Mare Moody - [blank]

He walks to the edge of the bed and looks down at my body. He analyzes it, praising my curves with his eyes.

“I love you, I really do.” he whispers under his breath.

I take a deep breath. I feel the air fill my body and give me a replenished view of the statement he has hit my conscience with.

“I love you too,” I whisper back to him.

I can’t profess my love loudly. I’m afraid if I do, my brain will hear it and begin listening to my heart.

His face reacts in a different way than I expected. I had anticipated that the love he professed is simply from his addiction and not from his heart but as I look at his troubled face, I get a glimpse of the Kane that did love me.

Memories of his smiles flood my small well of morals. It overflows and I am the one who has to clean up after his wreckage.

His hand outreaches for my chin. Normally I would pull back from him but I don’t want to. My love for him no longer has to be hidden and ashamed. While his love shows forth, my love can match it unaccused.

His hand gently grasps my chin. His finger strokes the side of my face. So much is put into that small gesture. He lets go of my face and reaches over my shoulder. With his other hand, he pulls a key out of his pants pocket. He grabs the handcuff restraining my left arm and unlocks the clasp.

Before reaching for my other hand, he gently pulls my hand out of the cuff and holds it like the most precious relic.

He studies the red mark with his eyes. He takes the hand and pushes his lips against it. It’s so sincere that my head hurts along with my heart.

This seems like a different Kane. Like the old Kane. Maybe we can be what we were. My heart hopes. It begs. It pleads.

Please.

He places my hand softly on the bed and reaches for the other cuff.

When he moves forward, his chest moves in front of my face. I can smell his aroma. Its sweet and sultry yet devilishly impure. I close my eyes and let his scent fill my nose. It is the part of him that has never mistreated me.

He lets my right arm free and kisses the red, flaming mark on it. When he places it down, he levels his eyes to mine. He looks into my eyes and I am overwhelmed. Every muscle in my body tenses. It does not tense in a frightened way but in an excitement that I have not felt since we were teenagers.

“I’m sorry,” he speaks softly, “I didn’t see you for you until you—”

He sighs and looks down. True sympathy and guilt is written all over his face. A smile slowly makes it way onto my expression. His mirrors mine. He moves his face closer to me, centimeter by centimeter. Time becomes menial and space becomes irrelevant. The only people in the world are him and I. Somehow, through all of this time, I realize that he was the reason I wanted to die.

His lips caress mine tenderly. The tension that had just built in my body is immediately defused. It drains out of my body as if the dam of my sins is tumbling down and giving way to the love which I feel in the deepest depths of my heart.

I push into the kiss with all of the strength in me. My eyes close tightly as I attempt to project all of my emotions onto his lips. I know that no matter how passionate the kiss is, it will never truly demonstrate the amount of adoration I have in this man.

I let him sway me in his currents. Although my brain hates it, my heart seeks after it. I am as addicted to the chaos as much as he is addicted to me. It’s the addicted addicted to the addicted.

I put my hands on the sides of his face and draw him closer to me. He responds by moving onto the bed and putting his body over me.

He pulls away from the kiss abruptly. I look at him confused. Pain is written all over his face.

“I can’t,” he whispers.

My heart leaps as he moves to the other side of the bed and lies on his back. I can see his breath becoming even.

I turn to him and put my head on his chest. I can hear his heartbeat. It it the only reminder that he is alive.

“If I do,” he breathes deeply, “I will revert.”

My hand caresses his chest through his shirt. His body is so warm and inviting. I could hold it forever if fate allowed.

“Come here.” He raises his arm, giving me clearance to cuddle him tightly.

My body fits in the crevice between his arm and his body. My head lands perfectly in the crook of his neck. For this moment all is well and all is good.

Both of the addicts have been calmed and the triggers have been set aside for the time being. Perhaps if we pray hard enough, it can stay this way forever.

No! This is not him! You do not love the one who loves you!

The voices begin to overtake me. I cannot stop them, though I try.

Wake him up!

I look over at Kane. His body is still. He is at peace. This is the most content I have seen him since we were young. I couldn’t wake him even if my life depended on it.

You don’t deserve this. You are a nasty whore.

The logic of the statement hits me. I am a whore. I was going to leave Kane and sleep with a nasty frat boy from a club. I deserve the Kane who hates me and longs for just my body. Although tonight he fought it, maybe I like it better when he doesn’t.

The thoughts begin to overwhelm me. They enter my head like a bubble full of poison and burst in front of my reasoning so that I can no longer make sound choices.

My breath becomes rapid. If it becomes too quick, it will wake up Kane. I try to steady it.

Breathe. Breathe. Breathe.

If I ignore the voices, I can breathe.

I close my eyes and focus. None of my senses are being used other than my touch. My hand is still placed gently on his chest. I focus all of my energy on the energy I am getting from the sensation of touching him.

My breath evens. My soul settles in my body and I feel sleep drift in. It moves down my body like a warm blanket until it finally brings silence upon my brain.

I awake panting. I look at Kane. He is still fast asleep. Through the small window, only darkness spills in. I feel extreme unease. The memories of Kane abusing me circle my mind. The rattling of the handcuffs won’t leave my ears.

He was so sweet and kind after and our love rekindled for that short time but I can’t forget what he has done to me. He has raped me, hit me and even kidnapped me. How can I justify that with love?

The unease grows and builds in my body. It ripples down from my head to my toes like a scorching flame. I’m not supposed to love him but I do. I wish I didn’t and right now I know I have to put my feelings behind me.

I slowly try to get out from my position. I am still nestled between his arm and his chest. I slide my body out from under him and free myself. Now that the cuffs are no longer on my wrist, it’s easy to leave.

Why are you leaving?

I thought you wanted him to love you.

You will never be happy, will you?

The voices taunt me. It is at these times that I wish there is an off switch. I gently get off the bed and walk out of the door.

The stairs greet me like an old friend, I walk down them carefully. If I make too much sound, Kane will wake up and there is no telling what he will do if he sees me leaving. I hold the railing in an attempt to make my footfalls a little bit lighter.

A part of my heart hurts. Seeing Kane be loving again but still leaving him is the hardest thing. It doesn’t help that the voices keep telling me to turn around and go back into his warm, inviting arms. I shake my head in an attempt to throw the thoughts out of my ear. I make it to the bottom of the stairs and I peer back up.

Dear Lord, please protect him.