Rogue Life: A Love Worth Bleeding For
It smelled like iron and dripped like water. This is Delores, I thought. My one Delores, the only woman I would bleed for.
Three days. Three whole days I had waited for her. And after three tear filled, emotionally draining days, there was a soft knock at the door. I knew it was her. I stood on the other side, looking through the peep hole, wondering what I should do. Should I leave her there, out in the cold weather on Christmas day? Or should I accept her back into my life as if nothing happened, as if I smoked eight packs of cigarettes in three days for no reason? I went back and forth, shoulder to shoulder wondering what the angel or the demon wanted from me. But another soft knock at the door sent me into a frenzy of emotion and weakness; I opened the door and look right into her deep blue eyes.
We looked at each other for an eternity and only a moment. She looked alive, the very opposite of me. I had spent three days crying and dying on the couch while she... didn't even blink. There was glitter in her hair and her makeup looked old. Yet it was beautiful, she was beautiful. The snow, the cold air. I just wanted to forgive her and make myself whole again by inviting her in and kissing her and telling her I forgive her. "You know, Delores, about last night... I didn't mean it when I called you a whore." I said quietly. She looked at me still, without blinking. She seemed stiff and uncaring of my feelings. But that was her. I knew her.
"Baby, will you just say something to me?" I said, the threat of tears shaking my voice. She looked away and sighed and then looked to the right of the door. "I'm not your baby anymore. And I, I mean, we're here to get my shit so I can leave. Yuri and I are going to his parents house in California to spend the rest of the ... holidays." She said quietly. Yuri stepped from the side of the door and was just inches away from my face. "So, you going to sit here and cry or let us in?" he asked, mockingly.
I felt used and vulnerable. Stupid. Weak. Delores was leaving me. For good. I stepped out of the way, making sure to look down at my shoes while Yuri walked into our apartment, a dull but satisfied smirk on his face. I wanted so bad to hurt both of them. Murder them both really fast and make sure not to get blood on the new carpet and hide the bodies in plastic in the dumpster out back. Hat would be cold hearted and ... just wrong. Yet the thoughts that swam around in my head made me feel otherwise. But I only sat down on the couch, lighting a cigarette and pouring myself some Jack Daniels, a gift from a friend.
I heard bags being wrapped and objects being taken. I felt robbed. Robbed of my life and everything I had to live for. But I was going to fill myself with a temporary medicine that wasn't recommended by the doctor. I felt raw and open and exposed. The holidays were a time of joy and love and just being together. But I was going to be spending it with Ciggy and Jack. My two worst enemies and the only two who really cared about me. I just left my feelings at that and shot my heart to shit with alcohol when Delores gave me that one last look and set the engagement ring that I was going to give her on New Year's Eve on the coffee table. Then I cried like a fucking baby. I had never cried so much n my entire life. I must've done something to drive her to this. I took out another cig and angrily stuck it into my mouth and lit it.
I dragged and dragged, letting the embers burn my skin as they fell, punishing myself for my stupidity. After two more cups of Jack, I picked up the bottle and threw it, shattering it against the wall. Then I screamed as deep anger and hatred flooded my entire body, making me slow and giddy and angry. My eyes were narrowed to the point where it hurt and the loud shattering of the glass still echoed in my hurt mind. I liked that sound, I relished the idea of destroying something. The first thing I saw was that picture of Delores and I together at the signing for my new book. I cried as I looked over it, rubbing against the glass of her face. She was wearing a beautiful red dress and black suede pumps with the black and red clutch purse. I threw it and laughed as it slammed into the wall. Then it was the vase. The glass of the coffee table. My own picture.
I stepped forward, drunken and dizzy. I fell onto a piece of glass and yelled at the pain. But I enjoyed it. I had been hurting for months with the knowledge that this day was inevitable. Just like death and pain, they were going to occur regardless of what the fuck I did to prevent them. So in a drunken haze I stabbed my wrist and watched the blood pour down my arm in a thick line. It smelled like iron and dripped like water. This is Delores, I thought.
Delores.
She was just an excuse I would use in my suicide letter. With a pen I had found amidst the mess I had made I wrote on a menu I had gotten off the fridge. I slumped to the floor in the kitchen and watched my blood run across the linoleum. I wanted so bad to die. So I wrote.
Dear Delores,
I hope you are happy with him. Maybe he will love you. I just can't stand the pain of not having you love me. Please tell my parents I never meant to hurt them. I just want you to understand that - I stopped there. I felt so horrible. Sick. Then I realized I had lost too much blood. I was dying.
"Oh shit," was the only thing I remember saying before I passed out.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Thank everyone who commented and answered the poll on my last article. I really appreciate you. I feel that your comments only motivate me to go forward with my writing.
Also, I have a question. Would any one of you go as far to bleed for someone you love?
For me it depends on the situation and it depends on who it is.
Just something to think about, I would like to incorporate your ideas into my writing also. Who knew I would have actual fans on just the first story (this time around)? You guys and girls are amazing!
We looked at each other for an eternity and only a moment. She looked alive, the very opposite of me. I had spent three days crying and dying on the couch while she... didn't even blink. There was glitter in her hair and her makeup looked old. Yet it was beautiful, she was beautiful. The snow, the cold air. I just wanted to forgive her and make myself whole again by inviting her in and kissing her and telling her I forgive her. "You know, Delores, about last night... I didn't mean it when I called you a whore." I said quietly. She looked at me still, without blinking. She seemed stiff and uncaring of my feelings. But that was her. I knew her.
"Baby, will you just say something to me?" I said, the threat of tears shaking my voice. She looked away and sighed and then looked to the right of the door. "I'm not your baby anymore. And I, I mean, we're here to get my shit so I can leave. Yuri and I are going to his parents house in California to spend the rest of the ... holidays." She said quietly. Yuri stepped from the side of the door and was just inches away from my face. "So, you going to sit here and cry or let us in?" he asked, mockingly.
I felt used and vulnerable. Stupid. Weak. Delores was leaving me. For good. I stepped out of the way, making sure to look down at my shoes while Yuri walked into our apartment, a dull but satisfied smirk on his face. I wanted so bad to hurt both of them. Murder them both really fast and make sure not to get blood on the new carpet and hide the bodies in plastic in the dumpster out back. Hat would be cold hearted and ... just wrong. Yet the thoughts that swam around in my head made me feel otherwise. But I only sat down on the couch, lighting a cigarette and pouring myself some Jack Daniels, a gift from a friend.
I heard bags being wrapped and objects being taken. I felt robbed. Robbed of my life and everything I had to live for. But I was going to fill myself with a temporary medicine that wasn't recommended by the doctor. I felt raw and open and exposed. The holidays were a time of joy and love and just being together. But I was going to be spending it with Ciggy and Jack. My two worst enemies and the only two who really cared about me. I just left my feelings at that and shot my heart to shit with alcohol when Delores gave me that one last look and set the engagement ring that I was going to give her on New Year's Eve on the coffee table. Then I cried like a fucking baby. I had never cried so much n my entire life. I must've done something to drive her to this. I took out another cig and angrily stuck it into my mouth and lit it.
I dragged and dragged, letting the embers burn my skin as they fell, punishing myself for my stupidity. After two more cups of Jack, I picked up the bottle and threw it, shattering it against the wall. Then I screamed as deep anger and hatred flooded my entire body, making me slow and giddy and angry. My eyes were narrowed to the point where it hurt and the loud shattering of the glass still echoed in my hurt mind. I liked that sound, I relished the idea of destroying something. The first thing I saw was that picture of Delores and I together at the signing for my new book. I cried as I looked over it, rubbing against the glass of her face. She was wearing a beautiful red dress and black suede pumps with the black and red clutch purse. I threw it and laughed as it slammed into the wall. Then it was the vase. The glass of the coffee table. My own picture.
I stepped forward, drunken and dizzy. I fell onto a piece of glass and yelled at the pain. But I enjoyed it. I had been hurting for months with the knowledge that this day was inevitable. Just like death and pain, they were going to occur regardless of what the fuck I did to prevent them. So in a drunken haze I stabbed my wrist and watched the blood pour down my arm in a thick line. It smelled like iron and dripped like water. This is Delores, I thought.
Delores.
She was just an excuse I would use in my suicide letter. With a pen I had found amidst the mess I had made I wrote on a menu I had gotten off the fridge. I slumped to the floor in the kitchen and watched my blood run across the linoleum. I wanted so bad to die. So I wrote.
Dear Delores,
I hope you are happy with him. Maybe he will love you. I just can't stand the pain of not having you love me. Please tell my parents I never meant to hurt them. I just want you to understand that - I stopped there. I felt so horrible. Sick. Then I realized I had lost too much blood. I was dying.
"Oh shit," was the only thing I remember saying before I passed out.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Thank everyone who commented and answered the poll on my last article. I really appreciate you. I feel that your comments only motivate me to go forward with my writing.
Also, I have a question. Would any one of you go as far to bleed for someone you love?
For me it depends on the situation and it depends on who it is.
Just something to think about, I would like to incorporate your ideas into my writing also. Who knew I would have actual fans on just the first story (this time around)? You guys and girls are amazing!
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