Altogether unusual

The pit of hell

'We are each our own devil, and we make this world our hell.'

Oscar Wilde

I enter back into the house, stripped of everything human. I want to crawl into a dark corner and just never speak to anyone for my entire life. As soon as I come in, I sense that the atmosphere has changed in the living room. The sound had been lowered on the porn movie and there is only David in the room. He looks at me smiling.

"Come here, darling!" I walk towards him and take the hand he has extended. I try to focus on what happens because it seems to me I don't belong to this reality anymore. "Are you ok?"

"Yes, I am. Why do you ask?" As you may easily imagine, I am afraid he had heard me and Jonathan fighting. That is the last thing I want to talk about. Or explain.

"I thought you were not feeling well and that you went outside to have some air." I honestly try not to punch him. I cannot be sure how much time I was outside, but if he believed I didn't feel good, why didn't he check up on me? Anyway, I'm tired and I want to go home. I drank too much and I smoked too much pot. I feel all dizzy. And not only in my body, but in my head too. Like, not only have I abused my body in a cruel and not demanded way, but I have literally pulled out the plug on my soul. My brain lacks its usual environment. My entire being has been unjonathanized. I feel sick, I feel poor. I am alone. I am finally all alone. And I... I am done. Of course, I cannot tell David that. And, worst of all, I don't get to tell him I want to go home. He motions me to sit near him, which I do, half-hearted.

Apparently, he has other plans, since he starts kissing me deeply. Quite obvious, I must say. And quite inappropriate too. It has no effect on me. I kiss him back, trying to tone down the "passion". I don't want to hurt him, but I am not in the mood to make out. However, he doesn't catch my drift and continues to shove his tongue down my throat. Literally. His hands are all over my body. I wish I could respond to his affection. I wish I could feel something. Anything would do. But I can only grieve over Jonathan. The rest is empty somehow. Has lost all meaning. My hands on his chest, I push him away slowly. I can see his eyes widen and the realization downing on him.

"You should relax, darling! We are alone. I asked the guys to let us have some room for ourselves." It's good to know he actually was aware of my feeling awkward with everybody there, all the time. It's a totally different conversation the one where I would ask: "Why the fuck did you make me be around them, if you knew?" But I keep that to myself. I sense it is not the time. And it's not like I was forced into doing it either. I just passively accepted it. Not the brightest pencil in the box, am I?

"David, I am very tired. Tomorrow will be crucial. And the next 2 days after that." I say to him, with a little forced smile, in an attempt to sweeten the rejection.

"You want to tell me that you will be leaving for three days, and you do not intend to provide me with some buffer for the pain of not seeing you this entire time?" He says all this in his cute voice. Smiling like a little boy caught stealing candies. He is adorable. I, on the other hand, I am horrible. Someone should raise awareness: KEEP AWAY! MAD PERSON WALKING IN LONDON!

"I am not in the mood tonight, David. I don't feel good."

"I have a cabby. Let's smoke that and you'll be better. Loosen up a bit." He takes out a small box from one of his pockets and puts it on the table.

"What is that?"

He starts shrieking, startling me. He has a very quiet, low voice, usually. I really like that about him, a sort of a whispered way of talking. Never too aggressive on the listener. But just now, he made a high, forced-out sound, like a very poor faked laughter. "How can you not know what a cabby is? This, darling, has pot and a line of coke in it. Fast railway to heaven."