Our love

A moment for my life

I stare at the side of his bed with tears puddled in my eyes. The blankets are tightly pulled back and the pillow is plump and set with no dents or sign of life.
A heavily sigh runs over my mouth and follows by the uncomfortable feeling in my stomach.

This is the first time I feel alone in this place. Even when I woke up with no idea of where I was, I still had myself. Now I can't even feel the disgust in myself lurking behind and whispering in my ear.
When I was with him he took all the bad away and gave me good to eat of; now everything is gone. He took the bad and left me with numbness and an empty sensation.

I know this is unhealthy. To feel so attached to someone just because they could put a smile on my face. But Emilio felt different, maybe because he actually seemed to care about how I felt, or because in my life only one human actually wanted good for me.

My mother carved out my life with the things she'd never had. When she died, my father made my childhood something even worse than what she'd experienced. He's the devil, for years he'd throw me in a dark basement and listen as I cried and screamed for him to let me out.

I became a person to apologize for things that never were my fault. When men would touch me and blame the fact of what I was wearing, I would apologize. When my father would beat me and blame the fact of what I'd done to her, I'd apologize.

"I'm sorry!"
"Dad I'm so sorry, please" I cried. no.
Nothing ever stopped the way he would pound and break me inside out.

And his words of all bruised me most. Last night when I became weak to something just because of inexperience, I caved and let myself become innocent. My father would repeat over and over, "love doesn't give you happiness, being selfish will".
Love is weak and it only gets you hurt. I believed him for as long as I could remember. I'd hurt myself when I'd look at a man in a happy matter only because the warmth of what I felt was because of his actions.

And Emilio. Not only did he make me feel warm and safe. I let him. I'm the one to blame in all this because all it would take was a simple no problem shake of my head. Weak, I'm and only ever been weak.

Last night he didn't follow me back to his room. He sat in that washroom as I left and never returned to the room. I hate most of all that I still feel the hidden worry in my stomach; I hadn't slept last night because as much hurt as I expressed, I still wanted him safe.

I couldn't shut my eyes or ears as every small noise and sound would only retract my thoughts back to him and how that could be him dying.

I jump slightly as an object bangs against the bars outside my cell. My eyes lift to the officer who put his hands all over me during the fight. I swallow the roughness in my throat and watch as he slowly rounds the door whilst keeping his eyes caved in me. "We're doing rounds, stand up" he hisses. Checking his shoulder before stepping in.

He looks around and places his eyes on Emilios bed with a slim grin. "Where is your cell mate?" He asks, glaring at me.
I shake my head and break my eyes from his, "he went to get food" I stutter. Cringing as even talking about him makes my stomach turn.

He stands there for a minute. Switching his eyes from the neatly folded mattress to mine.
"Lay down" he states. Staring at me roughly.

I inhale roughly and contemplate my chances of sprinting out of this room and hoping for the best. Will anyone actually help me though? Nobody in this prison likes me because of what happened with that woman. If I run where will I go and who actually gives a fuck.

I look at him for a long moment and wait till the anger rises. I can't lay in a bed with another person when the only thing I actually wanted used to. His scent will fade, the image of only him laying there will vanish.