If Fire Was A Lover

January 25th, 2021

Logan hadn't texted me in a few days. It felt horrible being ignored by him. Blake texted me everyday, and most days would come over after work to give me redbull and a hug. It almost made up for the absence of Logan, but not quite. Blake was sweet, but Logan was dangerous. He was mean, he made me feel everything that there was to feel. It was overwhelmingly beautiful. If there is a God, he'll have to beg for my forgiveness for making me love someone like Logan. Logan consumed all of my thoughts.

He took up every part of me that used to be my own, and now it was only his, I was only his. I couldn't focus on anything when Logan didn't speak to me. I would stay up until the sun rose and I would show up late to school everyday. I sat through my classes staring at the carpet, unable to get any work done. I came home and slept, I wouldn't eat, I wouldn't speak. There was no reason to.

I was nothing if not a lover girl, and when there was nobody to suck the life out of me, I didn't know what to do with myself. When I was not being loved, I didn't know how to exist. When being ignored by Logan, I became a different person. I was more of a ghost than I was human. I wandered around my house in my silk nightgowns and I prayed that he would soon find a reason to need me again. I didn't care what the reason was, I just needed him to need me. I hated that I let my emotions rely solely on one person's actions, or lack thereof, but I couldn't help myself, not with him. I dreamt of Logan during the day. I imagined him coming up to me in front of all of my friends and all of his friends and picking me up. I'd imagine him kissing the top of my head and telling me that I was beautiful and that he was sorry for treating me the way that he did. In my daydream he would promise me to never hurt me again, he would tell me that we never had to do anything sexual ever again, and I would cry and smile and hold him tight. But that wasn't real, it didn't exist.

Blake called me, I didn't pick up. I was going to, but then I saw a text from Logan. I immediately pressed decline to Blake's call and read Logan's text. It said he was on his way with his dad, that they were going to pick me up and take me to their house. I beamed down at my phone, so happy that I almost cried. I felt pathetic that his texting me affected me so much, but I also didn't really care. I hadn't told anyone, so only I knew how pathetically in love I was, and of course Logan knew. I put on some mascara and blush, trying to look alive, like I hadn't spent the last few days trying to rot away in my bedroom.

I wanted to look pretty for him. I noticed that when I didn't wear makeup, he would just do as he pleased, and there were no pretty words to sugar coat the fact that he was taking advantage of me. But when I wore some makeup he would tell me that I was beautiful. He'd tell me he was so lucky to have me, that I was the prettiest girl in the whole world, and he would sprinkle my face in soft kisses. I would wear pretty underwear knowing that he'd see it. He always saw it. And he'd tell me it was pretty, and then he'd rip it off of me and kill me slowly. How devastatingly romantic, wasn't it?

The headlights on Terrance's truck lit up the whole driveway and I raced out the door to meet Logan. He was in the back seat when I got into the truck. He pulled me close to Jim and rested his hand on my thigh.

"Happy late birthday, sweetheart!" Terrence said. I could see him smiling in the rearview mirror. He was truly such a sweet man.

"Thank you," I said shyly. Logan kissed my neck quietly as I prayed that Terrence wouldn't notice. Logan smelled like Old Spice and tools. Every time he was close to me, the smell of him trapped itself inside my lungs and held my heart hostage. There was no peace with Logan anymore, even in the quiet, even when he wasn't touching me, just being around him was enough to set me off. Just thinking of him was enough to drive me crazy. I wanted to tell him how I daydreamed about him. But I didn't want to break his heart. I knew it would hurt him if I told him that my fantasies consisted of him apologizing and promising to be a better person for me. It hurt me too. The drive was quiet and slow. I watched all of the houses we passed wondering what was going on in each one. Behind every closed door, every curtained window, how many girls were laying in a twin bed, demobilized, crying, making "love" to their partner like I knew I was about to be? I hoped the answer was none.

Logan carried me from the truck up the stairs and into his room. He gently threw me onto the bed and clobbered me which made me laugh. But it didn't last long, it never did. We could joke for a minute or two, talk for a few minutes, stare at each other for a minute, and then it was just bound to happen. I was expected to give it up, and I didn't want to lose him, so I did. That night I cried the entire time. He flipped me over and shoved my face into the mattress, suffocating me. I wanted to scream but I could hardly breathe. My muffled sobs didn't phase him in the slightest. I was used to the pain, to the guilt of sometimes feeling pleasure, to the vomit that came to my mouth that I had to swallow because he made me sick. But I wasn't used to what he did next. I felt his hand inside of me, but they were not destroying my femininity this time, no, it was much worse. He assaulted me anally as I wept, and he kept whispering that he loved me.

I finally did scream. I screamed into his mattress and I felt him hit me on the back of the head. He yanked my hair so my face lifted to meet him.

"Shh," he warned.

I contained myself immediately, shocked that he hit me and of what he was doing to my body. It felt like it went on for days. The time dragged on, and my dignity was like a hand waving from a train that I knew I could not board. I would never catch up with it, I would never get a ticket to that train. I would not exist on the same track as it. I looked back at him, horrified and confused, and he smiled down at me. I threw myself over the other side of the bed. I ran past him and locked myself in his bathroom.

"Fuck you!" I yelled through the door. Terrence had already left, it was only Logan and I. I could hate him as loudly as I wanted to. Logan came to the door and shook the handle.

"Elizabeth, what's wrong? What's happening?" He yelled back. "Jesus, Liz! I thought you liked that," He said.

"Well I don't!" I shouted through the door and collapsed to the tile floor. He picked the lock and let himself in, falling to the floor as soon as he saw me. I sobbed in his arms for God knows how long. He just kept kissing the top of my head and rubbing my back.

"Lizzy, baby, I'm so sorry." He whispered and pressed his lips onto my collarbone.

"Grab me some clothes, please." I said. He did. I dressed myself as he looked the other way and let myself out of his house.

Once again, I walked across the street to Wendy's house, wishing I had never crossed that street to get to his house in the first place. I cursed the day that I crossed Josephine street in the middle of a snow storm. I cursed the girl naive enough to think she could enter a boy's room with no consequences. I cursed my father for conditioning me to accept being treated this way. Wendy didn't notice his sweatshirt on me when I came in. I started to cry and she held me until I fell asleep. She didn't ask where I came from or what had happened, she didn't need to. She was a teenage girl once, too.