I haven’t slept in two days.
I’ve called Pixie about a million times. She’s probably sick of me but I don’t care. I also don’t care that she told me to stop looking for her. She’s not thinking straight. There’s no way I’ll ever stop looking.
No way.
I’m gonna keep looking for her until I find her, and then throw her over my shoulder and lock her up. I will tie her to the bed and fuck her and fuck her until she forgets everything else but me. Or until I put a baby in her and she can’t run from me again.
I found her journal.
I can’t believe that I haven’t ever read it. I’ve watched her write in her journals for years. She gets an adorable wrinkle on her nose when she’s focusing, and sometimes she’ll even say the words out loud. Nothing that I can make out, but I’ll hear a slight hum.
It used to make me grab her and kiss all the words out of her pretty mouth.
It’s been too long since I touched her, since I’ve been inside her. I see her clothes, neatly folded, barely taking up any space in the room, and I have to stop and smell the fabric. My dick gets hard every time, thinking that she’s close. Her wet heat is within reach. But no. I won’t even give it my fist. I don’t want to. I never want to again. My dick belongs in her pussy and I won’t stop until I get it there.
She’d call me a weirdo but I don’t care. I’m not afraid to show how I feel. How she makes me feel. Crazy, out of control, obsessed.
Maybe that’s the problem. Maybe I love her a little too much. Maybe I smother her with my love, with my obsession.
We need to find out who we are without each other. Because if we don’t know that, then how can we ever love each other?
Does it mean that she doesn’t love me? Or at least doesn’t love me as much as I love her? Because if she does, then how can she take this? How can she take being away from me? Doesn’t it torture her? Doesn’t every breath she takes scrape against her throat? Though there isn’t any other choice but to breathe.
Sitting here on the dirty mattress, the mattress where I’ve loved her, fucked her, worshipped her a million times, I wonder if she thinks about me. If she wonders what I’m doing. How I’m living without her. Where do I sleep? Do I sleep?
I guess she knows the answer to that, doesn’t she?
I’m trying to look for clues in her journal, trying to see if I can find something that will lead me to her. So far, all the entries are about me. It makes me weirdly happy and satisfied.
It’s from her senior year, the year when we could hardly see each other because of what went down with me and Duke two years ago.
At church today, Abel looked mad. He wouldn’t look at me for the longest time because my mom thrust the prom date with Duke on my head. Gah. I hate Duke Knight so much, and I love Abel Adams so much.
I saw him in town today. We smiled at each other from across the street but then I saw my mom walking out of the deli and I had to turn away. Though I saw him clenching his teeth. Gosh, I want to hug him and tell him it’s going to be okay.
Sometimes I feel like he might break up with me, you know. It’s so hard to be in this relationship. My mom’s a hawk, man. She won’t let me do anything.
I’ve noticed that we fight a lot these days. I know he’s angry but please God, let him hold on a bit longer.
I hear Pixie’s voice in my head: You’re so angry, Abel. You’re so mad at them.
Isn’t that obvious? Of course, I’m mad. Look at what they made us go through. Even now, just reading these bits makes my blood boil.
After Pixie’s phone call, I dreamed of my parents, a conversation I overheard that changed my life. I haven’t been to their graves or to my neighborhood since we got here. I don’t think I can deal.
“Lia, you’ve gotta stop, okay?”
“But what if it’s true, huh? What if it comes true this time?”
“It’s not going to come true. Look at Abel. He’s fine. He’s the best kid we know.”
“I know. He’s perfect so we need to stop while we’re ahead. Father Knight said that children like these, children of closely related parents come out wrong. I-I can’t condemn my baby to that. I can’t… It’s too hard. We need to get rid of it. We can’t tempt fate.”
“Lia, baby. Listen to me, we’re here. In this city, okay? We’re out of there. Forget what they said. Forget everything. We don’t have to be scared anymore. We don’t have to run.”
They were talking about a baby, weren’t they? My mom must’ve been pregnant. I don’t have a sibling so I assume they got rid of it. At the time, I was only concerned with who Father Knight was and what the hell did closely-related parents mean.
That night I found out the reason why my parents weren’t married. I found out what their real names were: David and Delilah. I knew them as Lia and Daniel. They changed their names when they moved here because they had been afraid.
They were running.
Am I doing the same thing? Am I running? And if I am, how the fuck do I stop?