If Fire Was A Lover

January 17th, 2021

Logan's hands were around my throat. I was gasping for air but the universe denied me of my right to breathe. I could feel his fingers gripping my neck, I could feel his cold tongue in my mouth, I could feel his weight crushing me, killing me, murdering me. Suddenly I screamed, loud enough to wake the dead. And then I sat up, my eyes opened, and I was just in my room. My light was still on because I hadn't been able to sleep in the dark. I grabbed my throat to make sure his hands were not on it. I stood and checked my entire room to be sure that he was not there watching me sleep. When I fell asleep again, I was holding my bible between my hands. Though I often despised God, if he existed, somehow the Bible was the only thing that brought me peace of mind.

Later that morning I woke up around nine, Blake had stopped by with flowers and a redbull. He laughed as I rolled out of bed and told me that even when I had first woken up I was the most beautiful girl he'd ever seen.

"I painted this for you," Blake said as he handed me a rock. I smiled down at it. There was a small painting of two people dancing under the stars, and above them it read; "You are beautiful." It was such a small gift, yet I knew it would be one that I'd keep forever.

"Blake, this is so sweet, thank you so much." I replied, my words quiet. He looked into my eyes and held his gaze for a minute or two. His face had very strong features, he was very handsome. I appreciated that he wasn't tall, because when he looked at me he was never looking down at me, just holding eye contact. I thought about little things like that a lot, and it was nice that I didn't have to be conscious of things like that around him. There was no need to feel like I had to do better or be better, because he actually liked me. He would let me talk about my books, he told me about his favorite songs, he told me about the way he viewed love, and how his family shaped him to be the person he was. I loved how open he was with me, I think I was just relieved to have a meaningful conversation with a boy that didn't have to end in anything sexual.

He sat down on my purple bean bag as I pulled a large sweater over my head. "Hey, so I wanted to ask you about something, I'm sure it's just a rumor," Blake said. I tried to stay calm as I turned to face him.

"What is it?" I asked him softly.

"It's about Logan August, some people were telling me that I shouldn't waste my time because you guys were probably together. Is it true?" He asked me.

"Of course not, no. He's a family friend. I spend a lot of time with him because he's next door neighbors with my aunt and all of my cousins. I promise, I would rather be seeing anyone in the world, but I'd really love to be seeing you." My words came out smooth and he didn't question them. I hated how easy it was for me to lie, but it's not like I could tell the truth. What else was I supposed to say? That I wasn't sure if Logan was assaulting me every night or if  was okay with it all? That he left bruises on me and I had to buy a new concealer that actually worked because it was no longer just for blemishes? That I'd been lying to my family and completely betrayed my older brother? That Logan made me want to die but I also wanted to be with him more than I wanted to live? Blake wouldn't understand that. I didn't even understand it. Loving someone like Logan is not a feeling that is comprehensible.

Blake talked with my mother while I took a shower, I could hear them both laughing from inside the bathroom. It made me happy to know that they got along. My mother was my whole world, if she didn't approve then neither did I, that was all there was to it. That's why I never told her about Logan, I knew she'd hate him for everything that he did to me. But Blake was warm, he was sunlight, he was spontaneous and romantic, he knew how to make me laugh. My mother loved Blake, my whole family did. Even my older brother had taken a liking to him, which I thought was crazy. He never thought anyone was good enough for me, but Blake impressed him.

When I got out of the shower Blake sat with me and watched my favorite show as I painted the nails. I noticed him noticing me and it made me smile. He didn't try to hold my hand or my thigh, he didn't try to kiss me, he didn't try to hold me, he was just fine with sitting in each other's company. It was nice to sit with someone. I felt guilty for thinking about Logan while I was with Blake, but I couldn't stop myself. I wished that Logan could restrain himself from all the touching. If Blake could hold back, how hard could it be? Really, how difficult could it be to respect one's space and physical boundaries? Blake had no problem with it at all, and it made me like him even more.

As the sun set, Blake went home after thanking me for such a wonderful time. I cried when he walked through the door. No, come back, I thought. Tell me you can love me without hurting me, I wanted to yell. But I didn't say anything at all. I just went to my room. I traced my fingers over the rock Blake painted for me. It felt heavy in my hands, in a comforting way. Blake was everything I wanted in a boy, but that's what made me so hesitant to go all in. He was trying to feed me love on a silver spoon, and it felt like a threat due to all of the knives I had previously been fed with. It felt like a form of deceit.