"Are you driving me back home?" I grasped the seatbelt, buckled it up tight, and watched him do the same for himself. "No, I'm taking you to the countryside." He muttered while sarcasm poured out of his mouth like a waterfall. He grinned ear to ear and watched as I rolled my eyes half annoyed at the petty joke. We shared a few awkward glances. Our eyes nervously scanned across one another. Hendrix cleared his throat before speaking. "Yeah, you live in the apartment next to mine." I fucking knew he was the same guy from earlier! That voice was just too familiar. It's the slight accent he has that makes him have that recognizable sound and the huskiness evident in every word spoken. It's one of the most attractive things about the guy and drives me insane. That seems odd of me to say considering we have only shared a few conversations. His car seemed in outstanding condition despite looking old fashioned and back in a time where there was little colour scheme. The car was glossed a jet black colour which radiates heat and the gloss shines with every little burst of light. The way it would shine in summer must be breathtaking.
The veins on his hands popped out while he drove. His pale skin looked luminescent like a vampire's complexion. He looks like the type of guy to enjoy gothic or punk clothing which isn't necessarily a bad thing. Not either of us muttered a word which only made things more awkward. We sat in complete silence for a good two minutes and if I didn't say anything, we probably would have been in silence for the entire car ride. Taking a leap of faith, I decided to start a conversation. "So why did your friend give me those strong drinks for free?" A red light appeared in view causing him to hit the brakes and slow down. His eyes glued to the road while he answered my question. "He probably assumed you wanted to get hammered or blackout drunk." His large hand tightened around the steering wheel making his veins pop out more than they already were. I bite my lip slowly as a group of butterflies rush to my stomach. His expression changed into anger as someone driving past him cut in front. His hand hits the steering wheel with aggressive force as he cusses under his breath. A wave of terror overcame me as dreadful memories returned.
My mind went back in time completely blocking out the present moment. Almost as if my soul travelled to a past nightmare of mine but my body remained in the current universe refusing to let terror take control. The flashback I experienced was a certain nightmare of mine that I'm familiar with. It replayed in my head over and over making me feel nauseous. Trying to fight it back, I bite my tongue drawing blood. The metallic taste spread like battery acid. Luckily, my conscience slowly returned. "So are you going planning to take advantage of me? please do it quick and get it over with." A single tear dripped down my cheek and my breathing became unusually slow. It felt like all the oxygen inside my lungs got stolen or lost. I could still picture the past perfectly but could barely figure out a way to break free. My throat began to feel sore and scratchy.
He pulled into the nearly filled car park in front of the apartments we both live in. "Why would I take advantage of you?" His words sounded like a soft echo trying to bring me back from the past. He drove into a free space and pulled out his car key. I wanted to say something but the words seemed to be trapped inside my throat. I could only get out a single stutter. His face twisted with confusion and concern at my lack of response. Finally, a sentence managed to escape from my trapped vocal cords. "Never mind just forget it and let me get out of the car." My voice wobbled as I spoke. His expression shifted from genuine confusion to seriousness. "Your past doesn't define you." He said while getting out of the vehicle. He walked to my side of the car with quick speed and opened the door allowing me to step outside. The fresh air was cold and refreshing. I took in a large deep breath as if the fresh air was limited. We walked inside the apartments together in silence. He passed me a piece of paper before leaving to go to his own room. I opened it up and it had a phone number under "Hendrix". Automatically assuming it was his number, I added the contact to my phone. The only reason he would want my number would be to make sure I'm safe and to become potential friends. I will not allow anything further to occur. Under no circumstances are we to ever get together or have romantic relations.
While undressing and removing all the makeup, the light shun on my arm making the white scars become easily seen despite being covered with tattoos. God looking at them makes me feel shit. They ruined my skin completely. Nobody could ever understand me or accept me as a person. I don't hate my skin or the tattoos it's the scars that make me feel loathsome about my body. They are hideous and make me look so disgusting no matter how much they are covered up. Even getting tattoos over them doesn't stop me from seeing the darkness underneath and knowing what happened before. What is wrong with me? Just earlier on I was so confident with my body and myself and yet once I realise the truth about what is underneath my attempts at appearing confident hurts. It feels worse than death. Death is something I almost experienced on multiple occasions. My past is fucked up and twisted but that doesn't mean somebody can come into my life and "fix me".
Standing in front of the mirror, my full body on show. Their touch will always be on me. It's been years since the previous relationship but it still hurts seeing what they left behind. My thigh and arm are covered with tattoos for a reason yet it's not stopping the thoughts and memories from returning. Nobody knows about what happened and assume the best in me when in reality it's the opposite. My other thigh looks very empty due to the lack of scars or tattoos yet it feels heavy from the touch of that evil bastard. Nobody would know if I just gave in to my temptations one more time. Walking over to my kitchen, my impulses took over causing me to intentionally drop a glass cup on the floor and collect a sharp shard. Pressing the shard into the empty side of my thigh, I hesitated to go further. The promise made to Freya held me back. She would be heartbroken if I hurt myself again. But she wouldn't be upset if she never found out. Hesitation died down as the urges became stronger. Sliding the shard against my skin, blood oozes out from the lined wound. Another line was made only this time a deeper meaning it would bleed more. It felt good yet wrong. Leaning against the kitchen counter, I put the glass towards my chest and made small slashes across my breasts as an attempt to get rid of their touch. I would rather bleed out then let them take control of my life again. I put the shard up against my neck. Hot tears trickled down my face as hesitation began to build up again. Just do it. Nobody is stopping you so do it. My mind replayed these words over and over.
The door knocked.
YOU ARE READING
Trauma vs Love
RomanceA young woman, travels to LA for her job as a book writer but unexpectedly meets this "mysterious" guitar player causing her to debate her lack of trust in guys.
