Tainted

34 - Colt: Sinner

Friday June 6

"Oh, Colt," the girl - Sarah, I think it was - moaned beneath me.

I immediately felt like I was suffocating, watching her writhe at my hand, her mouth producing the most vulgar sounds.

She really wasn't what I needed to hear right now.

I winced when her nails dug into my flesh, her touch stiff and body rigid. It made me shiver even thinking about it, much less having to feel her cold touch.

She was disconnected, feeling me physically as opposed to acknowledging me as a human being.

And she was going to be my last, that was it - I couldn't fucking handle this anymore.

After having sex with numerous, random girls, I'd come to realize that they didn't give me the pleasure I'd been searching for in the first place, nor did they possess such an aura that had me intrigued nor enticed.

But I didn't learn - I wasn't going to stop until I proved to myself that I didn't need her. She was supposed to be mediocre to me, just another girl, another one time fling. I was going to show her that I didn't care, if that's what she really thought.

Although being a blow to my ego, I couldn't finish off the girl beneath me, cringing at her sounds of protest as I hurried to grab my things and escape her flat without having to face her directly as I left. It might have seemed like I was using her, and fuck me if I wasn't, but I knew better than anyone else what it felt like to be used.

When you're nineteen years old, moving from one bar to the next every weekend, you'll find that it's the women who are practically begging you to rip their clothes off and fuck them senselessly.

They used me. And I'm not proud of the fact that it took me too long to figure it out.

I grabbed my things, yanking my pants up and tossing my shirt over my head before I was out of there, running down the steps and out of the building without as much as a glance back.

I was a horrible person. But I couldn't will myself to stop - it would take a miracle to change me from the man I'd become over my lifetime.

"Hey!" the girl emerged from the building wearing practically no clothes, but I couldn't even stand to look at her, feeling sick to my stomach as I climbed into my Range. "You can't just leave!"

I kept going.

"You arsehole! Idiot, scumbag!" she called after me as I geared into drive, stepping on the gas so she was lost in the dust behind me.

"Goodbye, número ocho," I mumbled, slamming my hand on the radio power button, firing it up to distract myself from the late AM thoughts eluding my mind.

"I must admit
I can't explain
Any of these thoughts racing
Through my brain
It's true
Baby I'm howlin' for you," the speakers blared, and I cranked it up louder, willing to forget this past week.

I leaned over the console and threw open the glove compartment, moving my hand around until I found the familiar objects my mind craved - cigarettes and a lighter.

I yanked cigarette from the pack using my teeth, keeping it propped in my mouth as I fired up the lighter. Taking a long drag from the metaphoric stick, I finally felt my senses calm.

I wasn't usually a smoker, but on the rare occasion it was one hell of a distraction. And I'd do anything right now for a bit of a stall from my thoughts.