Glass (ON HOLD)

Chapter Two

Today is out second day on the island. It's warm out here, not hot, like you expect an island to be. I wish it was warmer. This is not good tanning weather. Brent's not awake right now, and I don't want to do anything without him, so I wait. I walk to the kitchen, and listen to the sound of my feet pitter-pattering across the cold, tile floor. The cabinets were pre stocked with food. I haven't cooked anything for myself, not ever. My grandmother and Brent have always cooked for me. Practice makes perfect, so I grab the carton of eggs and the butter out of the fridge, and the bread of the counter. I get a pan out of the cabinet under the sink. I put it on the stove and light it. I crack the egg into the pan. It starts to sizzle. It smells delicious. I put the bread in the toaster. I flip the egg, and I hear footsteps. Brent walks up behind me and puts his hands on my waist. I spin around to face him, and smile. He smiles back, and leans in to kiss me. I lean into him, but I don't kiss him. I push my head into his shoulder and sob. He strokes my hair. He acts like he understands. "What is it?" I shake my head, and continue sobbing. "Christina! What's wrong?" I pull away to look at him. I'm wearing a robe considering all that happened last night. I pull up my sleeves to show fresh cuts. "I'm so sorry." I manage to whisper. He looks up at me with pity, anger, and understanding, all in one. "It's my fault." I look at him and shake my head fast. "No, Brent, no! Its not your fault at all. I love you and nothing can change that. It's not your fault." He looks at me in anger. "Then why?" I look at him with a pained expression. "I honestly don't know. I thought about it after my dad went to prison. It's just that I finally for my dad back, and then he disappeared. And I just want him back, at least I think I do."

It's been a few hours since it told Brent. I wanted to talk to him, but I didn't know how. He won't talk to me and he hasn't come out of our room. I sit down at the kitchen table. I want to talk to him, to tell him that I didn't want to hurt him. I hear his footsteps, but I don't turn around. "Did you come in here to tell me that you're going to leave again?" I still don't turn around. I don't know if I can face him. It's just to unbearable. It takes all that have to stay still. To not bury my head in his chest, and sob. It took all strength to say what I did. He still hasn't replied, so I turn around. He walks over to where I'm standing. His fingers graze my chin, and his kiss almost knocks me down. I grab a fistful of his shirt, and kiss him back just as eagerly. He loves me, and I love him. He picks me up so that he is cradling me. Our lips never become detached from each other. His tongue doesn't have to ask for entrance. Our tongues dance in sync. Our love is to strong to destroy. We are joined together, and nothing will rip us apart. His hands move to my waist as he pushes my up against the wall. I didn't notice until now that he has been drinking. I was to caught up to notice the alcohol on his tongue. I pretend that I don't notice it. My legs wrap around his waist. We walk over to the bed. He lays me down gently, but our lips still connected. He pulls away, but only for a fraction of a second. "I love you, Christina. If it takes sex for you to get that in your head, then I'll give it to you. Just promise me that you won't do this again." I nod and push my lips back to his. "No, Christina. You have to promise." I sigh a quick sigh, and roll my eyes. "I promise." He nods and kisses me gently. Then more eagerly, and I pull his shirt off. He knows that I'm begging for more.

That night, I can barely sleep. I enjoyed myself to much. When I do manage to fall asleep, I dream. No, I have nightmares. It's been happening a lot lately. Ever since my dad left actually. I wake up screaming. Brent wraps his arm around me, and hushes me to sleep. Once he is in his deep slumber again, I walk to the kitchen. I open the medicine cabinet and grab the bottle of pain killers. I down four in one gulp of water. I pour six more into my hand. I down those in two gulps of water. I promised Brent that I would stop cutting, but he never said anything about my pill addiction.

"I'm sorry, Brent, and I love you. I really do."