Day 137 Short Story #5

This is probably my favorite story that I've written. It might be because I took the time to edit this one. 

I Know That You Love Me

Look at where we are.

   You were drinking again. I told you not to drive. I told you. But, you convinced me that it was okay, that you were fine. But, I told you didn’t I? You weren’t fine. You were driving like a maniac, and I told you slow down. I told you to stop the car, and let me. I told you, but you never listen to me.

  I am so pissed with you. Every time we go to one of your friend’s homes you have to get yourself drunk. Every time. You just have to go ahead and embarrass me. You drive around vandalizing property with your little drunk friends, and for what? You say that you’re proving a point. You’re proving a point to the world, that you have a voice, and that you’re loud and whatever. I think you’re too loud. You’re just too loud.

  I am so upset that my thoughts are just a blur of anger.

  I yell at you to get a real life. I yell at you to stop vandalizing other people’s property. I yell that you’re breath smells horrible, and that you need to just leave me alone for a little while. You need to just leave me alone.

  Just leave me alone.

  Just leave me alone.

  I never wanted to be the girlfriend of the bad boy. I never wanted that. I don’t know how I got here. No one knows how I got here. My friends ask me over and over again how I got here, and I just don’t know how I did. I don’t know. I never wanted this. Just leave me alone. I never wanted to get pulled over by the police. I never wanted to be your lookout while you spray-paint our initials onto the side of someone’s house. I never wanted that. I don’t even know why I’m still here. Why am I still here? Why am I still with you?

  The truth is that I'm lying to myself, because I know why. The attention is my reason to stay. Your eyes are flooding with adoration and your passionate gazes are thick with that four-letter-word that drives me so crazy and has transformed me into a weak person I don't recognize. Even now that you’re drunk, you still look at me in that magical way. Every step you take is still daring me to move towards you. Your smile is sweet yet confident, and every word whispered into my ear possesses such hypnotic qualities that I just… I just want to… 

  I’m crying on the side of the road, my body facing the woods to the right of the car. You approach me from behind, and rest your hands on my waist. My tears are cascading down my face and blurring my vision of the trees and I press my eyes shut. Squeezing and cursing myself, because I know what's going to happen next. Don't do it. Don't let him. You're strong. His kisses don't mend. They break. They break. They break. You spin me around, and press your lips to my forehead. Broken. Crying. Fire and Lights. Flying. Adventure. Freedom. Love. Passion. Anger. Blood. It's love. It's love. It's love. 

Don't do it. 

 The smell of alcohol is pervasive, and as I’m about to fall into the trap I whisper that I want to break up with you. I’m done. It's over?

  A mumble's never taken so much effort. 

  You caress my chin with the hand that is not at my waist and you tell me that you love me. You tilt my chin towards you and kiss me on the lips this time, your hand steady and warm on the side of my face. When I open my eyes,  I see that you're crying too, and you look so pathetic and sorry. You're sorry, you'll be better next time. It's going to get better.

  You say it again and again, as if I couldn’t hear you.

  “I love you. I love you. I love you.”

  But, I know. I know that you love me. That’s the problem.

  I know.