How can you love someone so much and let them go? Is it possible to not shatter on the inside? To not self-destruct? I’m trying to work this out, but nothing is coming to mind. He’s looking at the sky, my body tired, and sore. He tied me to the truck, my hands were pulled above my head. I couldn’t do anything. He had all the power. I let him have all the power like I let him have anything of me he asks for or doesn’t ask for. Even, my heart.
A part of me wishes I could ask for it back—I want my heart back. I want to not feel broken inside. I want to feel me. I can’t, all I feel is for him.
He steals my thoughts.
He steals my heart.
He stole my soul.
He fucked me twice, there was no love involved, it was purely sexual. Though now when his hands skim over every part of me, I know it’s all love, it’s him trying to show me in ways he can’t explain to me.
The sun is rising, I awoke to his hands drawing on my back, tickling me. Now they’re on my sides, rubbing so tenderly, up and down as he slides in and out of me. We didn’t get much sleep, we hardly spoke, unless it was in cries of pleasure. Now our time is almost up, and it’s time to say goodbye. Till when? Well, that I don’t know. But I really want to.
I bite his lip, his hands gliding to my ass, pushing me to the brink and even further, deeper, harder, softer. All at once, his lips have touched every part of my body, loved every part of me. I watch him with interest as he does it. His eyes close with each kiss. Sometimes I hear him breathing harder, smelling me.
He picks me up, and I straddle his lap. His eyes, heaven and hell.
“What am I meant to do without you?” I ask him.
He lays his head on my shoulder, not knowing how to answer me. “Live Rose, just live. Without the dilemma that comes with loving me,” he speaks, his lips pressed to me, not lifting his head.
“What do you mean?”
He stays where he is, me on his lap, his cock still inside of me, and his head on my shoulder. “I damage people, I damaged you.”
I pull back, making his head snap up. “You damaged me?”
He nods his head.
I cover my breasts. He didn’t complain or look at them like they were damaged. He watches me and pulls my hands free and shakes his head.
“Your body is perfect. I’m talking about damaging you mentally, Rose. I have damaged you, made you believe in only loving me, and that you can only have me. You can have more, so much more.”
“You did no such thing! You can’t make someone fall in love, Liam. It’s nature, it’s who we’re pulled to. It’s who our heart wants. I am not damaged for loving you. No, if anything, I survived by loving you.” His lips are fast as they land on mine.
We packed up quietly, neither of us speaking again. I had to have time to process what he was saying. He thinks being with me causes me pain, that everything that has happened is his fault. I see it now, it’s not just the work, the life he knows. He’s afraid.
Liam Black is afraid.
He’s afraid of losing me forever.
It’s safer to keep me away.
But it doesn’t work like that.
I will give him the time he needs, then I want him back. I’ve done this before, I’ve survived without him, and I can do it again. This time better, because I know he’s alive.
His shades cover his eyes when he drives, so I don’t know what he’s thinking. You can read him better when looking into his eyes. His face never gives anything away. It’s always stoic. Never moving.
He comes to a stop in front of the house, looking at it and not me. I often wonder what goes through his head, I have a need to know what he’s thinking. He’s not good with words.
“Are you coming in?” I ask turning to face him. He doesn’t answer or look at me straight away. He sits there, quite still.
“Liam?”
“No.”
“When will I see you next?” He shakes his head at me. Telling me no. “You can’t cut yourself from me, Liam. I won’t let you do that. You can’t do that. You have a child.”
“That child has done fine without me, Rose.” He turns then, looks at me for a second and goes back to looking at the house.
“You’re his father, and you’re alive. Stop being a selfish prick and grow some fucking balls.” My outburst doesn’t affect him, but it makes me angrier. So when I get out from the car, I slam the door and don’t look back as I enter the house. I know I shouldn’t have, I should have said goodbye, and I should have kissed him one last time. Because when I look out my window, he’s no longer there.
You may find this odd, I find it odd. But in my room, in a drawer in a box, I have Liam’s cards. His play cards, ones that aren’t so much for play, but for destruction. Jake brought them to me after I asked him one day to get them. He didn’t want to, they’re not a keepsake, but they were to me. He always carried them around with him, always one in his pocket. I wanted them, I wanted them close to me. It was something he always had on him, even in his darkest moments, he still carried them around.