Consumed

Baby please

I sat on his bed, listening to the force of water, coming from the bathroom. This would be the first time I've been alone tonight with out him. It's 12 now, and I'm not at all tired. I'm in shock, I'm so scared.

Is that him, those people who danced around in the flames, stuck needles in their arms, and sniffed powder up their nose. Was that him? The people grinding and pretty much having sex on the floor. Or the dirty men feeling on girls in a corner. Was that him? No. It wasn't. The man I know would never feel on a women, the man I know would save a girl from being pinched. The man I know would touch me gentle, being scared to push to hard, or feel to rough. But I also knew the man that had a temper, Who would drink and smoke weed. I knew that my man had his ups and downs, but where there other things I didn't know about? Had he ever tried to touch a women inappropriately, or do those crazy drugs? I can't picture him ever doing anything like that.

My train of thought was broken by the shower being cut off. My head flicked to the bathroom door, my heart stated pounding. He stepped out in a towel, one fist clutched the two ends of the towel together, the other one was flicking his wet hair out of his face. He looked beautiful, but that didn't stop how I was feeling. I didn't move from my position on the bed. He grabbed his briefs and a pair of joggers and walked back to the bathroom not daring to say anything to me, not even looking my way.

When he came back out, with clothes on, he came to sit on the bed with me. My pulse quickened, and I took in a breath. I don't know why I felt this way towards him, but in the car, when everything registered, fear struck me.

His eyes softened. "Lux..." It came out like a whimper, like a question. He seen the fear written on my face, and I seen the pain, painted on his. I wanted to hold him, and comfort him, but my guard was up, and my hands wouldn't move like they usually do, they let my brain do the work and make the choices.. Not my heart.

"I'm sorry.. Baby I'm sorry." His voice was a pleading whisper. He reached for my face, but as soon as his fingertips reached me, I felt sick. Contact with any other skin right now felt hideous and gross, The four men are the cause of that. I wanted to cry, I was hurting him, but I didn't know how to fix it.

"I'm sorry Chaz, I just.. I can't." That stood for many things. I couldn't look him in the eyes, i couldn't touch him, I couldn't let him touch me, I couldn't understand why I felt afraid and I couldn't be here right now.

I got up off the bed and headed to the door, I needed air, cold air to stop me from crying and having a panic attack. I heard him get up from the bed too. He grabbed me by the elbow, I yanked away by instinct, I couldn't help it.

I looked at him again, his eyes soft. "Please don't go." He pleaded with me, I wish I knew what was going on in his head. I wish I had this super power, were I knew what was going on inside his beautiful mind, but i don't. I'm totally clueless and left to make false accusations.

"I'm sorry I can't... I can't be near you at the moment. I need to think, and try to absorb it all Chaz, it's a lot to take in." I'm not good with words, and it was hard to say what was on my mind without being rude, or misinterpreted.

I watched his eyes change from soft, to hard and cold in a flash of an eye. I knew what this meant. "Chaz, no.. Calm down. Babe... Babe please, you know I'm bad with words." I pleaded, trying to calm him down. My words didn't faze him, his breathing quickened and he started pacing. When we first started talking, he told me about his problems, and this was one of them. He's bipolar, well we think. He's never gone to the doctor to actually be diagnosed. He has a short temper and his moods change miraculously.

"No! Fuck. I always have to fuck shit up! I'm sorry! I'm sorry Lux! I tried fucking hiding you from this shit, I fucking tried!" He took two long strides to be faced with me, I stepped back, his tall frame blocking me from the light. I wasn't scared, he would never physically hurt me, and he's never mentally abused me either. I'm worried, worried that he'll lose it, or blame himself. It's not his fault, I wish I could tell him that, but I couldn't find the words. His face was shielding mine, and he was looking down at me with dark, hard eyes. Nothing was soft about him at this point.