Sparks Fly

I Was Once His

I Was Once His

Sparks Fly: Chapter 8

MaineLove

The month had been harsh and cruel, consisting of overcoming insanity and frequent heart attacks. Everything from the color blue to a distance car horn reminded me of him, causing scorching fire to pulse rapidly through my veins. The month was spend in an unsuccessful attempt to box myself away within a heavy steel chamber bolted to a tight close and buried inside the hazy depths of my brain, allowing nothing in and nothing out. However it has become unfeasible, especially since every inch of the savage world surrounding me had my heart plummeting from my chest. The odds were simply against me. The days spent swallowing myself up had dug deeper gashes within me. Time only aiding in making them more prominent and noticeable. Puncturing deeper until they struck bone and maybe even further, severing me into thin unavailing slices. I continued to wither, wilting until nothing remained but a pile of limp flesh. Worthless and used.  

Zayn.

He had damaged me. And I refused to believe any good had been attained from our crash and burned relationship, set on a test course and ending in utter destruction. The violent tyrant, whom I was even now madly infatuated with, had robbed me of my rationality and stability. Taken away any contentment and replaced it with a traumatic ache, compelling me to become a feeble and disarranged jumble. Taken away any capability to deliberate on the circumstances he had barbarically forced me into.  Even at the thought my chest would heave in the inability to surpass a proper breath, my heart remained situated within my throat ready to lurch at any given moment. And every thought was laced tight with a string of desperation, need, and longing. The declaration of our love for one another in the form of three small words proved how far the fire had burned. The flames licked at my throat, searing my skin and marking the flesh.

Every lustful kiss, every skin-to-skin contact, and every mingling breath no matter how deliberate had been electric traveling tentatively up my spine, however it had never been enough. Never adequate; our fervor was a temporary satisfaction leaving us hungry and ravenous for more. His actions had blocked my windpipe, leaving me trapped within myself. It had been a shame how numbness was never sufficient enough to wipe the agony even for a short-lived moment. I had felt everything, every last cut and scrape I had endured it all. The dangerously strong throb of my heart against my temple, filling my ears with a traumatizing beat. The ache of my clenched finger as my nails dug deep into the week skin of my palms, or my icy knuckles becoming white with anger. My body was not able to shake the tremor growing, enlarging until I was completely submerged. 

I had been rash enough to throw three of the most difficult words around at him, hoping it would ignite the same burning passion it had within me. Expecting that he felt the same ecstasy that had coated each and every vein within me, fueling the blazing desire that lit my body on heated flames in his presence. However I had been terribly mistaken. 

Our relationship remained as fresh pile within my mind. A memorabilia of photos some new some old. Some shriveling with age and pain others grazed with bright colors and crisp edges, each decorated with vivid smiles and the discovery of unknown territory. The flickering fingers, exploring new ground until it was familiar under our touch, each crevice, and every cranny it all belong to each other. Every curve and every twist existent in me had once been his. I was once his.

XOXO

My fingers reached up shakily, curving around the cold metal of my locker. My muscles had adopted a new routine of powerlessness, becoming week and faulty with every small movement. It caused me to spend large amounts of time numb and fixated in one position, unable to move on. I had been breathing the same grimy air of loneliness and betrayal, my lungs layered in despair. Every last brain cell was determined to ponder on Zayn, driving me further under my misery and willing me to naturally become unsound of my mind.

It was as if my ears only compelled to sounds that were in some deranged way related to Zayn, knowing that these were the sounds I was dying to hear again. His long lazy sighs, the whispering of my name from his perfect mouth, the ravishing laugh sending sparks through every limb in my now dull body. The familiar tap of his shoes and the shuffling noise that I had grown all to use to.

They were all the sounds I was currently hearing.

My head snapped back in daze as my eyes caught him, as if on queue Zayn’s neck brusquely turned up. My breath hitched and chest heaved. No voices filled the air and no sound could be heard. My heart thrashed against my ribcage, almost threatening to break the silence that hung thick in the air. My senses felt alive, almost as if woken up after a long hardy rest. Every surrounding object present within the tense environment held a new distorted edge. From the wilting plants in the corner of the hallway to Zayn’s tired hand holding his backpack. Everything was blinding and confusing.

“Victoria, how are you?” 

Whispered to him in the most inaudible and damaged voice I could muster was, “Fine.” I could feel my brain shutdown after the overload of blistering thoughts processing at a mile a minute. I swallowed hard against the large lump within my throat, my knuckles clenched until I was certain they had turned white.

“Can I, um, talk to you?”

A shudder arouse through the familiar warmth of his brawny voice, coated to perfection with his husky Bradford accent. “Talk?” He pulled the sleeve of my jacket, tugging me candidly into the near supply closet. “Zayn..”

Just as the door closed he lurched for me pressing me tightly against the cold door as his lips attached to mine, moving with perfect synchronization. The fervor in our kiss was harsh and frantic in anticipation, bustling with longing and need. The cloying strokes of our lips conveying the destructive time we had spend apart, silently explaining all convictions and misunderstandings that had ruptured us into futile souls.

I was being pushed roughly to the wall, my hands high above his head and Zayn’s fingers like shackles, pinning them there. A low moan left my lips and Zayn’s toxic breath hit my tongue. My throat was on fire, inhaling his unforgiving cologne. Soon his lips latched to my jaw, leaving a trail of sweet kisses. He sucked the skin of my collarbone most likely leaving several prominent marks, however I was unable to argue. My mind blocking all protests and locking in confides of a steel chamber, a volt in which exists no proper judgment. Erasing them all slowly as his lips continued to brush against my skin. From the crock of my neck I heard a muffled string of words.

“I want nothing serious, no strings, no feelings. Just you.”