Loving this beast will kill you pt.1

4th of August, 2016

This was my first moment. I was born out of the controlled breaths of a sixteen-year-old girl laying on a fold-out sofa made from blue fabric, settled in the middle of her childhood room. There is a TV in front of it and a desk behind it. There’s a bed in the corner, snugly fitted in between the fully stocked bookcase and the white wall which is randomly covered with a print of small blue leaves. I know this room inside out.

Five years from this moment, she will set that sofa on fire in the woods surrounding her home. She will watch it engulfed in a bright green flame, warming up her body and making her believe in rebirth, revenge, and momentarily even some sort of God.

But for now, I find myself in her room. It is small but tidy, except for the many glasses rimmed with stolen whisky, disguised as innocent water glasses that she’s too lazy to put away. I lay down on the familiar fabric next to her pinned down body, as the ghost of other haunted days, completely undetected by the girl I once was and the boy that she loves. I follow her eyes to the chandelier and the plastic crystals hanging from it, and we both watch them move ever so slightly to the rhythm of the young man on top of her.

I was born from the tears rolling down the side of her cheekbone which he is pretending not to see. I know that he is thinking about how the tears make her eyes look bigger and how they bring her face to life by making it red and swollen. He has told her before how pretty she is when she cries. He also told her that he would never hurt her, I remember it all. I look into his eyes, and I know how much she loved them, even now, even then. I listen to the grunts he tries to quiet down so that my parents don’t hear them from the bedroom upstairs, where they sleep calmly knowing that their daughter is loved. I smell the sweat running down his bicep and onto the dark blue fabric underneath. I put my hand on her cheek and I tell her that I’m sorry.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t protect you, I’m sorry I couldn’t save you.”

But she can’t hear me, and I can’t stop him. I lay next to her until he can’t help but groan out loud in pleasure and pulls himself out of her, coming on her stomach. She lays there for a while without moving as he throws her his underwear to wipe it off. He sits up and looks back at her over his shoulder. I don’t need to look at him to remember his grin, I have seen it so many times before and I’ve heard what he is going to say. But for her, it’s the very first time.

“When you say no, you don’t actually mean it, right?”

I whisper in her ear to grab a kitchen knife and cut his dick off. I tell her to throw it out the window and watch as the birds rip it apart and he bleeds out dry, holding the little piece of skin where his pride used to be attached. But she can’t hear me.

“Of course not.”

She turns her back to me, and he lays down on the other side, stroking a bit of her fringe to the side of her forehead and I know what he is thinking. He looks at her hands and the finger where a ring used to be, and he thinks that it’ll be right back where it should be soon, that he is so lucky that she is his, that this body belongs to nobody else but him.

“I love you,” he says softly.
“I love you too”.

I wrap my arm around her waist, but she will never even know it is there. With tears in the back of my throat, I tell her that tomorrow won’t feel so bad, you’ll stop bleeding almost right away and in a few days, it will stop hurting.
“One day, you won’t love him at all, and you’ll smile so much, and the best parts of your life haven’t even started yet.”
I try to make her hear me, but I know that she can’t.
“You will leave this house and love a lot of people. Good people. And they’ll love you too, just you wait.”