Make me stay

Stuck in limbo

His kitchen table is so familiar by now. I scratch awkwardly at the wooden surface. It's just like everything here; worn out until it's smooth. He doesn't make me hot chocolate this time. 

What am I doing here? 

"You know... I don't acctually like your type" he tells me with an apologetic tone. Well some only fuck me for the thrill. I guess he's like the rest. 

"So why did you flirt with me, back at the bar?" I ask him with anger and hurt in my tone. Say it, you sick fuck. Tell me that I meant nothing. 

He hesitates while I wait for another painful blow. 

"It's because you had this look in your eyes... like you didn't know what it was like to be loved" he says and the words are so soft that I shiver. It's not fair. I feel the anger rise in me. 

"Are you surprised?! Now you've known me for a while. Is it so strange that no one can stand me?" I hiss at him. 

It feels like I'm stuck in limbo. Jason is keeping me in this wierd conversation while I stumble the line between life and death. What does he want? 

I thought he was my angel, the only good thing in my life, maybe this is to show me he was acctually sent by the devil? 

"I'm sorry about what I said yesterday. I didn't mean it. I wanted you to stay. I wanted you to choose me. I'm so sorry that I let you go" he explains and the way his words tug at my bruised heart is worse than any pain my boyfriend has given me. 

My battered little heart trembles with fear. It's a trick. He's lying. All of this is just to hurt me. 

"What changed?" I ask with all of my disbelief showing. 

"What?" He looks confused. 

"Since yesterday, what changed? Was it me walking out that made you change your mind, or was it that you couldn't sleep with the guilt?" I mutter with a poisonous tone. He looks at me in shock. 

"Is that what you think?" he answers. I scowl at him. 

"I don't know what to think" I mumble and this time my tone is honest and soft. 

A heavy scilence descends on us. 

"I want to... do all those things you asked me to. I want to be that person... but I'm not, Jason. I'm sure you've realised by now, that there is nothing good in me" I say in defeat. 

"What do you mean?! There is only good inside you. All the bad things that you feel, that isn't you, Ryan. Those are just feelings that you get because people treat you wrong. You don't deserve his abuse. You're not a whore... You're the wonderful person I can't give up about" he claims with a gaze so serious it makes me question my distrust. 

The little vocie inside me reminds me. How many times has anyone ever acctually meant that? 

"What does that even mean?" I brush his words off. The little child inside me is reaching out a hand into the scary darkness. Secretly I hope. 

"It means I don't want you to go back to him" he says and I'm so weak to his face when he looks at me with that pleading look. If only it was true. 

"You know you can't get just a piece of me, right? You know that if you make me do this I will have absolutely nothing?" I pressure him but his gaze never falter. 

"I know. I won't abandon you" he promises and I want to believe him so badly that my heart shivers painfully in my chest. I know it's all the child in me is asking for but it's so scary I can't accept it just like that. 

Say it. Say it or I won't belive you. 

"Ryan?" 

"I... please?" I beg with a voice that's breaking on my tears. Neither of us really understands why I'm pleading. 

"What can I do to make you stay?" he asks and my head flips up at the word. His face is a marvel of confusion. He doesn't know it. He probably will never understand how much it takes for me to ask him for it. 

"Say it again" I mumble and feel my cheeks heating up. I'm doing it; I'm trusting him. He won't-

"Stay. Please stay" he repeats and reaches his hand out to touch me. The way his fingers brush over my arm is heavenly. "Stay, Ryan" he says again and gets up to stand in front of me. I stand up to meet him but feel so wrong and unsure of myself, until he wraps me in a perfect hug. 

The sob that breaks through my harsh shell has waited fifteen years to come out and I weep against his warm chest. The smell of him makes me feel so open and vunerable. I curl my fingers into his shirt and cling to him with all of my tiny might. 

He holds me, caresses me and kisses the top of my hair, mumbling that it will be all right. My chest aches so much that I have to belive him or I won't survive.