"I'm locked inside
A land called foolish pride
Where the man is always right
He hates to talk but loves to fight
Is that all right?
On real cold days
He loans us lots of hate
But he says that we must pay
To take it all away
Is that ok?"
-Janelle Monae
*Hanna*
I wiped the sleep from my eyes and readjusted my glasses. Walking in a direction I was all too familiar with, I cursed my mind for remembering the route instantaneously. What was I doing? Why did I find the need to be there every chance I got? Knowing HE is there, always waiting and lurking in the shadows like a gotdamn entity. I knew the answer, my heart knew the answer to a question my brain couldn't form, couldn't compute, calculate.
As much as I hated him with every fiber of my being.... I loved him. And love was enough.
This whole thing had begun with just one visit. As I walked along the familiar route, I thought about the first time I had become his addict. As my knuckles tapped the window of his front door, I prayed he wouldn't be home, just so I could save a piece of the self-integrity I was losing grip of rapidly. With every second of waiting, it was slipping away, trickling down from me like water on a duck's back. Just his eyes could do this alone. By the time, I got around to his lips, I'd already be melted into a puddle of selfless-ness. He did that to me. Effortlessly.
The door opened and HE stood their, in all is bare-naked glory. The veins in his neck protruding as he took deep ragged breaths. He smelled of sex. His lips were red as cherries and swollen like they'd been abused by some other girl. His eyes held a commanding gaze and his jaw was tight. I looked down, catching a glance at the monster he called his dick. I imagined the reason it looked moist was because it had just been plunged deep into walls that weren't mine. It hurt. Like hell. He reached his statuesque arm out to touch my face, lifting my chin so I could look him in the eyes.
"What do you need, Hanna?" his voiced poured out like warm syrup. I closed my eyes, not able to bear the electric sting of his deep gaze. When he looked at me, I was sure he could see my soul.
"Hanna?" he asked, sounding impatient. I opened my eyes, his hard gaze replaced with concerned one.
"I-I...." I couldn't tell him what I didn't know. I had no clue what I was doing here. I didn't know what I needed from him. How the hell was I supposed to tell him that what I needed was whatever he could give me?
"Kwan, come back to bed, baby. I'm cold, come warm me up." called a sultry voice from behind him. The voice giggled in delight and was once again silenced.
His eyes never wavered. It was as if he hadn't even heard it. I almost thought I'd imagined it until he spoke.
"Chill. I'm handlin' somethin'." he spoke. He bent down to come closer to my face, his lips hovering close to mine before he spoke again.
"Hanna, what do you need?" he asked again, his voice taking a new tone. It was as if he had dared me to say the secret thoughts that were only reserved for my wet dreams. I always thought Kwan knew how I felt about him, but never said anything because he didn't feel the same. But at times, times like this, it was as if he was giving me lead-way to confess my every desire. Maybe even daring me to.
