A Mutual Understanding

Act 1

"You're still as beautiful as the day I met you, my love."
The words creep past my lips, able to escape successfully without any means to stop them. I kiss her forehead fondly, aware of her internal beauty and passion that lies between us. We are in love.

Remember that time. A normal, average day. No breeze at all, only her. We were young. I had watched her from the back of a room, focus intent on everything I would say. Her eyes were wandering, searching for something in the mist. I tried to look away, to not let my presence known. She found me anyway and I was not strong enough to resist.

I could blame it on alcohol. On drugs, or an affair but frankly I've never been to fond of any of those. Let me rephrase that. No external force ruined the relationship. She was tired of me. I was tired of her. It was mutual, right?

So tell me why my heart beats a little slower when I see her, why my breathing quickens and my hands clench? My bones crack and break with every step to her. I love her. She loves me. My grip tightens around her with every chance it gets. I can't bear to lose her, my perfect world. I wish to give her happiness above all. We discussed having a family back when we were still kids ourselves. Our plans revolved around each other and we couldn't bear to do anything without the other. So tell me. Why is it that she chose to run to another? I figured out only a few short moments after we moved in together that she found someone else. Did I do something wrong? She says that I was too controlling. I ruined the relationship with my love. I remember truly finding the truth. An apartment complex a few blocks away. A sacred room to where she made love to another. The carpet is stained, but oh dear it is not with beverage or anything other. Thick, hot, elixir is on their floor. Bleach and new material solves the issue but why hasn't she answered my calls?

"Why did you ignore my calls?" I ask, our bodies intertwined and sweat rolling down our chests. She tenses, I can feel her tighten around my fingers. It's always been about her. Her needs and her wants. I insist we keep it that way. I lengthen my strokes, pounding her harder than I ever could. Afraid, of her feeling pain. She likes this change of pace. My rough, calloused hands holding her close. Scarred from attending to her problems. Left hand slides up and wraps around her smooth neck. Her pulse thundering violently underneath my fingertips. This arouses me. She loves me inside her, controlling her. Showing my love. My love. Their love.

My breath hitches and my eyes sting upon impact. The thought is corrupting me. She only likes this because I remind her of them. Their sexual agenda. My grip tightens around her. Wide eyes meet collected, motivated. "You're angry." She breathes out, trying to claw at my hand. She's always said it's my anger that ruins things but never thought to consider why it is that I got angry. She's rubbing my knuckles, shakily as she would calm me down but there is no taming this beast I've kept inside for my life. The one I groomed so perfectly well that it blended in with us. She says I'm ruining the relationship. She says she loves me.
I'm obsessive.
It's hot that I'm possessive.
We're through.
Come back to me.
You're too rough.
Harder, baby.
Enough.

Enough.
Her chest stops rising.
Feet stop kicking
Hands fall to her sides.
She looks as beautiful as the day I met her.