BITTERLY LUSCIOUS

CHAPTER 9

CHAPTER 9

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Logan's Point of View:

    "How laughably-tragic, Black, laughably-tragic," I muttered, finding it funny that I had ended up in the same position and predicament I had four years ago. In a twisted way, it was admittedly amusing to see something you had painstakingly built for years crumble without warning and burn to dust before your very eyes in seconds.

With yet another inward growl of anger and frustration, I moved away from the stone slabbed wall of the shower and stepped under the heavy stream of water, allowing it to rain down on me. The goal; accomplish what several hours of sex and exercise could not wash away all thoughts and memories from a specific time in my past. But just as the sex and exercise, the water, at this point ice cold, failed. By all accounts, my distasteful weakness and everything of that detestable part of my life should be no more.

So why now? Why, after no desire to revisit or indulge in the past? A past cloaked in shame and weakness, where all sense of pride, self-respect, dignity, and common sense, were abandoned for the most destructive and ephemeral emotion of them all__ love. Had it come back to haunt me? Laughable, really laughable.

Even more so__ I did it twice.

The first time was understandable, for even though I was in my early twenties -twenty-one-I lacked the knowledge of matters of the heart. I believed myself to be loved and in love and wanted to keep that love regardless of the cost. However, I later discovered that the love I had worked so hard to keep was an illusion of my making—a sinister pity trap of my making. As a result, I almost lost everything important to me. As for the second time, I still have no excuse for falling into the same trap twice, but yet and still, I did. And again, I almost lost all that was important to me and myself in the process.

As I had no desire for a third round, I walked away and made a promise never again to allow a human being to hold such power over me, and I foolishly believed that I had succeeded. I foolishly thought that his hold on me was no more and that he no longer had the power to haunt and destroy me.

Sadly, sometimes, beliefs were no more the truth than assumptions. I was wrong. Abysmally wrong. And the past week was an unwelcome reminder of just how much. His hold on me, even as twisted as it had become over the years, even if it sickened me to admit, was still as strong as it was on the first day we met. All this time, it was only hiding, patiently waiting to attack when least expected. And the attack was unexpected, so unexpected it pushed me back into the arms of the one hated habit I weakly took solace in years back when the need to purge my mind, heart, and soul of him became my mission and obsession. Sex. With little regard to its quality or satisfaction.

And while engaging in various forms of sexual acts could, for many, be a source of adventure, enjoyment__pleasure. This time, my encounters had ceased to be a source of either; they were torture; however, they worked in getting my mind back on track regardless of how dirty and disgusted I felt after each session. My general lack of control and restraint when it came to sex back then, as now, fills me with a shame that makes me sick to my stomach. Even so, there was no denying that falling into a mindless state of sexual oblivion brought release and comfort.