MODERN-DAY TRAGEDY

IV. HEALINGS OF THE BROKEN

"touch me there, make me feel like i am breathing"

                    THE FIRST TIME KAIA KISSED A GIRL was during the summer of her high school graduation. Her name was Amelia. She remembers her fondly, never of love, but rather the moment when she realized how much she did enjoy kissing girls. It was so different from kissing boys, something that Kaia, even then, did frequently. She remembers weaving her fingers through her soft dark curls, her soft plump lips crashing onto hers and the femininity of her body on the backseat of Amelia's beat-up car. Every place the girl had kissed felt like it was getting set on fire. She remembers Amelia's mouth trailing from her pale breasts to the plains of her stomach and eventually to the place that had Kaia writhing and screaming in ecstasy. She would never forget the way Amelia tasted, a mixture of peppermints and heaven. And in the moments as she fell apart on Amelia's teasing tongue, she thought of her devout Christian mother, wondering what she would have thought of her sinning daughter right now. Never had she felt more seen. The first time Kaia kissed a girl, well, it felt like she was flying.

There are nights, such as these, where instead of thinking about the nameless people she had no intentions of ever getting to know, she thinks about Amelia or people like her who leave an once bright memory in the faint hues of crimson in Kaia's restless mind.

In the moments of her and her endless string of pseudo-lovers, it was the intimacy that she craved so much more than just sex. The girl fell in love with the fleeting touches, how her lover's pressed against her, filling the void temporarily. She needed those nights to make her feel something, reminding her that she wasn't just the leftovers of an once brilliant and blinding star.

As for the nameless people who's left with the aftertaste of Kaia's sweet addicting essence, well, that was all they were left with. As much as she tries to deny, Kaia was nothing if not a people-pleaser. She knew exactly what to do to make them feel delirious, unintentionally taking notes and changing herself to make them feel good even if that means sacrificing her pleasure. Maybe that was why her lovers were left blinded from the supernova that is Kaia LeClair.

✩

Devon stared blankly out her window and into the night sky. She let her thoughts consume her, though lingering slightly on a particular green-eyed boy. She wondered what it was like to fall in love. Was it scary? Or was it just like falling? She's seen two sides of love stories. Her parents had the love that was everlasting, smiling fondly as she remembered the times her father had pulled her mother out of whatever she had been doing at that time to dance in the living room at the tunes of their song on the radio. As a little girl, Devon supposed she knew what love looked like.

She had never been the type of person to look so desperately into finding love, getting married, and being a mother. And she knew deep down, that love could not heal her wounds. The girl didn't want to need someone to make her feel complete, she wanted to be complete herself. She thought about River some more, wondering what it would be like to kiss his soft pink lips.

She grazed the tips of her fingers tentatively between her legs, moving it around eagerly, willing herself to feel the pleasures of her solo act. Her fingers rub her clit slowly, causing a soft moan to come out of her as her back arched off her bed. Her other hand wandered up the flat plains of her stomach to the soft valleys of her breast, pinching her nipples into peaks, feeling shocks of pleasure echo throughout her naked body as she continued to tease herself.

Her fingers dipped into her entrance, her moans becoming louder, as she felt her fingers curve inside her. Her legs opened even more, giving her fingers more access, taking her time to feel the waves of pleasure ripple through her. Slowly slipping another finger into her throbbing core, she felt her walls begin to stretch, adjusting to the intrusion. Her fingers began to move slowly but steadily inside of her, the sound of her wetness turning her on even more.

She could feel herself beginning to lose control, her hips rocking desperately against her fingers, begging for more and feeling the foreign sensations collide onto her. She was so close, feeling her legs began to quiver and her stomach tightening, her fingers continuing to move inside her. Her walls begun to clench and unclench around her fingers. Lips parting softly, her eyes fluttering closed, she became lost in the sensations of her own touch.

And with one last thought of the enigmatic boy, she imagine him whispering into her ears, begging for her to be undone. And she did. With a gasp and a quiver, she was entirely unraveled by the thought of the boy.

After a few breathless seconds in her bliss, she slowly got up from the comforts of her bed and made her way to the shower.

Sparing a long second glance at her reflection in the mirror, she saw the naked feminine figure of a girl with fire in her eyes. She saw the reflection of a girl she did not entirely recognizing, as if Devon had always mistaken herself for someone that was somewhat broken, not realizing that some where along the way, she had pieced together the broken pieces of her existence. The girl in the mirror was beautiful, her brown eyes bright with life and a faint smile painted on her mischievous lips.

She wasn't the same girl who stood brokenly in a courtroom, nor was she the same girl who laid lifelessly in the hospital, eyes so lost and shattered. And it took years. Years of curling up in the corner of her closet, tears silently running down her face, arms hugging around her skeletal chest, hands pressed together in prayer wondering why such a cruel fate was cursed upon a young girl, on the verge of womanhood. It took years of anger, the turmoil that eventually took over her kindred spirit, hating the world for the little girl no one could save. And for a while, she let her anger and hatred consume her, numbing the cries of the innocence she thought had died. Then she was numb, unable to feel the joys of life, unable to look her parents in the eyes, spending all her time locked in her closet, staring blankly at the child-like handprints of paint on her closet walls.

It took so goddamn long, Devon thought as a single tear trickled down her cheeks.