Opus Dei

Eight

Enjooyy :)

My being is so irrevocably altered that I can no longer feel myself. My fingerprints, they have been brutally cut off, and in their place are burn marks, marks that have infected and spread throughout my body, eating my organs and polluting my blood. I can see the disgusting person that I have become, from the outside, like a pathetic ghost that watches over its former body, craving the life that it used to had, the life that used to run through its veins which has now become a distant memory.

I, too, wish that the night that took myself away from me never occurred. And just when I think I can move on and gradually come back to life I feel him brutally enter me all over again, and I wake up sweating, yelling, wishing I could die already.

And every time I do so, he is right there. I wish I could talk, tell him that I blamed him for all this, tell him that I could not see that the reason why this happened to me was because I am doomed, not because of him. He speaks to me, but I don't register. He holds me, and when he does, it's the only time I can sleep, blissfully, safely.

Kendall too cries, and sometimes she wipes my cheeks so I know that she cries because she sees me cry. Every time I see her I thank the heavens that she is safe, that she has the power to get up, dust herself up and move on so quickly. I wish I was like that. Out of the two of us, she has always been the stronger one, the one who could fight anybody, anywhere, anytime in order to ensure her well-being, as well as my own. I desperately want to ask her what happened to me, how I got here, where am I, why is Vincent kissing my palms when he thinks no one is watching. I open my mouth, trying to take these questions out of my mind, to block them from haunting me, but no sound comes out of my mouth.

The messed-up make-up around her eyes clearly shows that she craves sleep, and that she has been crying a lot. Just when I start cursing myself out for not being able to tell her that I am going to be fine as long as he holds me while I sleep, Vincent enters the room. The whole energy shifts towards him, he owns every dust particle as he walks towards Kendall and tells her something in an authoritatively manner. She doesn't seem pleased but gets up from the cushion placed next to my bed, kisses my forehead tenderly and walks out.

I shift my weight, turning on my left side and hugging my knees close to my chest. Even though I feel safe around him, I feel naked, and I feel that he can see just how miserable I am, I know for a fact that he can see every ounce of dirt that man threw over me.

I know he approaches me without watching, and I shiver when I feel his weight on the bed, right next to my shaking knees. My head spins and turns, just like every other time he did this, I don't know what to think, how to think clearly on this issue.

In a fluid motion I am a ball in his lap, my face in his neck. His woodsy scent fills my nostrils and goose-bumps erupt all over my body. My emotions are so conflicted. I feel so safe, yet it's the type of safe that one feels before they skydive, knowing that they have a parachute on their back. I feel adrenaline, confusion. I feel protected yet overwhelmed. I am a wreck, no longer in control. It's like I'm paralyzed, desperately needing to run, yet having to give up again and again because I fail miserably. I can't get a hold of myself, of my emotions, no matter how hard I try. No matter how hard and deliciously welcoming his chest feels against my soft, tear-stained cheek.

He tenses suddenly, and I realize it's because I'm crying. Again. Such a pathetic piece of shit. Vincent wraps his arms around me and rocks me gently. His chin is on the top of my head and, judging by the way his torso hums he is shushing me soothingly. I am in a daze, unable to control myself, so hurt and so gracefully being picked up by him with every second that goes by.