the him of hers

16

My body comes down from the high position it was in. I'm thinking my feet would land on the floor gently. But he harshly brings my body down, and releases me out of his hold and onto the floor.

"Ok. Oh. Ow..." I groan from the pain roaming through my body as I hold my stomach while now lying on the floor. "that asshole trait...still burns...bright inside of you."

He comes to crouch down beside me and moves a unclear hand to my vision closer to my face. A scoff comes out, his favorite noise to make, and De's voice is the only thing clear when he says, "A pathetic girl. I have to stop my time, for your benefit." His fingers move the  strands of hair that's fallen on my face to behind my ear.

"No...you only only tend to me when you feel like..." I don't feel like finishing my sentence. My words feel heavy, there's no energy in them.

No energy in me.

Because those awful words of his extracted the very last bit I had out of me. My last bit of fuel is no longer here.

The argument wouldn't be fair.

I close my eyes and just imagine. Imagine everything that could be right now. Imagine how much better of I person I could really be.

Imagine...not being a pathetic girl.

"Yeah...yeah you're right man. I'm pathetic. Mhm...boom. Guess what...you've solved the...the motherfucking puzzle." I sarcastically congratulate him in a hushed whisper. The fake enthusiasm to go with it is barely making it. But it's there.

"I always win."

My expectations for him seems to be at its lowest at all times. So right now I'm looking forward to him talking his shit and leaving me like a dead piece of meat on the bathroom floor.

I feel the werewolf stage fucking making its way up. Vomit. I couldn't count how many times I'd had this experience. Millions, if possible.

I despised it every single time. And could never get used to it. It always seemed to come in different forms, better or worse.

Instead of him leaving, he comes down lower from his crouch. Sitting his body on the floor and resting it back on the cabinet of the sink beside me. His knees are hunched up and elbows are resting on his legs.

I basically teleport in front of the toilet bowl and empty my soul.

The whole time his attention is on me. Like his goal is to make me feel shame from his full attention set on my occupation.

The moment I can pause finally comes and I choose to speak while I can, "Yep...there it's goes-" He mocks my torture with a teasing sound and pulls out his phone.

I don't understand the point of sitting here beside me if he isn't helping me. Not even trying to comfort me mentally. But in a way, there's a feeling of ease within. Just...having him here.

"Why are you still here, De-"

"I want to see you suffer. I'm wrong?" He says so casually.

My head lifts from the toilet and I glare him down. Trying to make my eyes pierce through his pupils and enter his soul.

One day, some day, I have to fully affect him. Just not now, though. I recollect that I'm a pile of shit who's far from sober. Far from control.

"No..."

"What? Argue the fuck back, K. Don't be weak now..." He lets out a quick laugh. Cutting it off sharply. The sound of it hits my weak ears, hurting them somehow.