❝ They say, who loves first, falls hardest, but what if this story is she fell first, he fell harder. ❞
Truths hurt, lies are a blasphemy in a relationship. But have you ever felt it? When everything feels like they're infinitely stretching your sou...
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The last two months were super hectic, guys. I had to shift to a new city for my college. Start my collage. Socialise, and a heck lot of other stuff along with assignments ☠️. I'm really happy that I can finally return and write again. Stay tuned because I'll try my best to publish spontaneously.
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My palm wraps around her throat, pulling her away. Two words. Four syllables. "Everyone out." My own voice, harsh and commanding, feels foreign to me.
Anger boils inside me, a monster breathing within, guilt gnawing at my rotten flesh. It snarls and wraps its punishing claws around her pale throat, pulse visible in her neck. Her spine steels, and I see the same grey reflection in her eyes. Without permission, much like her, my lips capture hers.
I was used, and even if hell freezes over, I won't let it end without retaliating. My tongue tries to part her lips, discolored by the kiss. She stands still, showing no emotion except for the clenching and unclenching of her fists.
A frustrated growl escapes my throat, and she gasps. I seize the chance to dive in. Our tongues battle for dominance, her hands, which were by her sides, rake up my scalp, tugging at my hair. Emotions flood my body as my hands tighten around her neck, a sensation both refreshing and repressing.
Elijah.
My eyes snap open, reality and gravity crashing over me. My hands tremble, as if seared by her skin. My body shakes with horror, as if the sky has turned grey and I’m standing under a thunderstorm. I push her away and stand. The class is really empty, as if everyone heard something in my voice that I didn’t.
"Never," I say to her, not meeting her eyes. When I push her away, her hands try to replace the monster’s claws on my shoulder, and I know for sure I will see something I can’t walk away from. The first ray of sunlight when the grey clouds dissipate. The red blossoming glow in the sky, like a hibiscus, before the moon returns to its place in the ocean's cradle. "Never do this to me again," this time it's my turn to steel my spine, my voice like molten iron.
"Come on, Elijah! Let's get started," Matt exclaims, snapping me out of my daze. His right eyebrow shot up, like asking me what was wrong with me. Except being my frequent sparring partner, Matt was also like a therapist for me. More like his fist was. I shake my head and take a deep breath, clearing any remnants of what happened today. "Yeah, right, I'm ready," I say, slipping into my fighting stance. My left fist in front of my right, like my feets.
We begin circling each other, both sizing the other up. Matt, being the more experienced of the two of us, waits for me to make the first move. I throw a quick jab, which he blocks with ease. He retaliates with a quick counter punch, but I dodge it and come in with an uppercut, which lands on his chin. He stumbles back a bit, feeling the impact, but regains his balance.
