It's three in the morning, and I can hear his voice, whispering in my ear, telling me things. Even though it has been two years, he still speaks to me, killing me, even though I know he isn't here. Two years, twenty four months, seven hundred and thirty days. To this day, it still hurts, and still visits me every night. Every once in a while he visits me during the day when I let my guard down, and allow myself to think of what he did.
It seems like only yesterday, the day when he hurt me. He has managed to transcend time and space. I carry him with me every time I meet someone, every time I think I feel love. He is always whispering in my ear telling me not to trust, telling me that he will never let me have someone other than him.
I still remember the day vividly, and all the time we used to spend together before he chose to make me his. We met in school, and were fast friends. We shared a secret knowledge of each other, and in a few months chose to act on it. It was innocent really, nothing serious and I never let him go all the way, because I was not ready to give myself to anyone. He said that was fine, that he would wait, and told me that he loved me.
As the seasons passed, I grew to love him, or so I thought I did. I was young, and I did not know any better. I thought this was how everyone felt. I was dependent on him, as he was my world. I needed him to love me. I needed him to be my all.
One day while we were at play, he said that he wanted me to let him do it. Do the one act that would make me his, a completion so to speak. I said no, and kissed him, but he grew angry saying that I was mocking him and teasing him through the seasons. I didn't understand what he was saying, and I grew scared. He got up and started pacing, telling me how worthless I was, that I was nothing but a whore. When I tried to speak, he struck me, saying that I had no right to speak on the matter.
Soon enough, he calmed down, and sat down beside me, telling me how sorry he was for everything he did or said. He said that boys like us had to stick together, and support each other. He had me lay down beside him and he held me, stroking my hair. He kissed me softly, and for some stupid reason, I felt safe.
After a few hours, he pulled me close to him saying that now was the time. He turned me over and gripped my arms, effectively pinning me with his weight. He then pulled my clothing off, and attended to his own. He said he would be gentle, telling me all the while how good this would be, that this would make us one forever. He forced himself into me, and started thrusting, ripping all that stood in his path. I felt the warmth of blood flowing from torn tissue. All the while he whispered in my ear, reciting a litany of poetics that he had prepared for this occasion. He finally finished in a rush of his semen, and my blood. He suckled my neck, and attempted to ravish my body, never noticing that I lay there dead in silence, stiff like an old timber.
© 1997 apathyzine@yahoo.com
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