I wake up abruptly. The thin clothing on my body sticks to me. My skin is soft, my bones are fragile, and my hair is scattered about my pillow.
I look behind my bruised shoulder to see the man sleeping beside me, unmoved by my awakening.
I remember the way his hands gripped around me, and slammed me against the wall. The way he said he loved me: enough to give me a priceless ring to seal our love. Yet his hands are still capable of tearing me apart, literally. Many are those who are tortured by whom they love, for they will never forget what it feels like to undergo such pain and exhaustion.
I glance at the ocean through the small window across from me. It isn't far away at all, maybe a ten minute walk at most. But I'm thrilled to touch the salty water and feel the sweet sugary sand between my toes.
The sky is a dull blue, my favorite color.
I sneak on one of his clean shirts and one of my own pairs of shorts and open the door to be greeted by the sound of the waves in the distance.
I walk barefoot; the cool breeze blows my dark hair. My heart flutters with serenity.
Once I reach the beach, I begin to search for a place to sit, so I can write or ponder.
My eyes come across a man, about my age already sitting out on the shore.
He's talking to himself, loudly. I begin to make the short trek towards him, close enough to hear what he's saying.
"She lives . . . over there," he whispers to himself, gazing at the ocean.
"Hello there! Beautiful morning isn't it?" I ask him, loud enough for him to hear.
He turns around quickly, my presence startling him.
"You cannot sit here," he says to me.
His eyes are an unnatural shade of blue, but it matches the ocean.
I step back, surprised at such a quick rejection.
"My mistake, then," I say, slightly agitated. I slowly make my way away from the man.
He turns back to the ocean, speaking again, either to himself or me.
"I'm still waiting for her," he whispered.
I begin to walk away, confused, but I turn around after a moment to examine him.
The man seems so mysterious. He reminds me of the wind and fog that engulf the waves of the ocean, currently.
"Yes, but what are you talking about?" I ask, my curiosity overcoming me. I turn back around and stare at his unusually smooth face.
"Yes, but why are you still here?"
I begin to reply with a nasty retort but quickly re-evaluate the decision.
His voice is laced with unusual anger. The type of anger one may feel when they are thirsty for blood.
I turn quickly, walking faster than I did before and wrap my arms around myself. My hair hair blows every which way as my body shakes with alarm.
"Wait! How rude of me, I am terribly sorry. I didn't mean to be so bitter. Please come back," he cries to me, apologetically.
I turn once more abruptly, slightly annoyed of his change in mood.
"Why should I?"
"I don't want you to leave me like she did."
We stare into each other's souls. His ocean eyes are staring into my stormy ones. His dark shirt clings to his strong arms and his muscular chest. His hair is in a tussle of dark chocolate curls.
He's beautiful.
"I don't understand you, sir. I'm not sure what you need or want, but I think it's best if I be on my way hom-"
"No! You don't have to understand me. Just come back, I can tell you all you want to know if you wish! Just please don't go."
At this point, he's standing tall at almost six feet. His breath is frantic and uneven. He seems troubled. Yet, dark blue veins appear in his neck, indicating frustration or anger.
Confused and afraid, I turn and decide not to speak another word to the man. I move briskly, dodging sea shells that peek from the sand.
"Please!"
I hear quick steps, reaching closer to me.
I begin to run. I kick tuffs of sand behind me as my legs fly slowly through the air. My hair bounces with each step.
He quickly grabs my waist and thrusts me violently to his chest.
"I don't want you to leave me like she did."
My arms attempt to thrash around his locked ones.
"Please let me go! Someone help!"
My life flashed before my eyes. A full stream of grey and black moments that should've been long forgotten.
"Shhhh, it's okay, I love you now," the man says. His breath feels soft and warm against my ear.
His hand creeps towards my mouth and covers it so I cannot speak. His hands are still locked over mine, preventing me from any movement.
"I love you now."
But I'm not sure if those words come out of his mouth, because the wretched hand that is held tightly over my mouth has not only taken my freedom, but my heartbeat.
