Short horror stories

What is love

Emotions never came naturally to me. The empathic responses of those around me seemed instinctive, it was like they were reading invisible braille with sensitive fingertips in the air. I learned to pretend, but I felt the need - the urge - to understand. To pick apart, to examine the anatomy of humanity. I wanted to chart the unmapped territories of the soul. I somehow knew that if I could map this inexplicable geography I could make it my home and be part of what everyone around me seemed to share. Tiny strings connecting them through words like friendship, care, love. Most of all love.

Song after song told me of love and its ability to transform the world, change reality, mould it into beauty. Love had inspired these lyrics, so I began to pick them apart, searching for meaning and sense in the senseless.

I want to know what love is

I learned that words were empty, but the clichés repeated themselves and as empty as they seemed the statistics made it obvious that the same phrases lived in the hearts of the majority. Love seemed to be a wishing bone, or a muscle, that lived inside everyone but me.

What is love?

I took her from a parking lot after overhearing her talking on the phone with her husband. "I love you", she whispered. I took her and I went to find the place inside her where love is. If I could find it I would know. I opened her up and let my fingers grasp around her heart. I had opened her ribs like a window or a gate, they stuck out of her like they were trying to embrace me as I leant over her. Her heart was beating so quickly, vibrating against the palm of my hand. Was this love? Then she told me, groggily through the sedatives, and I learned what love is. Love is pain and begging to be relieved from it. Love hurts.

"Don't hurt me. Don't hurt me no more."