A Darkest Nightmare

Hush,’ he said, ‘hush. Yes, it has to be given.'And he kissed my eyelids again, then my lips, the way he did when he cut the motor on the boat when we’d been together. And the kiss continued on past the point where he usually broke off. Then, slowly, he pulled away.

I groped for him, as though I were blind. 'Haze, please, please—’ My lips touched his. And he was kissing me again, and slipping the brief nightgown over my head. His intense and soft hands began to stroke me, his hands, his lips, his tongue. Soft. Not alarming. Knowing what he was doing. I felt my nipples rise, and it started me.

‘Shhh,’ he whispered. 'Shh, it’s all correct, don’t worry, just relax and listen to your body.

He was slow, rhythmic, gentle, moving down my body, down … and I was nothing but my body there was a sharp brief pain and then a sweet spasm went through me and I seemed to rise into the air.

No more pain than just the Sweetness.

And then, haze, panting. I pressed him hard against me.

We were naked now, crouched over his mouth on me. He drew my hair around them like a tent. Like a children did when they wanted to exclude the outside world. I slid further down, introducing myself to the rest of him. His neck. His nipples. His tanned stomach. I sipped the last of the river from the hollow of his navel. I pressed the heat of his erection against my eyelids. I tasted him, salty, and sweet was his mouth. He sat up and drew me back to him. I felt his belly tighten under me, hard as a board. I felt my wetness slipping on his skin. He took my nipple in his mouth and cradled my other breast in his calloused palm. Velvet gloves in sandpaper.

" That's enough, Haze!"" I forced him to move away from me, and he tilted his head to meet my eyes.His mouth would have given despair to even the drollest of fools; it was a mouth made for frowns and scowls and sharply worded commands, all thin pale lips and clenched muscles, a mouth that had forgotten how to smile and had never known how to laugh.

He peeled himself off of me, I can see the veins on his temples popped up and he clutched his hand in to fist. In a smooth, unhurried motion, Haze reached out and slapped me hard across my face.

I snapped, opened my eyes. No!" I wrestled with the covers, as tears fell unchecked down my cheeks. The night, terror had seemed all too real.The stinging slap echoed on my skin, and I pressed a palm to my tender face.Annoyed at my weakness, I bundled myself in blankets and padded barefoot to the deck.

Everything seems quiet outside but my heart was pounding out of my chest. Why can't I just delete every single memory out of my mind? Why can't he vanish from my life? Why are these scars still stinking?

It's been four years since I broke the cage of Haze but still he is tormenting me. He always has this dominance on me that I'll never forget even if he wasn't present. Every single inch of my skin craves for his touch yet wanting to never be touched by him again.

I realized you took away the one thing that truly belonged to me. My emotions used to belong to me. I guess I should thank you for Stripping away my guilt, my empathy, and my ability to feel for others. Maybe thank you for teaching me how to manipulate, to never let emotions be weaponized I see against me. Is it a good or a bad thing? To never love? To find & hate? To be numb? To pretend to feel it? To be able to use emotions against others. There are so many instances where I sit down and just wish with everything inside that I could feel something except anger, just wish for a single tear so I can let out the pain but it's even getting worse day by day, hour by hour and second by second.

" You can do this, man!"" I just need to don't think about Hum,"" I repeated this phrase all night sitting on the deck, until the darkness of night began to clear.The stars in the sky began to grow dim. The eastern horizon of the earth glows with orange colored light. The sun looks like a ring of fire.

I returned to the house and cruised into the kitchen. There has always been something about sitting at the kitchen table at this hour. Alone, surrounded by the dark quiet. The volume of my thoughts hiked up a few notches against it, the only thing that attempts to cut into silence. This is the only time I can feel like the only breathing soul on earth. An eerie and unsettling feeling for most, a mollifying comfort to me. It’s why my bouts of transient insomnia aren’t a total inconvenience. If I can’t beat it, I’ll eagerly join it. 7 am is loud and green on the microwave as I pour myself a cup of coffee and crack open the little window that sits directly above my kitchen table. Introducing a perfect view of the nocturnal world outside. I opened the laptop to check some emails.

I lost track of time and found myself staring at the screen, but I was interrupted by the knock on the front door.

I shut the laptop and looked at the clock, and it's read 11 O'clock. 

" I wasn't expecting anyone today, then who could that be?"

I got from the chair and opened the kitchen drawer and took a knife out of it. I swirl, holding a sharp knife behind my back. I plopped towards the front door, my mind occupied with so many worst seniors and thoughts.

I paused and stared at the white door for a few moments and again the door knocked. I sucked up the last breath left inside me and outstretched my hand to open the door...