Traces Of The Past - (Shawmila, The Story) Vol. III

May.25.23/Where Did the Fun Go?

~Happy C,XOXO weekend y'all 💙🍭~

(WARNING: +18)

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Camila's POV

May 25, 2023

A flash of light bounces directly off the wood of the nightstand in the corner, also hitting the small diamonds of a forgotten bracelet that reflect a rainbow of colors over the walls to the ceiling. I just concentrate on that so as not to let my thoughts take over, imagining myself as a diamond, waiting for the light to show all the angles that make me me me, with all the different shades of the chromatic circle. There is some joy, but also some sadness... and I'm struggling to keep the brightest colors alive.

I don't know if I can keep doing this....

I close my eyes tightly so I don't cry another round of tears since I left him behind to come with my friends, telling him I'd see him tonight. The thing is... I'm actually considering not going back to him at all, not if the fucking pain is still there after everything we said and did.

I've already packed my bags... Wouldn't it be better to take a plane home?

The sick part of me wants to stay to see if we fix this... somehow.

Why don't you give up, Camila? Why are you dragging this out too long?

I said I don't know. I don't know what's wrong with me. I'm waiting for a miracle, maybe.

I throw my papers and pen across the small bedroom, making a mess, but not as big a mess as the one I put back on my shoulders. All the letters that I wish were happy but none of them are, lie on the floor, or on the bed, or under my chair, screaming at me to stop this shit once and for all.

I'm holding on to something that isn't there anymore, that isn't the same as it used to be... and I... kind of want more of it, not caring at all, because at least I feel alive and not near death under the brick pit that fell on me when he left me the first time.

I am very aware that I am pushing myself to find more of that, so that I can be sure to say that we will be happy together at the end of this hard stage we are going through right now. But is it just a stage, isn't it our death sentence that I'm signing right now? I still want to figure it out as the psychotic living rent-free in my mind and taking the burden from time to time.

Why am I like this, why are we like this? I don't get it. We're going in circles here. I swear to God we need help before this gets ugly, if it isn't already.

My tears no longer try to come out when I blink; I sigh and kneel down to pick up all my crumpled sheets. My friends are outside, so they won't know about my crisis unless I tell them about it, which I'm not going to do, and I'm using my last bit of energy today to get ready for a date he's invited me on.

Are we even going to talk about what happened this morning? Or are we just going to blow it off and fuck? Whatever, you know? Actually, that's what I'm going to do, because I can't take any more bullshit tonight.

I'm in my twenties, I'm sexy, I'm successful, I have nothing to cry about. Plus he claimed he loves me.

Can you live with that, Camila? Please!

Tight clothes, no bra, a little makeup, a spritz of perfume, low heels, leather jacket, my purse and I'm ready to go play my game. Shawn has no choice but to ogle me once he's in front of me, helping me out of the car to his building, and I have to say he looks so hot too that it's just more motivation to do whatever the fuck I want.

- Should we...? - He starts to say, pointing towards the kitchen where I don't have time to look because I get straight to the point and cling to his neck to get him to come closer.

All that pent-up rage and paranoia attacks my system as I push him against some wall, kissing him like a wild animal, and then, all my bad thoughts disappear for an instant, magically. Why can't this be good forever?

My jacket falls to the floor, my skin bristles under his soft and delicate touch, his calloused fingers dancing over me turns me on, so I move one step further to undress myself garment by garment, mesmerized by his honey eyes so bright that they don't look away from me even once.

- God damn it... - His voice is so clear in the middle of the silence that I tremble as he pulls me to him, resting my back against his chest, speaking breathlessly into my ear. - I'm so sorry about this morning, beautiful.

- Yeah... it doesn't matter anymore. - I say, closing my eyes as he slowly touches my hot body.

Fuck the talk, I've come up with a plan.

I direct his hand right where I need him to be and it's like sparks fly out of me, exploding all around us as I let him invade me to my core with his long fingers. The man takes his time satisfying me, but as the good partner I am, I reciprocate at least on the same ground, because the love part is still lost in the unknown.

I take all I can from him, feeling powerful once again as I watch him lose his mind under my attentions, my wrists and tongue doing all the work, making him suffer to his end only for him to take revenge, pushing me hard against the wall a little later.

Yes, this is what I wanted, I think excitedly, losing myself in the sensation of connecting with someone again, feeling alive and appreciated as he carefully thrusts into me as I wrap my legs around his hips.

When we finish this time, all the tension in my body is released and I allow myself to enjoy this brief moment of peace as if I deserve it. But... soon enough, the guilt returns and makes me hate myself and hate him too because we are clearly dysfunctional... and I don't know what we are going to do about it.

So I decide to leave again once we are clean and have dinner, swearing to him that everything is fine but I need some space, which is true. The confusion in his eyes would match my own if I were able to reflect in his, but everything is blurry from the numbing pain that is slowly resurfacing to ruin my life.

What to do now, how am I going to go through with this? There is no simple answer. My biggest fear is losing him, and it's shitty to think that might happen again...