Demons Don't Feel Love

Chapter Fourteen: On the Mend

I looked at so many dresses, so many types of fabric and colors, endless arrays of styles and silhouettes. I tried on so many, I nearly felt suffocated. There were corsets and petticoats, necklaces and bracelets, hair accessories and earrings. You name it, I tried one on. Finally, after three hours, I looked at myself in the dressing room mirror.

She was beautiful. She was elegance dressed in black. She was irony. She was both a love for life and a hate for it as she was to be wed with scars on her wrist; a stomach filled with butterflies and pills from a suicide attempt. She was the first woman I ever fell in love with, and she was getting married. The best part of it all was the fact that she was me. I would walk down the aisle knowing that this beautiful woman was me, despite the scars, despite the pain, she was alive.

The dress was a jet black ballgown, made of mostly silk, with a lace petticoat. It had bows and ribbons, all black as well, and I bought with it a few pins for my hair to match. Also, while I was out, I bought new makeup and black lipstick. I would be a deathly sort of bride, but I felt so alive! This was my break from all my years of agony and hatred, this was my saving grace. This was my home.

With my dress picked out and set aside to be altered, I left the boutique and headed home. As I walked through town, I realized just how accomplished I felt. Daren and I had started an entire life together. We picked up all our broken pieces and stitched them together with our jaded and calloused hands. To this day I think that is something worth fighting for, no matter how it threatens to end.

I opened the door and hung my keys on the hook on the wall. I heard Daren coming downstairs. When I saw him, he ran towards me and hugged me tightly.

"I missed you so much babe." He whispered. I smiled gleefully as we held each other for a moment.

"What have you been doing?" I asked him as we slowly let go of our embrace.

"I cleaned a bit, then I've just been listening to music and chilling in the spare room." He replied.

"Have you been feeling well?"

"I guess I have. At least, I don't have any reasons to say that I haven't." He said, slipping his hands nervously into his pockets. I noticed he was still donning long sleeves, which was necessary in public to avoid undue attention; but here, he was safe. I wanted to make sure he felt that.

"Let's go upstairs." I told him. When we were in our bedroom I glanced at him.
"I thought you'd been resting. Why do you seem so tense?"

"Do I really seem that way?" He asked, with genuine concern.

"I guess that doesn't matter. What I wanna know is... do you feel that way?"

"I haven't been aware of any tension... I've been lying down and taking frequent breaks to focus on my breathing just like you said."

"I trust you, Daren. One last thing, though, could you take your jacket off?"

"I thought you trusted me?"

"Could you just reassure me?" I asked.

"Sure." He took it off, revealing the old wounds on his skin. I was relieved to see that there were no recent cuts. 

"I just want you to feel safe here. You don't have to hide what you did."

"You're right. I guess I hate being reminded that I ever did it; like I used to be there for you when you self harmed, so it doesn't make much sense that I would end up doing the same.

"I feel that way too sometimes, when I think about it. It doesn't matter, you know? It just shows that we are more alike than we realized."

"I don't want you to think I'm doing this shit for your attention. I don't feel right about any of it, like I kinda just wish I was dead or something so you wouldn't have to put up with me."