Libertine [on hold]

Chapter 3 - Remember when

                Let me tell you about another time in my life. A time when I was not just Opal, but instead Opal Meyers, a girl with a pretty unique first name and a boring last name. I was blended.

                I was also seventeen, and in love for the first time in my life.

                His name was Christian. He was older than me, five years almost. He was the definition of handsome – he looked All American hot with his sandy brown hair, his big blue eyes and strong, muscular build. He was always making me laugh, making me happy. I was completely, irrevocably in love.

                Christian and I were sitting in the back of his pick up and his hands were travelling slowly up my arms, tickling me gently. I was smiling widely. With him, I felt like there was nothing wrong with me. Like I was whole, and my heart was beating normally for once in my life. I felt like a real person, not a medical experiment, a plaything of my parents’.

                “I love you.” The words slipped out of my mouth so easily, and I realized I’d been waiting days, if not weeks, to finally say them. It was still so fresh, so raw – our relationship was just starting and we hadn’t taken it farther than second base. But I needed to say it.

                His hands ventured up to my head, cupping my face. He looked me in the eyes and kissed me softly on the mouth as I moaned. “Good,” he whispered against my lips. I shivered.

                He was twisting strands of my hair around his fingers now, playfully whispering in my ear what he wanted to do to me. I felt goosebumps rising on my skin as I giggled like a stupid girl.

                Which, inevitably, you will realize I was.

                You see, as Christian was stroking me so softly, I had no idea his touches would soon turn lethal. No premonition of what was to come only months from now.

                We were blissfully happy in that moment – well, at least I was. I let him kiss me, touch me and take me, right there in that car. It was my first time and it hurt like hell. I gritted my teeth and suffered through, moaning at the times I thought to be right and letting him come inside me, even though he wasn’t wearing a condom, and I was definitely not protected.

                All in the name of love.

                Love that turned sour sooner than it did sweet.

A month later

                “Mom, I wanted to speak to you about something?” I ask once more, feeling nervous and agitated at the same time. She was paying me no attention whatsoever.

                “I just really can’t decide if I should go for the white or beige,” she says exasperatedly, holding up two carpet swatches for the upteemth time. “What do you think, Opal?”

                “Mom.” I’m growing tired of this. “I couldn’t care lase about those damn carpet swatches!”

                “Opal!” my mom gasps. “Language, please.” She tuts and shakes her head like a mother hen, which I guess is her ideal role in life. Always cooing, watching over me. So annoying.

                “It’s really not important,” I sigh, but she still isn’t paying attention, focusing now on some curtains she wants for the living room remodel. I’ve had just about enough of this, so I approach her swiftly, grabbing her by the shoulders.

                “Mom,” I say once again, making her look at me. She looks older from up close, her permed hair tired, her skin sagging, her eyes water. What have I done to my poor mother? “Mom, I’m leaving,” I say before I can change my mind.

                “Where are you going, sweetie?” she asks innocently. “Off to spend another night at Angela’s?”

                I cringe inwardly. I won’t bother telling her Angela doesn’t exist, that all of my activites of the past few moths have been made up. I’ll just tell her what I’m doing. I turned eighteen yesterday and I can do whatever I want – at least that’s what I keep telling myself to feel reassured.

                “No, I’m leaving. I’m … I’m moving out,” I finally manage to say, averting my gaze so I don’t have to witness my mother’s heart breaking.

                What follows is an endless variation of pleading, anger and begging, which I won’t bore you with. Point is, hours later, I’m standing on the pavement a few blocks down from my house, a few suitcases I could barely drag with me at my feet. And then he’s pulling around the curb and my heart grows lighter, because it’s worth everything if it means being with him.

                Christian pulls over and wraps me in a bear hug, not bothering to ask how it went with my family. He sees I’m here and that’s enough for both of us – as long as we’re together.

                We load up my suitcases and sit in the car, making out for a few minutes.

                “Are you happy?” I finally ask, grinning widely as he revvs up the engine. He looks at me and smiles that perfect grin, his teeth so white they’re almost flashy, and I’m overwhelmed by the love I feel for him already.

                “Are you?” I ask again, hesitant as he doesn’t deliver an answer straight away. He pulls my hand closer as he drives, kissing my knuckles softly as he looks at me with a wicked grin.

                “I’m happy I can do whatever I want with you,” he says devilishly.

                You bet you that’s exactly what he was planning to do.

                Run, little me, run.