Hell is not fire and brimstone, not a place where you are punished for lying or cheating or stealing. Hell is wanting to be something and somewhere different from where you are.
~Stephen Levine.
Lochlan doubled down on the fire and Sam on the brimstone this morning as they made a wall of flames around us, a personal cautionary tale instead of a general sermon. A lashing, not even remotely less painful by virtue of being verbal and a call to God to end the madness even as we keep its head underwater so that it only ever surfaces enough to get a breath. It's under control. Everything's fine. You can call God on your personal hotline all you like but just remember the only single thing on earth he can't control is the Devil.
I took Caleb's hand midway through the lexical torture and Lochlan sighed and pulled my hand away again, taking both of mine in one of his, firmly against my lap while his right arm pulled me against him, away from Caleb. Not sure what changed. Maybe writing about what a difficult time Caleb has with being gentle is setting him (them) off. Maybe the fact that he still likes to mildly put me under consciousness so that everything is easier is making Lochlan worry. It's easy to kill someone who's half your weight, half your size. A good squeeze will do. A hard knock will do. A twist. A blow. An oops. Though Caleb isn't going there, as he would suffer the most grief if he did, having wanted me the longest and been denied. That would cement his fate alone. Alive, I remain a goal. A dream, even. Alive, I remain a rare companion to him. Momentarily making his night or his day before the dream is ripped away because Lochlan's never going to let him have it.
But it isn't only Lochlan in the way. It's an entire army made up of the living and the dead. And clearly it's headed by God. I was actually surprised when he said he would meet us at church. I figured he would shrink back against the woodwork at home but instead he holds his head high. Technically he's done nothing wrong. Technically I'm his girlfriend. His charge. His sugar baby. His Reason for Being. His brother's wife that he promised to take care of. And honestly the sex isn't even that rough anymore when compared to Ben or Sam or August, for fucks sakes so I don't know why Lochlan is so mad now.
I can tell you after, Lochlan whispers to me and I stare at him. Stop reading my mind, I think and he shakes his head.
No, he laughs. It's the only way I can tell what's really going on.
Just going to point out here that God can't even do that, or everything would be different right now.
I took Caleb's hand midway through the lexical torture and Lochlan sighed and pulled my hand away again, taking both of mine in one of his, firmly against my lap while his right arm pulled me against him, away from Caleb. Not sure what changed. Maybe writing about what a difficult time Caleb has with being gentle is setting him (them) off. Maybe the fact that he still likes to mildly put me under consciousness so that everything is easier is making Lochlan worry. It's easy to kill someone who's half your weight, half your size. A good squeeze will do. A hard knock will do. A twist. A blow. An oops. Though Caleb isn't going there, as he would suffer the most grief if he did, having wanted me the longest and been denied. That would cement his fate alone. Alive, I remain a goal. A dream, even. Alive, I remain a rare companion to him. Momentarily making his night or his day before the dream is ripped away because Lochlan's never going to let him have it.
But it isn't only Lochlan in the way. It's an entire army made up of the living and the dead. And clearly it's headed by God. I was actually surprised when he said he would meet us at church. I figured he would shrink back against the woodwork at home but instead he holds his head high. Technically he's done nothing wrong. Technically I'm his girlfriend. His charge. His sugar baby. His Reason for Being. His brother's wife that he promised to take care of. And honestly the sex isn't even that rough anymore when compared to Ben or Sam or August, for fucks sakes so I don't know why Lochlan is so mad now.
I can tell you after, Lochlan whispers to me and I stare at him. Stop reading my mind, I think and he shakes his head.
No, he laughs. It's the only way I can tell what's really going on.
Just going to point out here that God can't even do that, or everything would be different right now.