Twisted Love

sixteen

Alex Vesper

ONCE PARIS fell from the stairs, as a result she twisted her ankle. I still remember the way she whined and moaned in pain, when I was taking her to the hospital. She cried like a seven year old kid for hours, kvetching what if she couldn’t wear her favourite high heels anymore. I almost snorted out and almost told her that she doesn’t need high heels because she was six feet tall.

It was inappropriate for the situation so, I kept my mouth seal and just sat and took it.

The tears of pain that I witnessed that day, that hadn’t perturbed me in the slightest way. I just stared at the road while listening to her rant and scream of frustration and pain. Her sobs didn’t bother me nor her tears could put a knife straight to my heart and twisted that in an excruciating way. Her whines and helpless voice didn’t make me speechless. Her soft voice never squeezed my heart in an eccentric slow motion that could make me think that I was slipping in darkness and nothingness.

Her red face never made me want to wipe away the salty pain called tears on her cheeks. Her eyes never pulled me towards her with invisible strings that could send shivers down to my spine. Her gazes never melted me and put my mind in a zone. I saw Paris getting scared of a bug, running and throwing trauma around a hotel room and that also didn’t bother me in a small pinch.

All I gave her was nothing but my true feelings.

Emptiness.

Love, attention, care and affection aren't something I could give her.

All we did was fuck.

I actually pity Paris. I wonder a lot of time about this and that is, why Paris had put up with me this long. She knew I would never be here the way she wanted me to be. I appreciate her patience actually. Probably, it was my status and face that kept her for so long.

But....

A certain woman has been burning me the way a volcano eruption burnt grounds and rocks and turn places into hell. There is something about her crying face, it feels like an overwhelming haze of addiction. When she innocently looks and licks her lips in nervousness, that makes me want to do nothing but beat my chest with my own fist.

The way she dresses, it's nothing fancy. But those dark coloured clothes and her long black coat always put a mystic dike around her, pushing me far away from her with a harsh collision as if my soul was separated from my body.

What we call an elegant appearance.

Her voice does nothing particular but sent me at the peak of a mountain and makes me feel like I would get pushed from there any time soon. You know what I mean.

The first time, I saw the place where she lived, it sent a flash of thousands of reels that didn’t even exist but they were born from me and my negative thoughts. Men harass Anna as she helplessly just cries under the leering and merciless eyes of those filthy men. She is running in the narrow alleyway, clutching her that damn black coat around her fragile and gentle body as those monsters run after her to have a test of her.

At that time I was blinded by a lot of things. And anger was as always dominating. All that was going inside my head was, how to get her out of that hell hole. I didn’t even mind offering and showering her apartment owner with money to kick her out. And I made her angry and cry.