Tainted Souls [ #wattys2015 ]

: ninteen

Hickeys, red and bright and bordering on shades of blue and purple litter my throat. Right under my ears and right on my collarbone, they mar my skin, looking like the mismatched strokes of a paintbrush.

It's hard not to notice them (though I genuinely care less if anyone does) and not hard to smile whenever I think of how they came.

They're visible for all to see, my shirt only covering up the ones that are at my sternum and clavical, but I don't mind. I brave it with a straight face, even when Sebastian asks me where they came from, a smirk on his lips.

He laughs a little, muttering to himself that he bets that I was good in bed and that the chick who put them there must have been mad as hell, but I don't really pay much attention.

I smile at him slyly, "Something like that."

But it wasn't some chick at Dan's crazy party on Saturday that out them there
- it was you.

You in your leather jacket and with your cigarettes in your pocket.

You with the greasy hair and the laugh that broke me. You with the whiskey on your breath and the smoke still rising from your scarred lips, even as the wet things trailed down, down, down my body until I forgot how to speak anymore.

You with your devastatingly addicting and debilitating lifestyle, were the one who put those hickeys there. You were the one who left my back looking like your lips, red and angry.

You, you were the one who made me feel like I was soaring.

Not some whore that Sebastian would fuck - not a chick - and it certainly wasn't some conquest I'd forget.

(How could I forget you? How could I forget your marks?)

It was something more - abeit, a tainted, fucked-up kind of more, something that couldn't be said with words, only with kisses and touches.

And I didn't mind, not a bit, but my heart snapped slightly when I thought of it.

You were drunk, high on ecstasy, and speaking words that I didn't even understand, and yet you fucking cared - I could tell by the way you grinned, by the way you ran your hands over my back as if I were porcelain, by the way your lips hardly touched mine.

I fucking knew, as soon as I saw you, I knew it.

But if you would to remember today what you did, I didn't know, and a part of me didn't even want to know if the small smiles and the hazy murmurs were real.

Because just imagining them was just enough.

[dedicated to pinkycupcake bc i don't give her enough credit or enough time. i'm sorry]