a perfect contradiction • lrh

chapter forty-two

Toxic relationship warning ⚠️

She did what was asked of her. She wore the clothes he recommended. Ate the food he made. Made music like the little singer she was. Trapped like a hamster in a wheel. Spinning round and round like a stuck vinyl.

She rose after the sun and slept well after the moon had faded in the city-smogged sky.

She often laid staring at her ceiling. In times gone by, her mind would race and inflict crushing panic. Now, she lay still, silently still, as nothing, absolutely nothing went through her mind. Her heart didn't twinge, her lungs didn't heave, her mind didn't ponder. She remained motionless.

The building could collapse, she wouldn't move. Her room could be a blaze, she wouldn't feel it. A meteorite could explode into the earth and she wouldn't flinch. A switch had been turned off. Something had been buried so deep down inside she couldn't reach for it even if she tried.

She stopped dreaming of what to paint or create. Instead of resisting the cheesy pop melodies and lyrics that normally made her toes curl and stomach muscles clench, she accepted.

When they dressed her like a Barbie doll, she didn't object, she lifted her limbs as they sprayed her with tan, as they plucked and prepared her skin for photoshoot after photoshoot.

Her clothes that used to fit, hung loose. But she hadn't wanted to wear them anyway, clothes that had compliments sewn into the fabric, memories etched into the material, clothes that had a scent that even bleach couldn't cover (she knew as she had tried, scrubbed and soaked each item in neat bleach, until her fingers were raw.) She tried so desperately to rid his existence from her own.

She had thrown out every reminder of him. Her locket was first. Ripped from her neck the night he ended things. Thrown into the trash so casually like he had binned her. Because she was nothing more than a piece of trash.

She needed to feel again. She needed a rush of something otherwise she would implode. Like a caged monster or a wolf backed in a corner. She needed a way out, a release because if she didn't she would do something she would probably regret.

As she sat crossed legged in a chair by the window. She listened in to Nate's conversations, plans of a night out. She hated that sort of scene, well, the old Eleanor did. Maybe this is what she needed. To feel alive again.

Placing her notebook down gently, she walked towards Nate. Ridding him of the guitar that perched in his lap, she took its place. Her legs crossed at the ankles as she settled across his thighs. His staff took that as a sign to scatter.

Nate's hands snaked around her waist, his long fingers intertwining as he pressed her further. His lips settled on the skin where her neck met her collarbone. He nipped at it until he left his mark on her. His breath was hot against her skin and his trousers tighter.

"To what do I owe this pleasure?" He raised his brow and looked up into her eyes.

"Well, I was thinking..." She began as she traced his sharp jawline with her finger.

"I'd love to join you tonight?" Her confidence cracked slightly. He smirked back at her.

"You, my sweet, want to go out clubbing?" His tone made her question herself. What had she been thinking?

"Your confidence is remarkable," he hummed as he planted kisses along her jaw. "my love you need your rest," he nuzzled his nose against her cheek.

"Won't it be good to connect with people?" She tried again, desperate for a night to let her hair down. "So many questions," he chuckled. She sighed defeated. Her mind numbed as she let him remove her clothes and the conversation died.