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crypticD — Say the Words
Published: 2010-12-13 01:57:10 +0000 UTC; Views: 184; Favourites: 0; Downloads: 4
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I can't...She sat there and stared out the window, her breath fogging up the glass. The snow fell almost melancholic, and her mood delved deeper into darkness with every descending flake. She sighed to herself, the events of the night before playing over and over in her mind. She ground her teeth in frustration.
Why did she let him do it? Why did she do it? Why didn't she say no to him or stop herself?
The questions echoed in her mind to the point where she was almost ready to pull her hair out by the root. She hated herself. She hated him. She felt as though she had been used but had also used him in the process.
Her nails buried themselves deep into her palms, and her hands began to ache painfully from the force. Regret upon regret seemed to pile up within her, and she just couldn't force them back into the hole she'd specially made for them in her soul.
Her intentions had been pure when she went to him. She didn't mean for anything to happen-- she didn't even want anything to happen. So why did it? Because she was weak. Because she was lonely. Because she wanted to see what it was like, what it took to do such things.
The actions left a hollow feeling within her.
She felt so empty, so... emotionless. She didn't care, and that fact bothered her incredibly.
She pressed her balled fist against her forehead and wished she'd had a different reaction, wished that what had happened actually meant something to her.
But, alas, it didn't.
And it made her feel disgusting.
She wasn't attracted him, emotionally or physically. She didn't love him. Hell, she barely even liked him.
But still, she let him touch her.
Her skin crawled at the thought, and she almost wished she'd pushed him away and endured the cold and snow to venture off to a nearby friend's house. The night most likely would've turned out so much better.
Stop it. No, she couldn't. She deserved the belittlement she was inflicting upon herself. She deserved every bit of it.
Why couldn't she just like him? Why couldn't she have felt something when he touched her? Her body had reacted to his caresses, but just barely. The physical aspects had not even melted the ice upon her flesh, the ice that kept her from feeling anything.
She wished it had been someone else. Maybe then a fire would have lit inside her. Maybe then her body would have thawed and her skin would have tingled from the grasps of his hands and his lips brushing against her skin.
Her body would have throbbed with the need to be against him. Her skin would have been seared from the heat of his being.
It would have felt wonderful had she actually cared.
I can't...
She let her head thonk against the glass window, and another sigh escaped her mouth.
Why did this have to be so difficult? Why did she feel as though she had to have feelings for him? So many other girls she knew just messed around with guys for the hell of it. It was nothing to them-- just another weekend. Why couldn't she be like that?
She would have been fine if he had never mentioned what had happened ever again. She would have happily left it as it was and never touched him again. She had finally experienced it, so she didn't see the need to participate in such things once more unless she couldn't help it, unless she cared enough to do so.
But he wouldn't let it go.
He questioned what had happened. He was unsure of himself, his feelings, and his intentions. He was unsure of hers as well. He asked so many questions when she just wanted it to mean as much to him as it meant to her-- nothing.
She wished he would have dismissed the night before, wished he would have brushed it away just like most of her friends did with guys.
But he had to make something out of it. He had to see what it was, where it could go.
But she didn't want to. She couldn't even consider it.
I can't...
There was only one man she wanted to touch her the ways this one had attempted to, and that man was gone. Out of her life. She was practically delusional when it came to thinking about him, but he was something she clung to, something that helped keep her stable when she was on the brink of insanity. Her hope to see him again, her hope to have his touch, his love... It was one of the few things that kept her alive, regardless of how endlessly it seemed to crush whatever hopes she had left.
She thought of that man and how she would have felt had he been the one she was with the night before. Her stomach immediately dipped pleasantly. Unfortunately, the reality of who that night had actually been spent with loomed in her mind and ruined the fantasy she'd been creating.
I--
Her phone vibrated and chimed as it sat on the windowsill, and she prayed to whatever god would listen that it wasn't him.
It was.
He wanted to see her.
Guilt, as it always did, ate away at her. She wanted to tell him that she couldn't be with him, that the thought was... well... extremely off-putting, to put it lightly. Still, he barraged her with more questions and more flirts and more comments and--
She felt the need to scream. She didn't want this. She couldn't do this. She hated this. She hated her obligation to him. She hated the fact that she wouldn't allow herself to be straight-forward with him, as it'd seem cruel in her eyes. She hated that things were now expected of her. She hated that there was no way to avoid seeing him again. She hated that no matter what she said or did-- positive or negative-- her social circle would be affected. She loved her friends. She was almost positive they wouldn't choose him over her, but... How would he feel if they chose her over him?
It seemed wrong to bring forth such a situation, whether or not it would be influenced by speaking the truth. How she was going about this now wasn't right... Leading him on or letting him think there was a possibility of a deeper relationship... That in itself was cruel.
Why couldn't she just bring herself to say the words to him?
She wanted this to be easier. She wished that someone else would tell him for her without her having to see whatever distraught he might display.
She didn't want to touch him anymore. She didn't want to think of him anymore. She didn't want him to have been the one she touched...
She didn't want this, him, at all.
But how would she tell him?
I. Can't.
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Comments: 1
"She felt as though she had been used but had also used him in the process." is an awkward sentence.
"Because she was weak. Because she was lonely. Because she wanted to see what it was like, what it took to do such things." perfectly articulates the answer to the question posed.
This is a nice stylistic piece, but i feel like you could do more to it to make it a great story. It won't take much. Just some rephrasing and striking. Your character is well developed, so don't do anything that would change that. (I actually quite like her)
to answer you P.P.S, this doesn't need a warning.
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