Goodbye for now

Fractured Fantasy

"You were the best thing that ever happened to me," he huffs out a humorless laugh. A dark look falls over his face before he speaks, "I'on think so" he says slow and lazily. He brushes my hair back, unhurried, unrushed. So gently that his fingers just barely graze my face. "I'm the worst thing that ever happened to you. I corrupted you. Sold you carefully crafted delusions." He inspects the painfully bloated skin around my eye. His features only darken more with a new wave of rage. Anger that I know isn't directed at me.

"What?"

"I don't believe you." I shift closer to him on the couch. The room looks familiar but different somehow. I can't quite put my finger on it. Almost like it's an illusion. A mask distorting the real thing. He doesn't protest when I rest my head on his shoulder. In fact, he pulls me closer to him with the arm around my waist and I accept it. Snuggling into him. Relishing in the feel of him.

"God, I forgot how hot you were." I giggle out. He actually blushes, a cute rosy tint flames onto his cheeks which only makes me want him more. I snatch my hand away from his face when shame fills me. Confusion fills his eyes but he doesn't say anything. I had impure thoughts. Would he know that I lusted after someone else? Someone who wasn't him. It's written all over my face, isn't it? He knows, I know he knows, I considered being unfaithful.

I never knew my heart could beat so loudly in my own ears. The pounding echoes through my head. The bottle is sealed with a metal cap. The "alcohol is addictive" on the label stands out boldly right in front of my face. My head rests upright on my folded arms. I'm still building up the courage to drown once again. Temptation burns through me, twisting and unfurling. But the only thing I get to drown in tonight is my guilt. Returning back to the scratchy couch after my failed midnight snack.

Since when was this bed so comfortable? A soft quiet cocoon where I get to spread my arms and legs as wide open as I please. This morning is like a warm hug. Everything is calm even though the top half of my face still throbs in pain and it hurts when I move my cheek. A weight has been lifted off of my shoulders. It felt like I was carrying the world on them. The soft sheer curtains drape down from the rod. Letting beautiful colors dance around the room. The room is decorated strategically so that every single item holds value, sings a soul-stirring haunting memory, shapes my dreams.

The hallway smells like bleach. The poignant smell hits my nose and I instantly feel like something is wrong. All of the tasteful frames have been removed from the walls. The long rug was nowhere to be seen. Life has been sucked out of the upstairs rooms. Once vibrant and filled with colors that offer you the warmth and comfort of a home, now are dull, boring, and sterile.

The pictures that once lined the staircase are also absent. All of the plane walls blur together. Not a single speck of dust or color. They remain unblemished. As if this were a brand new house that has never had the privilege of being lived in. The hairs on the back of my neck stand on edge. Adrenaline is pumping and coursing through my veins. My gut feeling that something is wrong should be more than enough to stop me from making my way to the kitchen. But my bare feet still trek on.

"Rio?"

He turns his head to me. Both his elbows rest upon the island. With his hands holding up his head and his arms caging in a cup of coffee as he slouches over and all I can think is that he looks like death incarnate. Ha, I feel like death! I snicker. His eyes and cheeks are sunken in. He struggles to keep his eyelids open. Lines of stress are etched into his skin. He's lost his usual flare, his charm, the aura that usually follows him everywhere he goes. He looks unamused, a small frown tugs at his lips. I want to hold him and tell him that everything will be okay.

Did I not actually wake up? I draw closer to him slowly, wanting to touch him. See if he's real. He's perched on an island chair. The only other piece of furniture left in the house. I hold my hand out as I get near to him, ready to cradle his cheek in my palm. There's a flash drive sitting on the counter next to the tall red mug. It's shiny and black. Of all the contents in the house, this is what he keeps? I pick it up instead. Bringing it high up and inspecting with my eyes squinted. This tiny piece of plastic holds all of the answers. If I wake up right now will it still be in my hand?

I see the secrets that he hides. I don't know what they are but he's not concealing them as well as he thinks. I know they're there. His barriers have been broken down. They're crumbling when they once stood tall and strong. Even the strongest of cliffs are eventually broken down by waves repeatedly crashing and slamming into them if given enough time. His eyes are so captivatingly beautiful, once he's hooked me I'm stuck, not because they're an unusual color but because I want to know if the skeletons in his closet dance and sing with string knotted tightly around their wrists. It's a puzzle or a riddle for me to solve.

"Honey, I'm home" he drawls out. He doesn't enunciate at all, stretching the vowels out like a piece of malleable taffy. He almost sounds drunk and I would believe so if I wasn't standing this close to him. He radiates heat. The side of me that is closest to him feels warm so I shuffle nearer to him wanting my whole body to heat up. But not too close. If I touch him I know that I might burn. Maybe I'm already burnt

"Miss me?"