Thursday 4 February 2016

Complex carbon beings (you were so beautiful).

All that you love, will be carried away
oh all that you love, will be carried away

All of my pain, that you put on my name
all of my doubt, and all of my shame

All of my guilt, my denial and fear
all of my hatred and all of my tears

All of the time that I couldn't go home
all of the times that I froze all alone

All of the sadness all of the lies
all of the shadows that blackened my eyes

All of the servants, who cheated, who stole
all of the colors from the depths of my soul

All of the wounded, that you left for dead
now creep in the corner, they're all in my head

All of the dreams that you made nightmares
all of the silence, deafening stares

All of the ships who can't carry loads
you wrecked in anger, along distant shores

All of this would have been
All of this could have been yours

All of this should have been
All of this could have been yours
Throwing plates at Joel today. Be right back.

***

I was flat on my back in the summer bedroom, holding on for dear life, arms and legs clasped around Jacob's back as he drove against me slowly, languidly. It was so warm out. We were slippery and flush. A rare night breeze would gift us every few minutes, making the curtains fill and bow in the silence of the dark. He put his hand up to touch my face, wrapping his thumb underneath my chin, his fingers in my ear. Pulling my gaze up into his soul so I could see it. So I could feel it in the darkness. So I would know.

I love you, Pig-a-let.

But then my phone rang and instead of answering him, I told him I had to take the call.

He got up, put on his boxers and went down the hall to the bathroom to take a shower.

I pick up the phone.

Neamhchiontach. What took you so long to answer? 

It's four in the morning. What do you want?

You. 

Sorry, I'm not available. 

You will be. Give it time. 

***

He shot me up in the leg, behind my knee and I came instantly. Face down in the crisp white duvet under a skyscraper sky full of stars made up of office windows. My reflection staring disappointingly back at me until I closed my eyes and she was gone.

Just like Jake.

He wasn't real anyway, the voice says it thickly into my ear. I shove him away, pushing my head against his but he doesn't notice. It's so warm. He lifts my hips up with one hand and slams himself deep but I don't cry out like I usually do because his other hand is over my mouth.

I need to know in advance how long you'll be here, so that I can send you out intact. 

I shake my head. I don't know what time it is. I don't know what time is, right now. I just know the whooshing black waves of euphoria aren't real and I can't keep them.

We can go for days, Bridget. He turns me over, resuming his cadence against me. I can't feel my arms or legs. Everything is too heavy. My eyelids close and he scoops a hand under the back of my head to lift me up.

Door. 

No. Right here is fine. I don't want to be held up against the door. I just want to be in this tiny little space where things don't actually hurt.

You do what I tell you. But when I go to stand up I can't and so I try to crawl but I only get a couple of feet before he yanks me back hard onto the bed and slaps my face gently to make me focus. It's a little hard to breathe, to focus.

Goddamn it, Bridget. I think you've had too much. 

Then just a little more please. 

I'm going to call Ben to come get you. He pulls the sheet up over me and I close my eyes. When I wake up next I'm tied up and he's gone.

Ben? I think. Why would he call Ben?

***

Joel wants all of it. Everything I've never said out of fear or a misguided loyalty. He's angry that I wasn't as upfront with Claus or anyone else. Angry that I still didn't put it all out there even though I put out enough to keep them busy for the rest of my life and theirs. Incensed that I'm not trying and yet I insist that I want to help them help me.

A little lying, thieving hypocrite, he names me as I turn my back on him, still looking over my shoulder at him suspiciously, holding all of their hearts in my arms.

Name-calling is incredibly unprofessional, I point out as I drop his heart on purpose and kick it through the door into the hall. I make no move to go and get it. He watches me and then stares at his heart and goes to pick it up. The minute he goes through the door I close it behind him, twisting the lock so he can never ever ever come back again.