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this is a little scene from a discontinued story of mine. i might pick it back up again, but not for awhile. i want to try to focus on short stories and nonfiction pieces and try to get some minor things published first. Anyway, here it goes...

Levi leans into me and I can smell the alcohol and smoke on his skin. I open my mouth to breathe it all in more fully, his scent sending lightning through my system. He covers my mouth with his own and slowly leans me back onto his bed. I feel my chest opening up and letting him fill me, letting the guilt and fear and the wanting overtake my senses. I need him to fill me up. I need him to take away this emptiness. I need him to make me feel real.

His body is hot like a furnace, scorching me with his fingertips. His damaged hand brushes along my back, my stomach, down my bare legs, aggravating the angry red cuts that cover me. I feel the pain of it and I like it.

I lift his shirt over his head and look closely at his skinny frame, his sternum and the ripple of his ribs under the skin. My hands roam across that surface and he shivers away from me for a moment. He whispers, “Your hands are cold.”

“Warm me up.” I whisper before I come back to his lips, eager for another drink. Come on, fill me up. Please, I need you to fill me up.

“God, you’re so sexy.” He rumbles as he takes my legs and pulls them tightly around him. He leans down and kisses my collarbone and down my sternum. With my legs I crush myself into him, needing to feel him all over me.

He lifts my dress over my head and surveys my body. With both hands, he fingers all the cuts that mar my stomach. He traces the words failure, loser, and die. I take both of his hands and try to pull him towards me, to keep him from looking at me anymore, but he resists.

“You’re so beautiful. Even with the scars. But--” He stops as he traces the crosshatching just above my navel, “You’re destroying yourself. Why?”

I unwrap my legs and reach for my dress, “I don’t want to talk about this.”

He reaches for my dress and tries to take it back from me, “Come on, Kacy. Please, I want to know.”

I yank the dress away from him and slip it back over my head, “I do it because I need to. That’s all. Why do you need to drink?”

I don’t ask him because I really want to know, but because I want to get him to shut up. To get him to stop pointing the finger at me.

I try to get up from his bed, but he pulls me back down, “Kacy, don’t be like that.”

“Don’t be like what? Just mind your own fucking business.”

He leans in and tries to kiss my neck, but I pull away. “You can’t butter me up. I’m going to be pissed at you for the rest of the day.”

“Just today?” He says grinning like the Cheshire cat and moving into kiss me again.

This time I let him kiss my neck, let him run his tongue around my ear making all my muscles shiver.

“Maybe tomorrow too.” I breathe as my body pulses with warmth again. I run my fingers through his shaggy hair and let out a sigh.

His kisses make their way up my neck and across my chin. He gently pecks my nose and smiles, “Forgive me?”

I kiss his full lips slowly, savoring the taste of menthol and smoke, “Well, I don’t know. Do you deserve it?”

He wraps his arms around me and squeezes me against his bare chest. I run my hand down the side of his scruffy face, then through his dirty hair, tucking the stray strands behind his ear. His eyes are so bright, like blue beacons trying to lead me out of this wreck. Our eyes could never be more different, my eyes rooted to the earth, dark as Indian soil.

“I think so.” He says kissing my forehead.

“Show me.” I whisper as I lift my dress over my head and throw it on the floor, “I want you to show me.”

Hours later, Levi sleeps as I lie wide awake with my head resting on his bony chest. My head dips up and down as he breathes the deep sigh of sleep. With my hands I trace the outlines of his ribs, wishing he would eat more than he drinks. He’s too skinny. His body is just as wrecked as mine.

Through the walls I hear Riley and Ashley watching Jackass on television. They howl and hoot as they watch idiots try to kill
themselves. The smell of pot seeps in under the door and I feel at home. Alcohol, cigarettes, pot, and sex wrapping me up in a cocoon of all I’m not supposed to want, but do anyway. I’ve never felt so fulfilled and rested as I do now. I would stay here forever listening to laughter and the sighs of sleep, feeling cheap sheets and Levi’s soft skin, getting high from proximity to the pot. I wouldn’t change this moment for anything, even though the slightest mention of this would shame my family. For just a moment, as the streetlamp shines through the slatted window and splays across our intertwined bodies, I don’t care what they think. I don’t care at all.


( 2 comments — Leave a comment )
Nov. 20th, 2009 06:07 pm (UTC)
love it <3
Nov. 20th, 2009 11:19 pm (UTC)
aww thanks sweetie!
( 2 comments — Leave a comment )



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