STORY WRITTEN IN 2016 under revision
WARNING: THIS PORTION CONTAINS TOPICS SURROUNDING AROUND SUICIDE, CUTTING, DEPRESSION, AND ABUSE. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.
THIS PORTION IS NOT MEANT TO ROMANTICIZE SUICIDE, CUTTING, DEPRESSION OR ABUSE. IF YOU ARE SOMEONE THAT GETS EASILY OFFENDED OR TRIGGERED, DO NOT READ BEYOND THIS POINT.
Skylar
I couldn't tear my eyes away from him. He had the box open, staring at it with much disgrace. He needs to leave. He can't just walk into my dorm room then start roaming through my stuff. This was like breaking and entering. And from the looks of it, I was sure an interrogation was coming soon.
We both speak at the same time. "Why are you here?" "Why do you have these?"
His eyes bore into mine, flaming, as if he was beyond furious as to what was in the box.
I shake my head. He shouldn't even be here. Why doesn't he go worry about Tracy?
"It's none of your business. Why are you here?" I repeat, holding my towel close to my body.
His lip trembles slightly and he curses under his breath. "That's not the fucking focus right now. Why do you have these? Are you using them, Skylar?" His eyes roam down the length of my body. "Let me see your wrists." He takes a step forward but I move back.
"Stop." My voice comes out in a weak cry now. "You need to leave." He needs to go. He doesn't care. He was beginning to become the root of the problem.
His face twisted. "Leave? I'm not going anywhere after finding these. Let me see your wrist." He demands.
I shake my head, my head pounding as my eyes dart to the box. I haven't used them. I promised my dad I would stop. "I—I...I can't...please leave." My voice was coming out lower than I expected. I didn't feel good.
We don't want her to get fat like she was before, my mother's words taunt me in my head. Her thighs are like both of mine, plus yours, Tracy's word stab me, tearing the flesh and exposing me. I blink back a cluster of tears, trying to hold them in. But it's too overwhelming.
A murmur comes from my lips as the first few bucket full tears fall from my eyes. "Trist—I—I'm sorry..."
My eyes are blurry as I blink and swipe my skin, trying to stop the breakdown before it can occur but it's already in full action. I can't control my emotions. My sobs sounds like the cries of a whale. I sniff, my nose feeling clogged and tremble as I feel strong arms secure my body.
I don't know what I am doing. In the moment, I don't see Tristen. I see my dad. I see his comforting arms. The only person who cared about me. The only person who knew what I was going through and even through his disappointment, he never spoke down upon me.
I hold him tight, burring my face in his loose T-shirt. My tears coat his shirt but he doesn't seem to mind. My sobs are violent, my little fist grabbing at the cotton of his shirt while my mind drives me insane.
"I'm sorry, I didn't..." My sentence of gibberish is cut off by Tristen cooing me, silencing me as he held me in his arms, soothingly rocking me. I held him tighter, my finger digging into his back. I sobbed onto him, my self-control flying out the window in less than seconds.
We stayed there for a while, until my sobs dialed down. And once they did, he pulled away. Not completely, but enough for him to look me in my eyes. My chest felt so tight, my heart beating so fast while my palms were damp with sweat.
"Skylar," Just by the mention of my name from his lips did a number on me. The tone of his voice was different now. It was laced with disappointment. I didn't want that. I do not want him thinking I was weak for what I used to do.
I shake out of his grasp as another chorus of tears pour from my eyes. "No, please, I don't—"
"Okay." He cuts off. He looks at the larger space between us and takes a step forward. I was trembling in my own skin. "Whenever you're ready, baby." He whisper, the sound of his voice making the floor beneath my feet sway.
His eyes pierced mine again. He was sending a message. A message I understand. He wasn't going to pressure me. I blinked back a solid thick tear as he took another step. My hands clutched the towel around my body as I watched him.
Once directly in front of me, he titled my chin, his thick fingers keeping it in place so I could stare directly at him. I inhale deeply as his scent fans my face. My stomach is doing somersaults as he invades my space.
He dips his head, pressing his lips to my chin. "Whenever you're ready, okay?" I know what he's asking. But I am not sure if I was ready to share. No one knew. Only my dad. He was the only one who knew about what I was going through.
But for some odd reason, I find myself nodding, my head feeling as if it was being controlled just by the touch of his fingers. His deep brown eyes scan mine and I feel myself crumbling at his feet. What was he doing to me?
He pulls back again. But this time, another expression is stamped on his face. His eyes slowly scan down my face, to my neck, then around my bare shoulders and arms. I held the towel tighter around me. His expression made me nervous. I watch him, as he licks the bottom of his lip. His fingers tug at the hem of his shirt and he gradually pulls it over his head.
A inaudible moan leaves my lips as I stare at the perfection that is standing before me. The ink that sculpts his body is dark against his skin and the bulging muscles sets my heart to flames. His eyes never leave mine. He's watching me as I watch him. His fingers tug at the belt bucket and begins undoing it. What was he doing?
Before I can register it, his pants fall to the ground with a thud. He steps out of them, leaving him shirtless with just boxers on his body. Don't look down there, Sky. Don't look.
I divert my eyes, redirecting them to his. What was he doing? Why is he stepping closer?
"Tristen—" I start but am immediately cut off.
"You look tired." He says, laying his hand out and nodding over to the bed, my bed.
I stare at his outstretched hand. "You don't look tired." I say to him.
He nods, his hand still stretched out. "So?"
"You don't have to stay. You can go—"
"I want to stay." He says. "Come on, you need rest." He grabs at my hand and holds my tiny fingers in his.
I look down at myself. I only have a towel on. "I have to change into paja—"
He shakes his head. "No, no. I want you just like that."
His request makes my eyes go wide. "Tristen, we're not going to do that." I emphasize the that so he could know what I meant.
He nods, a smile tugging his lips. "I know. I just can't sleep if you have that thing on." He turns away with me before I can say anything else. He pulls me to the bed. My bed wasn't as large as his. And seeing how Tristen wasn't a small guy, I wondered how he would even get in.
He pulls the sheets back and nods for me to go in first. I do so, slowly, holding the towel to my body securely, not wanting to lift my leg the wrong way and have him see anything to personal. Too bad he's already seen it.
Once I am situated, he shuts off the lamp besides my bed and gets in, the bed dips tremendously and I soon feel his masculine arms circle around me. One of his hands go down to my towel and pulls one of the flaps to open it.
"Tristen..." I breathe out.
"I know." His breath fans my ears. "I just need if off." He states, gradually unraveling the towel from my body. Once it is completely off, he turns and tosses it somewhere. I feel so exposed that I try to hide under the sheets but swiftly catch my breath once I feel his thick fingers grab at my waist, pulling me towards him. He pulls me dangerously close and my stomach comes in contact with an erect organ on his body.
A gasp leaves my lips as I feel him, which causes a little fit of chuckles to erupt from Tristen's lips. I pinch his sides and he laughs harder. "I'll behave. I promise."
His words allows me to relax and as his arms wrap around my naked body, I don't feel weird anymore. I situated my legs between his hairy muscular ones and wrap my arms around him as well. I lean my head against his chest, loving that I could hear his heart beating.
We laid there in the dark for a while. The rain was pouring quietly in the background while little sparks of lightning would grace light into the room every now and then. My mind had somehow drifted. How did he get inside my dorm room? Why was he here from the start?
Unconsciously, I realize that my hands were tracing the many tattoos that he had on his body. I wonder why he had so much. I wonder the meaning behind them as well.
Feeling him intake a sharp breath, I knew he wasn't sleeping either.
"Tristen?"
"Hmm?"
"How'd you get in my room?" I continued tracing the ink that graced his body.
"A bobby pin and a butter knife." He says roughly, his voice sounded raspy.
"There's cameras in the halls, Tristen." I say quietly.
I can hear the smile in his voice. "I've realized. I'll deal with the Dean tomorrow or whenever the footage is looked upon. I really don't care." He announces.
"Why did you come here?" I question. I need to know.
He shifts a little, causing me to move with him. "You said you'd answer." He was referring to this morning. I said I'd answer his call.
But that was before I found out you had a girlfriend that you've been hiding, I almost said. But my lips just couldn't say it. I don't know why.
"I was...busy." I lied. I had seen his calls and messages. I just needed to distant myself from him. This was wrong. Even right now, it was wrong being here with him, allowing him to stay with me. I know he has a girlfriend. I've seen her. And I wasn't his type. He didn't care about me. If he did, he would have told me already. He would have told me that he was using me and he had another girl, another girl that he actually care about.
So why was I here? Why was I allowing him to hold me like this?
Why?
Because you rarely ever got this comfort from anyone but your daddy. I shut my eyes, feeling the hurt as my own thoughts stabbed me left and right. But it was true. Tristen made me feel wanted, he made me feel like he cared and liked me. I feel as though he enjoys being with me just as much as I do him. But maybe I was wrong.
I'm always wrong in the end.
"I haven't used them." I blurt out. I don't know where exactly that had come from but I wanted him to know that.
His body stills and his groggy voice controls the room. "When was the last time?" His hand surprises me and takes a hold of mine, but I don't miss that he slides his fingers down my wrist, trying to feel something, anything.
I open my eyes and stare at him. Even in the dark, I could see the worry lines growing on his forehead as his eyes held concern within them. "Two years ago."
"Why?" The question held so much other questions within. But I wasn't ready to face my demons. I wasn't ready to open that part of me. Not right now. Not tonight.
I shook my head. "I don't—I can't....Not right now." I tell him quietly. He looks as if he wants to press on about it but he doesn't. He lets my wrist go and holds me closer against him.
I hold onto him as well, not wanting him to go. But he wasn't mine. I had no claim over him. But just for this moment, it felt right. I feel like I belonged with him. I shook my head. Last time. This is my last time getting sucked into his trap.
But I felt like I was in so deep that I never wanted to leave. He was like a new addiction. I couldn't get enough of him. I know I should stop but I can't. It wasn't easy. I was confused, embarrassed and tired.
My eyes slowly dim, and in less than seconds, I find myself falling asleep against a man who was not mine.
__________________
Tell me your thoughts!
Goal: 1,000 votes!
Hope you all had an amazing day!
- Jenn.