Deep Wounds

Deep Wounds

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WpMetadataReadContenido adultoContinúa<5 mins
WpMetadataNoticeÚltima publicación dom, oct 25, 2015
"They burn.." My eyes tear up as the washcloth with rubbing alcohol was pressed against the deep cuts on my arm. I saw him grit his teeth. "Ignore the pain." "It's kind of hard to when it's deep and- OWWW okay okay okay OKAY I GET IT" I yelled as he put pressure on the wounds. He sighed "You're so stubborn." "So are you." I watched his facial expression carefully, though hard to tell when that cheshire grin is there for eternity, along with the ringed eyes. I watched him roll his eyes "That's not the point." I heard the slight anger in his voice. "You're such a liar." A grin crept onto my face. He looked up at me angrily "Hey, what're you-" "Remember when you first met me?" I asked, my grin staying plastered onto my face. He pressed the washcloth slightly harder onto the cuts "Yeah.." "You said that I was caught in your game, but in the end, you are the one who's caught in my own game. My game of love, idiot."
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"Get over yourself," I spit, twisting away from him, slamming the crate closed with a sharp motion. "I'm not here for you. I'm not interested in whatever game you think you're playing." But my voice cracks on the last word. Damn it. I hate that I can't keep my cool around him. "You're lying." He steps even closer, his chest almost brushing against my back. I can feel every inch of him now, and it's almost too much. My breath hitches as I fight to maintain control, to keep my body from betraying me. "You're just as trapped in this as I am. Whether you want to admit it or not." I can feel the heat of his body radiating against mine, and every nerve in my body is screaming at me to get the hell away from him. But I don't. Instead, I turn around, forcing myself to meet his gaze. His eyes are darker now, intense, unreadable-like he's looking right through me, but I won't let him. "I'm not trapped," I say, my voice trembling with the lie I'm trying to tell myself. "I don't need anyone, least of all you." He watches me for a long beat, the silence stretching between us until it feels like it might snap. Then, finally, he leans in just slightly, his lips brushing against my ear as he speaks. "You're wrong." His voice is low, a whisper just for me. "You may not need me, Yasmine, but you sure as hell want me."

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