Celia
If I ever had a chance to get into people's minds, I'll get into Sasha's head, to find what she is thinking while looking blankly out of the window, stroking her kid's hair who was asleep in her laps. She is just like me. Or maybe I've become just like her in the past three years. We are reserved, we don't talk much. We will fill our heads with so much trash that one day I'm afraid it will burst out. I cleared my throat to get her attention. She looked at me and smiled. A fake one. I knew that with one look itself.
"A penny for your thoughts?"
"I was thinking about our future."
"Our future?"
She kissed her kid's forehead and laid him to her side. "Yeah. We need a house, a kind of house where we could fly when you or I feel sad or upset because of our future partners, the kind of place that exists just for us, a secure roof. Even when
The ride is so plain. It has no excitement or a kiss of wanderlust I've had last time. I came here on Lillian's bike alone to get out of the blood, white, and blue for some time. Back then, I wasn't aware of the fact that he was right behind me watching me, racing me and that's how he took interest in me. Now, there's a part of me wishing that he is here and we would have a little conversation we never had. These are some facts I've to admit at least to myself. When I first saw him, I was beyond fascinated. It might be his charms, his golden skin, his attitude, or the lighter. His voice is deep which is capable of leaving imprints of his vocals resonating through every nerve of my body. When I first saw him, he's just an arrogant, gorgeous pervert. When I saw him for the second time, he was a beautiful pain in the ass who succeeded in taking my breath away with a single touch. I was willing to give him what he wants with a little delay because I was that af
CeliaI feel like I'm some psycho. I should cry. Shouldn't I? He raped me. I hate him. I must take some action. I have to file a complaint. He needs to be punished. I have to rub his scent off me, sanitize my mouth to wipe off his taste. I have to shower, clean. And here I'm, sitting on my couch and doing nothing. It could've happened in a different way. I was about to make up my mind to do this thing. Don't ask me why. Maybe for my job, or to cool this fire between us. We could've done that on a bed, slowly. I'm foolish to even imagine that. He isn't a man but a beast. I should have realized that. Maybe I did. But I wasn't planning for this. My brain is a complete mess now. I am waging a war with my thoughts. I'm afraid his words might become true.** No women want it.He simply said without giving a second thought and second pause, "You do." ** Do I?
Celia** "You know what it is called." "Rape?" "No woman wants it." "You do." "You want punishment. You are thinking that you deserve it." "you are not responsible for what happened to your mom. You don't have to do it." ** Now I don't have one thing that I always had, "I don't give a fuck" attitude. Shit! This is my life. Why is it being so clueless and oblivious suddenly? Everywhere I go either my past follows or Mr. Brute crosses. Is this fate? Is there anything like that exists? I wanted to believe in it. How can't I when I'm watching him parking his car exactly in the parking lot of the bar I intended to go? I hate that car. I wanted a ride and a or few drinks alone. But he is here too. When he left, I did something stupid yet thing that satisfied my ego. I bought some sticky
Celia I have not been arrested yet. I have not imagined my day like this. I've Visioned an officer in a dress coat, assigned insignia, pressed uniform shirt, uniform pants, white gloves, a tie, and a formal police hat asking for me. That's too much imagination I guess. But no one came for me and I believe this is his doing. The day is awfully sluggish. I did what I always do and am terribly tired of doing those same things every day. My body is near to worn out since I had a twenty-four hours shift. I haven't removed my white coat when I was walking out of the hospital. My phone buzzed. I saw a text from an unknown number which says, " Come to me, NOW. Elijah will take you." Before I comprehend the text, I hit someone. My head hardly reached his chest. The pole before me is an old man in a clean shave and bald head. His eyes are pale blue. If my guess is right, he is somewhere near sixty.
Celia "Sexual blame avoidance: This is the most popular explanation. It recognizes that women’s erotic desires may trigger feelings of anxiety, guilt, and shame. How can women enjoy robust sexual fantasies without developing these feelings? Fantasize about being forced. That way, women aren’t responsible for sex and need not feel distressed about it. I was forced. It wasn’t my fault. Sexual desirability: This explanation reflects the arc of romance fiction, which is wildly popular among women (and the single largest- selling category of fiction). In romance novels, a powerful, dangerous man becomes so enthralled by the protagonist that he must have her, even if his pursuit is assaultive. Eventually, she tames him and they marry and have children. The sexual- desirability explanation says that women have rape fantasies to bolster feelings of seductiveness and desirability. I’m so hot. I drive men crazy. Sexual openness: This explanation says that women who enj
Alexander She has the audacity to ignore me! It doesn't make me back down from what I'm going to do anyway. And she knows that. This is another advantage. We don't have to speak. I'll find her and she knows that. But, what the hell is that woman? She is a kind of challenge and that's what makes her feisty. "For whom are you offering that smirk?" I sighed hearing his voice. I still regret sharing my apartment's password with him. Even if I don't, he will find a way in. "What makes the wind blow here?" He removed his suit and loosened his tie. He sat on the couch next to me before I say, "help your…" the words vanished into thin air. "Who did that to your car?" He asked. "Why exactly are you here, Xavier?" "Someone ruined your car. Tha
Celia I don't deserve this. If I'm capable, I could find someone who can treat me better, someone who would not ask me to strip but take my clothes instead, someone who will hand them when he is done screwing me instead of leaving me naked on the bed. There are absolutely many someone who would ask if I want it or not before taking a step. Of course, I want it as much as he does. It is still a wonder how my hands hastened to take his shirt off. Right then,I wanted to touch him, feel his skin against mine. It is all before I caught myself. He didn't let me take my hands back though. We met, fucked, and left. Technically, we are fuck buddies. Well, not exactly buddies. What are we? I don't expect him to be nice to me, but he can be a man right? Maybe a gentle man. Argh! It's Alexander, we are talking about. He will never be a gentleman. At the end of the day, even I'm disappointed, I'm happy, 'cause I successfully held back myself from screaming his name.
Celia It feels like someone's playing the song I dislike the most from morning to evening in my head nonstop. This constant buzzing, the sounds of metals, the smell of medicine started to wear me out. Gosh! How I hate this place and still working here! I can't even touch my locket with the hand I touched the medicine. I've to wash my hands a lot. I wanted to share this with someone, exactly with the man I despise. I wanna tell him how much I hated my job, how much I disgust it. Why do I feel like telling him all these things? Argh! What am I even thinking? I shouldn't feel like talking to him. Yeah, after everything happened between us, I am curious about him a bit, especially about his likes, his lavish life and most importantly how he talks 'cause we've never talked much. I wonder if he could laugh earnestly while telling about his best memories and keep disgusting face while telling about the things he hates the most. He is rich enou