𝑺𝒑𝒆𝒏𝒄𝒆𝒓 𝑹𝒆𝒊𝒅 𝑶𝒏𝒆𝒔𝒉𝒐𝒕𝒔

Pathetic - Part One

Her body ached as she walked, each step sending a searing pain through her limbs and a tingling sensation to shoot through her muscles. Skin still aflame as the cool autumn breeze waltzed through the streets, the handprints and bites that littered y/n's an all too similar shade of the deepest crimson as that of the thousands of leaves that cracked beneath her unstable gait.

Images of the previous night flashed upon her inward eye, pleading gasps and animalistic, unrelenting desire. The feeling of his lips against her ear as he welcomed her into the carnival that was sin and pleasure, a wild circus that was unbearably overwhelming, frantic and loud. Yet the flashing lights and ghostly touches were far too hypnotizing for anyone to consider escaping. Like entering a wonderland, so mind melting, a place where the air was smoke and your thoughts were nothing but fantasies, where time dripped and poured like the unsteady pour of the teapot, a land where everybody danced on a tightrope between delirium and salvation.

And Spencer's touch had been like the rabbit, taunting, beckoning her to join him in his hysterical festival. To drink each drop she was offered, to feast like a starved man, to forget her conscience for a while. For in wonderland there were no policies, it was a place of primal craving and forbidden indulgence. A nirvana between the rush of the world and the passion of hysteria.

The night had started as a girl's night, y/n being dragged from the solace of her flat by her roommates to enjoy one last night of unadulterated joy and copious amounts of alcohol. It had been less than an hour after they had left, skin showing, and faces painted that she spotted him. Features like a young Adonis, cheekbones carved from the most lavish marble, sharp and daunting in the adumbral scarlet lights that kissed his freckle littered ivory skin. Hair that seemed to be made of the finest golden thread only ever heard of in fairytales, eyes like kaleidoscopes that entranced anyone that dared look into their mesmerizing depths.

A conniving smirk spread across the petal soft expanse of his lips, teeth biting the silken pillow and almost drawing blood as his breath grew heavy and umber eyes were cloaked in the rich onyx mask of his pupils. A single glance and y/n had handed her very soul to the devilish man, taken her first step down the rabbit hole. Moments later she was plummeting, something not quite wonderland awaiting below. Rather a fleeting paradise, momentary bliss that would still leave her brain clouded and eyes rolling back.

A sigh left y/n's lips as she snapped from her trance, her cold and rigid muscles relaxing as the heat of the building flooded her. Harsh fluorescent lights bore down on everybody, bright rays that left many people's eyes squinted and heads pounding by the end of the class. Conspicuous whispers and curious rumors filled the hall as they awaited the arrival of their new professor, many girls giggling and cooing already, claiming to have spotted him earlier that day.

For a moment, y/n could have sworn she had heard the name of her partner from the night before, but it was nothing but a fleeting whisper, a word spoken in the wind. She shook her head, trying to brush the feeling that perhaps he truly had been mentioned, that in a minute he would walk through the doors. Suit clinging tightly to his body, a body y/n had seen every inch of, felt beneath her fingertips, watched as it shuddered beneath her amorous embrace.

With a shaky breath, y/n tilted her head downward, eyes aimlessly scanning the empty pages in front of her. Mind flooding with memories of the night before, his hands haunting her skin with his ghostly touch, body set alight yet again by nothing but the idea of the man. A deep, unrelenting need to feel him once again, to listen to the grunts and heaving breaths as they fanned across her ear, the graze of his teeth against her throat as he kissed and claimed.

With each feather light kiss he took a tighter hold of her mind and soul, by the end of the night, as they lay upon rugged silken sheets, breath panting and skin glistening with a crystalline gleam. He held each piece of her sanity, her very soul sitting in his slender palms.

A sudden presence beside her pulled y/n from the glorious daze she had entered yet again, the overpowering scent of cologne and whiskey flooding her senses, the expensive smell disgusting compared to the mellow hints of coffee and vanilla that would wash over her when she was in Spencer's company.

Y/n hated herself for already comparing everybody she met to Spencer, a night of meaningless pleasure that held so much hold on her. She felt ridiculous, like a pathetic little girl, infatuated with someone just because they gave her a morsel of affection and tenderness, mind overlooking how she was thrown from his bed mere moments later. How his skin was already painted with the bruises she had longed to splay across him, the name that sat on the tip of his tongue wasn't hers, how he degraded her to a point of dehumanity. Until she was left nothing but an empty shell, a body used, a face disregarded and replaced.

She had sold her soul to the man and he had thrown it away, careless, heartbroken. But not because of y/n, she wasn't lucky enough to be the one that shattered his heart, forced him to resolve to nights of aggression and momentary serenity. No, she was nothing but the rebound, the doll that he released his rage upon. A body he could ravage and destroy, and the most pitiful thing about it, was that y/n was willing to be that pawn again.

Why did she ache for him so desperately after nothing more than a moments affection, as if what she was given could be classed as affection, it was the pieces of his broken heart. Shards thrown at her, and the cuts that littered her skin from his violent devotion were nothing but a reminder of how little he cared. Yet her body still craved him, her heart still stammered when he walked into the hall, eyes blazing and expression dangerous. Jealousy still bubbled in her veins as she heard her classmates drool and fawn, it was the worst kind of torture, to feel so possessive over something that wasn't yours in the first place.

Y/n searched for his eyes the whole lecture, praying that perhaps her adoration could transfer to him if she managed to meet his wandering gaze. But every time she did, all that shine back was her empty reflection, a hollowness filling the once pleasure ridden golden pools that had blessed her with their aurelian glow.

For all that his look was dismissive, the longing not mirroring y/n's, each time it lay upon her, her skin would flush, hairs raised and the miserable ache deep inside her grew and her skin ached for him again. She felt overwhelmed, body begging for his touch, mind both disgusted and encapsulated. It meant nothing; she would tell herself. But what if it did? A cruel voice would whisper in the back of her mind, keeping her in limbo, unaware of whether to hate or care for the man.

By the end of the class her heart was aching and mind was swarming, yet one thing was clear, she needed to speak to Spencer.