Short Stories

Short Story 2 | Stagnant

Messy sheets were shoved to the foot of the bed. Pillows were tucked behind the headboard as a candle flickered on the nightstand, casting a gentle glow throughout the room. Wet wax rolled down the edge of the table, making little stalactites with bulbous tips, like little white droplets frozen in time. Unmoving. Stagnant.

Her head rested on my thighs, her long, golden hair spilling over my legs. She was smiling contentedly as I ran my fingers through her hair, gently combing through the knots that had formed the past few hours. Her bare breasts were bruised and tender from our lovemaking, as were the insides of her thighs. Purple had always been her color.

"I love you," she whispered into the quiet air, gently taking my hand from her head and to her lips, where she kissed each knuckle tenderly. Her lips were a delicate shade of pink, like the petals of a rose, and just as soft and velvety. Unable to help myself, I leaned down and pressed my lips to hers, and she smiled into the kiss, grabbing my cheeks and brushing her thumb just under my eye. A tear smudged across my cheekbone.

I pulled back, pressing my palm to my eyes and rubbing the thin skin. "I love you too, my angel. More than you could ever imagine."

Her smile disappeared, replaced with a worried furrow in her brow. My love gently grabbed a lock of my long, dark hair, tucking it behind my ear. Her breath paused for a moment as she looked up at my face. I watched her eyes trace the curve of my jaw, the lines of my nose and cheeks, and the shape of my eyes.

The air hung heavily over us. The silence was loud.

"I wish we had more time," she whispered, her eyes turning red and watery. My heart stuttered as I carefully pressed my thumb into the crease between her brows, smoothing the skin under my fingers, tenderly molding her expression.

"Me too, my angel. But it is not safe," I muttered. "If we are caught, the consequences will be grave. It could cost you your life."

"But of what value is my life without you in it?"

I did not reply, instead letting the silence of the room swallow our conversation. The sun was beginning to peek under the window curtain, and the bed cast a long shadow across the room.

The silk sheets shifted like waves under her as she adjusted above them, moving our little world with the contours of her naked figure. She had a body like a goddess: slim and delicate, small-breasted with long, golden hair that cascaded down to her waist. Her face was like that of an angel. Soft yet defined, with plump lips and long, curved eyelashes that brushed her pinkened cheeks when her eyes closed.

"Come with me."

I looked down at her sorrowfully, kissing the tip of her nose and breathing against her face: "you know I cannot."

She clutched my hand in both of hers, squeezing it and pressing it in the space between her breasts. I felt her heart thrum quickly under my fingers. Her eyes were desperate. "Why not? You could, you could come with us. Nobody would know."

I carefully lifted her head from my lap, laying it down on the mattress before shifting so I was lying next to her, pressing our foreheads together. Her breath fanned my lips, and I let them brush hers. Our feet tangled in the sheets at the foot of the bed, the soles of mine brushing her toes. "My love, it is not that simple."

She stilled against me. "You know I do not love him."

I kissed her. "I know."

"I love you."

"I know."

She dragged her hand up the smoothness of my thigh, up my hip and torso, and cupped my cheek. Her touch was feather-light, almost as if she were afraid to feel the curve of my body, the velvet of my skin. As if she was scared I wasn't real. I covered her hand on my cheek with my own, weaving our fingers together. She took a shuddering breath. "I wish..."

There was a still pause, and the words died in her throat.

"Please don't leave me, Caroline."

The words she uttered were little more than a breath, sounding as vulnerable as an infant and as broken as a caged bird's song, spoken as she pressed her other hand over the swell of my breast, over my beating heart. Her lips puckered and quivered.

I did not reply, only gathering her in my arms as she began to sob.

The door of the bedroom creaked open.