42
MELODY TRYNISKI
-Past-

Sebastián's summer house
June 28, 2018
10:30 p.m.

"SMOKING A BLUNT AFTER sex will always be the best feeling in the world," Sebby says, his chest inflating with smoke as he breathes the weed in.

The room is dark, a sliver of silver moonlight coming from the only window in it. The moonlight, in its paleness, reflects the cloudy smoke coming out from his sweet mouth and the heat we've created from making love.

I only ever make love with Sebby.

Our sweaty bodies are entangled, transforming the heat from sex into the warmness that comes after it. A leg on top of his hips, an arm over my back, two torsos pressed against one another, a head resting comfortably on his chest. We're just several limbs thrown around, connecting over a natural and beast-like act. We're primitive when it comes to sex, touching and groping and thrusting and humping and looking for a release.

It's all communication when it comes to it, except our bodies are the ones that do the talking. There's something beautiful about that. Maybe it's the simplicity behind it.

His heart is beating fast. I can almost feel it pressing against my ear, a pattern of booms and thumps that awakens my own heart. "The best feeling in the world is sex itself, dummy," I say, giggling.

Sebby caresses the length of my pale arm with his calloused fingers. My back is enveloped by the weight of his arm, a heaviness that doesn't suffocate me. He has the blunt on his free hand and takes it to my mouth, the tips of his fingers coming in contact with my lips. They still smell of me, mixed with that earthy, piney, herbal scent of his that I adore so much.

"It's only the best feeling in the world when it's with you," he mumbles, planting a kiss on top of my head.

I can feel the weed coming down to my lungs, swirling around for a moment to settle its euphoric effects, before coming back up in a series of coughs. My eyes feel heavy with sleep all of a sudden, like the weed only works to enhance my tiredness instead of jolting me awake. Is this the same weed we smoked an hour ago? With Sebby, I never know.

"Oh, Sebby, you say the craziest things." I giggle, inhaling more smoke and puffing it out soon after. "I'm sure you've had a couple of better fucks than me."

As I think of this, let the possibility of him entangled with some other girl settle in, my chest burns with an unknown feeling. I want him all to myself. It's selfish and unfair, sure. But I'm done pretending to be someone that I'm not. I'm selfish and unfair, and I want Sebby for myself. It doesn't matter if I'm with some older guy or Logan or whoever else catches my attention. He's still mine.

He knows this, too. After all, I'm always ever going to be my own.

"It's different with you." He kisses my sweaty bangs, then brushes them back to kiss my equally sweaty forehead. "It's special."

Special. I almost laugh at the word, laugh at the fact that it's being associated with me. If I'm going to be honest with myself, there's nothing special about me. It's all pretend, a way to make myself seem more alluring. Sure, I'm pretty and smart and cunning, but special isn't a word that can be used to describe me. Not special in the way that Alexa is, anyways.

I mean, having a mother who had an affair with Levittown's most notorious serial killer? It doesn't end there because of course that serial killer murders her mother. And, to make the matter more tragic, she's the one who finds her mother's murdered body. Talk about trauma. Now that's something you can talk about. That's something that defines you, makes you special.

It doesn't get better than that.

Even though she doesn't know it yet or probably never will, she's falling in love with the son of her mother's killer. This is the kind of action that moves your life forward, like in the movies. This is what breaks or makes a person.

Nothing like me. I'm the typical white girl with her perfect two parents and her perfect house. A generic girl with an abusive boyfriend (not cliché at all) and a habit of fucking around just for the fun of it. See? Nothing special about me.

I pass the blunt to Sebby and move to give him my back. Through the window, I can see how the moon still hangs like a silver lantern on the empty sky. It's a silent witness to our affair, but it also reminds me of him. My eyes are like two full moons to him, silver and icy and gray.

Dangerously innocent. You're dangerously innocent.

My eyes fill with tears, bottom lip trembling. There's a soft ache growing in my chest, an ache that seems to grow in my heart and expand to every part that's falling in love with Sebby --- my lips, my eyes, my hands, my body, my mind... my soul. Everything.

Maybe I shouldn't leave, not when I have him so close to me. Maybe I should tell him about my plans, let him convince me not to go. Maybe this is all wrong, and I'm making a terrible mistake. Will he be mad if I don't show up at the riverbank? Can I do that to him? Maybe---

"What?" Sebby mumbles, moving closer to my body. "Too sentimental?"

I laugh, but it's a sad laugh --- the kind that comes out broken, with a little exhaled breath that announces the beginning of an ugly sob. "Yes," I whisper, trying to keep my voice steady. "I'm not special, Sebby. Not in the way you think. Not in the way you need."

Sebby places an arm over my tits, pushing me softly backwards so my back is against his torso. "You know that's not true," he whispers in my ear, plants a sweet kiss on my shoulder afterwards. "You know how I feel about you."

I don't want to know how you feel about me.

I bite my bottom lip hard to prevent from crying and stand up. I need to be away from him, away from his arms that feel like home, away from the effect he has on me. The floor is cold as I take more steps around the room, feeling oddly exposed yet unseen at the same time. I try to find my way in the dark, until I find a light switch and flip it up.

The room becomes lit, orange warming everything that was covered by shadows. This includes me. In the harsh orange light, my pale skin is covered in bruises and hickeys and bite marks. My gaze goes from the black bruises on my arms to the red hickeys around my hips, the purple bite marks in the inside of my thighs. I look at the place where Logan grabbed me earlier and notice the beginning of a bruise forming, a soft violet that will soon become black.

I knew he left something behind. He always does.

I turn around, catching my breath when I see Sebby in all his naked and golden glory. A white sheet is draped over his hips, covering one of my favorite body parts. Do we have time for a second round? I'm not going to see him for two months, might as well enjoy my time with him while I still have the time.

What time is it, though? Where's my phone? Fuck, I'm supposed to meet him at eleven. What if I'm already too late?

I guess there's no time for a second round, but that's okay. There's still him for the next two months and Sebby will be here waiting for me when I come back.

My eyes roam around the now brightened room in search of my clothes. My black lace panty is around the doorknob, while my matching bra is on top of a nightstand lamp. I collect them both and put them on, my body aware of Sebby's eyes on me.

"I know you feel the same way about me, Mel," he whispers, almost afraid of uttering something so bold.

My shoulders tense up, back turning rigid. All the hairs on my body are standing on end. Although my back is to him, I can feel the smile on his face, the hope that originates in his heart. He's waiting, expecting, praying. He wants an answer I can't give. The more I stay quiet, the more I can feel his hope vanishing. He wants too much of me.

Please don't say 'I love you'. Please, Sebby.

It might sound crazy, but Sebby's words hurt me more than Logan's physical abuse, even more than his abusive control in bed. Those things that normal people consider to be abusive excite me, ignite something dark within me that needs to feed off of my pain. But Sebby's words --- they're sweet and full of hope.

I don't know how to handle that.

I don't know how to handle real love or pure people. The guys I end up loving are always so rotten inside. And Sebby --- well, Sebby's not perfect, but he's different. He's pure and genuine and so different from every other guy I've ever known. Truth is, he makes me weak and vulnerable and turns me into the good person that I'm not. I'm proud of the fact that I've never been a good person. Nobody can fuck with me, but I can fuck with everyone else. I'm powerless to no one, while having power over everybody. That's how you don't lose yourself.

But Sebby --- fucking Sebby with his beautiful hazel eyes and his breathtaking voice --- disrupts my world. He makes me feel all these wonderful things, things I've never felt before, and shows me that there can be love without abuse.

He confuses me, confuses everything I believe in.

Everything's going to be okay. It'll just be two months.

"I don't get you," he says, more serious this time.

My trembling hands let go of Alexa's red blouse, letting it fall right back to the cold floor. "That makes two of us," I whisper, looking at him over my shoulder and giving him a sad smile.

With his jaw set, he puts the blunt out on the nightstand. "Why do you let men treat you like shit?" he says, his voice breaking a little. "Why are you with Logan if you don't love him? Why are you fooling around with that older dude if you don't want to? You do know that saying 'no' is an option, right?"

I take the red blouse from the floor and put it on, avoiding his gaze. "Says the guy who just fucked me raw," I whisper, the words scratching my throat before they leave my lips. "I can fuck whoever I want."

"I'm not saying you can't. You can fuck whoever you want, just be careful." He sighs, defeated. "I mean, look at you. You're covered with bruises. You don't deserve to be treated like this. Why do you want to destroy yourself so fucking bad?"

His words are like a slap to the face, throbbing and stinging and simply raw. See? His words hurt me more than any abuse that can be done to me. I hide from his words, forget he ever said them.

"Don't deserve what, Sebby?" I whisper, grabbing my jeans from the floor. "I'm ha-happy with how things are right now. Don't complicate it."

I turn my back to him and put the jeans on, stuffing my phone in one pocket and blinking the tears away. A tear slides down my cheek, probably ruining my makeup, so I brush it off quickly.

"Okay. I'm sorry," he says softly, while a constant tapping sounds loud in the room. Something in me aches for him, like the burning sensation in a fresh wound when it's in direct contact with the air. "It's just... why not me? Why aren't we a thing? This has been going on for a while now. You don't know how much it hurts --- to have you while not having you."

I know.

I know exactly how he feels because that's how I feel about him. But I can't say that. I can't be vulnerable, not now. Still, there's something inside me that softens. There's a painful burning in my throat and a wound in my heart, but his hope helps with alleviating the pain of it all. My eyes sting with fresh tears, my face feeling hot and ready to explode. I gulp it all down and turn around to look at him, to confront those pretty little hazel eyes of his.

He's always been an option, so why am I fighting against what I feel about him? Why am I fucking leaving with him if I don't want to? Why am I with Logan if I don't love him?

Then I remember as I see Sebby snorting a line of cocaine from the nightstand.

Nobody is perfect. I can't afford to lose myself for love --- for a love that has an expiration date. It's all about power and protection. As selfish as it may seem, it's all about me; my body, my soul, my freedom. That part of me that softened just a few seconds ago is hardening. I can feel the brick wall that's forming around my heart, the sting of my nails as they press against my palms, the metallic taste of blood as my teeth sink into my bottom lip, the ache that throbs in my eyes and throat.

At least Logan and my older guy aren't junkies.

"Are you seriously snorting cocaine right now? I mean, fuck, we're having a conversation here and you being high doesn't help it," I shout, feeling on fire. "That's why I can't be with you."

"I'm just trying to take the edge off, that's all." He laughs under the effects of the drugs he's taken, his eyes glazed and disoriented.

"You're always trying to take the edge off!" I shout, roughly grabbing my heels from the floor. "That's your problem, Sebby. You don't know how to process your emotions in a healthy way. You don't know how to handle them."

That goofy smile leaves his face now. My words seem to have sobered him up, if only for a little while. He shakes his head, tears slipping down his cheeks. "Please don't say that."

"You're thinking of doing it again, aren't you?" I mumble, looking at his trembling hands, seeing how blood spills out from one of his nostrils. "You want to snort those last two lines of shit. All because you can't handle the truth."

With a trembling finger, he brushes the blood off. "Mel, I... I love you."

"Please don't," I whisper, taking a few steps back, feeling myself softening.

I hate the effect he has on me. The combination of those words sounds so honest and raw coming from his perfect lips. I've heard many 'I love you's' from different guys, all of them really meaning 'thank you's' for fucking them. But from Sebby, it means more than just a thank you, more than just affection. He's in love with me.

"I've been in love with you since you stole that kiss from me three years ago." He tries to stand up, but the aftereffects of the cocaine don't let him. It's like the drug is pulling him back, preventing him from doing basic movements.

As much as I hate to admit it, there's hope fluttering in my stomach and growing at my heart.

"Then, why don't you quit?" I whisper, walking to the bed and sitting down on its edge. "If you love me so much, why don't you stop with the drugs? How can I love someone who may die from an overdose at any fucking moment?"

If he makes the effort to quit drugs, I will stay. It's not easy to get over an addiction, I know that, but we have to start somewhere. First, he must recognize that he has a problem and agree to get help. Mr. King is an excellent psychologist and can treat him. I will stay here to be what his parents have never been --- a support system, someone he can rely on, a constant reminder of a better life, his motivation. I will be there during his progress and his setbacks, if he makes the effort.

In his drugged haze, Sebby tries to think it through. "So, you prefer to be with an abuser and a sadistic old fuck?"

As he looks between the cocaine and me without voicing his true decision, I finally realize that it will always be drugs over me. I stand up and walk to the door, my stomach feeling all kinds of sick. That part of me that softens and hardens with every thought he chooses to share breaks, leaving in its wake an unbearable ache that seems to throb all over my body. It might be cliché (and I loathe being cliché), but it feels like my heart is breaking into tiny pieces that will never find their original shape.

The guys I end up loving are always so rotten inside. They all choose something over me, as if I'm something they can discard, something without true significance. I hate them all for it.

That's how "special" I am.

"Yes," I whisper, looking at him over my shoulder. My whole face feels swollen, as if the tears have accumulated so much that they no longer fit in my eyes. "It's better than being with a junkie like you."

Before I leave in search of my new adventure, I look at Sebby's reaction --- his jaw is set, eyes blinking rapidly either from the drugs or the impact of my insult; tears are falling down his cheeks, his face scrunching up in pure pain; his chest is inflating and deflating quickly, his handsome face turning bright red.

In this moment, it hurts to have complete control over someone. There's nothing in me that's relishing from breaking him completely, but I can't do anything about it. He's choosing drugs over me, drugs, when I thought that I was the only thing he was truly addicted to; like I'm addicted to him.

I will never understand why it hurts so much to love. It's better to feel nothing than anything at all. With Sebby, it's all too much, my feelings too powerful for my control. With Logan and my older guy, it's so simple. My body aches for that simplicity now more than ever. I want him more than ever now.

Sebby opens his mouth to say something, but I open the door and leave. The door closes behind me with a soft click. Despite myself, I wait for him. One, two, three minutes. He's not coming. The drugs, his forever captors, won't let him. I press my ear against the door and wait for the usual rage fit that men tend to have --- the throwing of things against the walls, the screaming, the punches to the wall until their knuckles are bleeding.

But there's only silence.

Then, a burst of sobs and cries. Sebby is crying because of me. He's hurting because I didn't tell him if I loved him. If I love him. He's worried for me.

My eyes burn until I can't hold it in for much longer. I break down in silent sobs, controlling my breathing and opening my mouth with the intention to shout. No sound comes out of it, but I'm screaming; silently screaming. Somehow, this hurts even more. My eyes are tightly shut, while I clutch my chest with one hand and hold my stomach with the other. A soul-crashing pain settles in my chest, my lungs, my stomach, my heart, everywhere. I can't breathe.

It hurts to breathe.

Maybe I should go back in and take everything back. Start again, convince him to overcome his addiction. If not for me, then for himself... his health. But, like his addiction, something in me prevents me from doing so. Call it pride or egoism, but I don't want to stay around and watch him slowly die. I've been doing just that for the past three years, and I'm just so tired.

I press my forehead against the door with my eyes closed, my cries ceasing and changing to sharp intakes of air.

"I love you," I mouth, kissing the wooden door with trembling lips.

We can make it right when I come back. We always do. This time, he will miss me so much that he will forget about the terrible but honest thing I said. I will also miss him so much and forget about his drug addiction, just for a moment. We will go back to pretending that he's not an addict and I'm not damaged goods. And, from all that pretending, the real love that we have for each other will only grow.

Mine.

We both need time away from each other to think clearly. That's the only way we will get back to each other, more in love than ever. Maybe then will he quit the drugs for me, for the love he claims to have for me. Maybe then will I have the courage to finally leave Logan, to finally forget about the string of guys I've fooled around with and settle down with Sebby.

Around eleven o' clock, you're going to be all mine, darling. My world will change everything in yours.

His voice sounds so alluring now, magical. It propels me to go to the riverbank with an almost mystical sense, like there's something greater in some part of Levittown that's far away from everything else; everything I know. His world will change everything in mine. It's a sacred promise, and I'm clinging to it for dear life. It's time for my adventure.

The promise of the future makes me smile, alleviates the pain a little. Being away from Sebby is good. It makes me think clearly, makes me more rational. I can feel my old self coming back to me with a weight of familiarity and longing. I don't know what it is that makes my true self so dangerous and blunt, but I know that it has something to do with confidence and not giving two fucks about anything.

There are no more tears --- no more pain, no more love. I am unapologetically me. The transformation is complete.

•Word count: 3,796•

This is PART ONE of chapter 42!!!! Proceed to PART TWO now to have the whole chapter, final word count, and end-of-the chapter questions from yours truly.

Feel free to correct any grammatical errors, but be kind about it. Tell me what you think of this chapter.

If you like the chapter:

vote, comment, share.

Show me love ♡ Proceed to its second part.