TW: SUICIDE MENTION, RAPE MENTION
I met him at a February afternoon.
It was windy but not cold. It was most definetely not love at first sight. He was tall and he was rolling a cigarette and I was walking towards a friend of mine to say hi. He turned around and the first thing he ever said to me was: "You look fucked up." I sighed and laughed it off talking with the others as he was bombarding me with the same questions. "Can I get your number? Do you have facebook?" I submitted to his annoying repeated questions and proceeded with my day. A few days later I saw that he sent me a message askign me out, and I agreed. Armed with coffee and prepared to spend a few hours with the typical fuckboy, I saw him walking towards me with a bright smile underneath his thick beard.
His yellow teeth and his silly smile, combined with the sun shining over our heads, his strong personality and his determination won me over. It took me less than a few days to fall in love with him.
As a child, I was playful but not always cheerful. Living with schizophrenia which was passed down to me by both of my parents, occasionaly put me in states of absolute violence and illogical decisions. I would claw my father in the face, which would result in him beating me, I would scream and cry in class until my face turned purple and stand still for hours doing absolutely nothing. At the age of eight I almost jumped off a building and at the age of ten, I attempted to murder my own sister. But as I was becoming a preteen, I began to be more content and isolate myself. My teen years where the most inhumane period of my life.
At thirteen years old, I was raped. That traumatic expirience left me with a serious case of misandry and PTSD. I do not need to go into much detail other than it haunts me until today, years later. Drug abuse at fourteen was my only escape. At fifteen years old, I attempted to kill myself by hanging but my mother found me the moment I was about to end it all. I spent a year in a pshyciatric hospital trying to recover from the deep misery that began to eat me from the inside out. Nothing made me feel. I didn't want to eat, nor sleep.
When I was eventually granted an exit from the hospital, I spent a few more years locked in my house. I shaved my head completely bald, I clawed on my face daily, I didn't even bother eating. Only drank a glass of water with my medicene.
Then, I met him. He was not Prince Charming. He was almost ugly you could say. But there was something in his look, something in the way he hugged me that gave me warmth, and one thing I didn't knew even existed:
We lived together. We woke up at 10 am and I made us breakfast. He usually ate omelletes with onion and cheese and I ate waffles with chocolate spread and strawberries, no matter the season. We chatted, then we both went to work. He was working at a cafe, and I was a cashier at a toy store. I ended my shift around 6pm and returned home to find him sleeping or playing with his dog. My pizza was in the oven and I poured myself a glass of coke, we ate dinner and talked about our day. How much we hated our bosses, about a silly customer that made us laugh, or if I saw a cute cat or dog in the street. We went out to the center of the city, met up with his friends and relaxed, drinking beers, making music and walking around our miserable city. But when he was there, my life was a fairytail.
We went back home and made love, something I could not do after I was raped. He was the only one I wanted. I felt his body onto mine, our sweat mixing together and the love in everything he did to me. He whispered about love to my ear, until we fell asleep. I was usually awakened by his singing. He was also awful at the guitar. He never strummed it but he played with passion and he sang to me. But one morning, I didn't hear him sing.
That moment, She came again.
I hated her. That Bitch never left. That Bitch took me over and made me hit him so hard he bled. His dog barked and snarled at me. But when I saw him bleed, I cried. I said sorry and sorry and sorry, kissed him and kneeled down in front of him. He angrily walked away, taking his keys and leaving the house along with his dog. I sobbed and tried to clean the blood from the carpet but it wouldn't go off. I rubbed it so hard I tore it apart, then cleaned the house spotless.
I waited for him, but he didn't come. Two days later he returned to take his dog's food. When I heard the door open I ran up to him and hugged him tightly, but he didn't hug me. His hands fell to his side holding his dog's leash as I hugged him and kissed his neck. I closed the door behind him, fell to my knees and unzipped his pants. That's the only thing I did correctly. The first time, he was violent. Everything he did, he did with hatred. He finished on my face and then spit on me. That Cunt was back, now making me cry for hours as I was kneeling in front of him asking for forgiveness. He was staring at me with a pitiful look.
"Fuck you!" I shrieked. "I fucking hate you! I cannot believe you have done all of this to me! I love you so much, please stay here, I know you hate my guts but I need you!" I shireked out of my lungs making him visibly angry.
"Shut the fuck up! There are neighbours!" He said. I kept on ugly crying, drooling and slamming my fists on the floor. "You are fucking crazy. Shut up." He said and I tried to hold his hand but he pulled it away. Once his hand moved away from me, a deadly silence covered the entire house. I looked at him. In his eyes I saw my happiness dying again. He no longer loved me.
He took his things and left.
We broke up shortly after, and then, summer came. We hated each other. But one day, I apologized and we began talking again. We kind of hanged out, chatting coldly and fucking each other with no feelings. He fucked me, didn't bother to make me come and then we said our bye-byes. I loved him, and I always will.
Now, you see, love is an insane thing. Love makes you dumb and love makes you do things you couldn't imagine yourself doing.
That's why I am here, holding his dog on my lap after I fed him burgers and chicken nuggets, rubbed his belly and played with him. We shared an euthanasia shot which I made sure was deadly. His daddy is lying on his bed while his blood is spreading on the grey sheets. I didn't want to blow his head up. But I had to.
Loving someone makes it easier for you to kill them. Love makes you dumb.
His dog is too hazy to understand that his beloved owner is now deceased. So am I. I have covered the entire room in gasoline and I have a lit cigarette in my hand. When my time comes it will fall and engulf me and my babies in flames. I carried his dog which was heavier than me, and put him on the feet of his dad. I lied besides the love of my life, stroking his destroyed face. I wanted to hear him sing once more but he was already stinking of decomposition. I bit onto his lips and ripped off the flesh that was still warm. I swallowed his eyeball with ease and bit down to his neck. He reeked of rotten flesh, but I didn't stop. I wanted to be one with my baby forever.
He shouldn't have left me. We were meant to be together, whatever that means. He will be a part of me now. He tastes salty as he always did and his flesh is chewy. But he tastes better than a five-star meal. Because he is made of all the things I love. Without knowing it, I had already devoured everything that was left after I shot him in the head. I continued to maul onto his flesh with love, and reached to his heart after cracking his ribcage open. I pressed my head onto his chest and held his heart in my hand and smiled.
I took one last drag from my cigarette and made sure the dog was no longer breathing. I kissed it on the top of his snout, hugged my love tightly and tossed it to the floor. The floor quickly engulfed in flames, and I shut my eyes feeling the heat around me rise. The Bitch finally shut the fuck up. I looked at him at my last moment, and I was sure he smiled.
Not even death shall do us part.
Untill we meet again, my love.
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