully quiet. I dry myself off and put on my white bathrobe. I stare at myself in the mirror. My eyeliner that I had put on before I came over has completely vanished. I debate on drying my hair, but I decide on ultimately not doing so.

I'm feeling a bit... frisky. It's been awhile since anything sexual has happened with me and I feel a sudden dose of seratonin rushing to my brain. I hope Paul is open to the idea.

I shut the light off and walk out, walking down the hall and into his bedroom. I knock after Paul doesn't look up right away. After I do so, he looks up.

"Hey, you have any p-p-problems?"

"No" I smile.

"Did you not have a-a-a-any extra clothes?"

"Overnight bag, remember?" I still keep my smirk up.

"You OK?" he asks.

"Oh yeah, I'm good." He stands up and walks over to me.

"Good, you say?"

"Yeah." I lean in slowly and start kissing him. He places his arms around me and pulls me in as close as he can. I place my hands on his cheeks and start to pull back, eventually breaking contact. He looks concerned.

"Is something wrong?" he asks.

I shake my head. "Far from it." I kiss him on his cheek and stand back.

"What are you doing?"

"Shhhh" I press my finger to his lips. I place my hands on the strings of my robe and slowly undo it.

"Sam?"

I place my hands on the top of the flaps and start to peel them back ever so slowly. But before I can even reveal myself to him, he places his hands on mine and stops me dead in my tracks.

"Sam, what are you d-d-d-doing?" he asks.

"I'm..." I stop, getting very confused. "Is this not something that you want?" I softly ask him.

He doesn't say anything right after I ask him, so I repeat it. "Is this not something that you want to do with me?"

"It's not that" he begins.

"Then what is it?"

"I just..." he sighs. "I don't think I'm ready f-f-f-f-for this, just y-y-yet."

I feel really humiliated. "I'm sorry. I can't believe I was so stupid to think that."

"H-h-h-h-hold on, you're not stupid. At all. Please don't ever think that."

"No, I am. I can't believe that I would even think of doing something like this." I start sobbing. "Turn around, please" I tell him.

He just stands there, frozen in confusion. "I said turn around, please" I shout.

"O-O-O-O-OK" he says, "I'm sorry."

As soon as he averts his eyes, I take my robe off and start dressing myself. I'm in a frantic state and can barely breathe by the time I'm done. I stuff everything leftover into my bag and head for his door. He hears this and whips around. "Sam?"

I keep heading for the front door and successfully make it out to my car. I unlock it and throw my bag in, but Paul stops me before I can sit inside. "Sam!" he calls.

"What?" I shout at him, tears streaming down my face.

"Sam, j-j-j-just because I wasn't ready y-y-yet, doesn't mean I don't want you here, anymore. You u-u-u-undertsnd that, right?"

I close my eyes and take a deep breath. "I know. I know, but I can't stay. I'm too humiliated to stay."

"Babe, you-"

I put my hand up. "I have to go. I'm sorry." I get into my car, start it and back out of his driveway, driving off as he stands there, tears starting to well up in his eyes. Fuck, fuck, fuck. I hate this.

When I get home, I blow upstairs and head for the bathroom. I close the door and slide down on my back, sitting on the cold tile. I take a razor blade from the counter and start cutting into my right wrist. Two slashes, each one going through like ease. I'm too used to this, again. This is getting scary.

I let the blood slowly trickle out before I take the time to get up, clean myself off and bandage it all up. It's a routine I shouldn't be accustomed too, but it is what it is at this fucking point. I can't believe I would be stupid to think he'd wanna see me like that. My body's all fucking gross and fucking mangled; of course he doesn't want to see it.

Two more days. hat's what I keep repeating to myself. Just two more days and I'll be out of here. It's literally just a a matter of time by this point.