2 #3
Well, it’s because he was a creation of my imagination. Obviously, I dyed my hair purple and use strong makeup because I like it, and so, obviously, the person I’ve imagined will like it too.
“Do you want to come over to my place?” he suddenly asks, stepping closer.
The question hits me, and I stare at him.
Who does he think he is? He hasn’t contacted me for three months, and now, randomly running into each other at the cemetery corner, his first question is whether I will have sex with him?
Okay, he didn’t phrase it like that, but he surely doesn’t want to chat.
Yet, as his chest touches mine, I don’t move away.
I feel dizzy; the cemetery seems to sway and Nathan’s handsome face appears to stretch.
I push my heel into the ground, making it clear that I’m here, that I’m still awake, that nothing is wrong.
I have no idea what withdrawal symptoms are like.
I never read about them and I never had to experience them, but my field of vision is narrower, my heart beats irregularly, and I just want to get out of here.
But when Nathan’s hand jumps to my face, I don’t resist. He takes my silence as consent and he kisses me.
Only now do I realize how much I missed his touch. I kiss him back. For a moment, I don’t think about anything except him, and how in the morning chill his warm lips touch mine, how he demands every little movement from me.
He ends the kiss so suddenly that I almost stumble forward.
He strokes the ends of my mouth with his thumbs. If I were younger, I might believe this to be a romantic gesture, but I know too well. The problem is that he knows too, and he knows my answer even without me saying it. I will go to his place and allow him to make me forget the whole morning.
I look up into Nathan’s eager eyes. Blond strands of his hair hang in front of them, and my purple lipstick has left marks on his mouth.
“I missed you,” he whispers.
“Then you could have called me.” I’m telling myself this too, hoping to come to my senses and withdraw from his embrace while I still can. I could turn away and leave him, like I left the shadow figure.
“I had to think.” He tilts his head to the side, as if he’s still pondering. “Now I’m here, right? Come back to mine, and we’ll talk.”
He probably doesn’t want to discuss anything, and I find myself not really wanting to either, even though it hurts that he left. But what does this say about me? Someone doesn’t contact me for three months, then a chance encounter and I immediately sleep with him? Am I that desperate?
And why am I even bothered about this? I have every right to use my body as I want. If it’s for forgetting, then I’ll use it for that, and…
My stomach suddenly tightens as if someone grabbed it, and my field of vision starts to waver.
I push myself away from Nathan’s arms and lean on a reddish-brown, rugged tree.
I press my hand to my mouth and swallow hard to hold back the urge to vomit.
I sigh in relief when the nausea subsides. Damn withdrawal symptoms.
“Lotte?” Nathan’s voice sounds distant, and the heat of embarrassment washes over me. I wipe my mouth and look around, blushing.
“I haven’t taken my medication for two days,” I respond, answering the unasked question.
“Oh,” says Nathan, running his fingers through his blond hair. “So, are you coming?”
I almost burst out laughing at his agitation.
Thanks, I’m fine, asshole. Not that I expected any sympathy from him, but a simple “how are you?” would have been nice.
However, before I can say anything, Nathan’s phone rings.
I put my hand on my nape to massage out the frustration, which I hope will subside once Nathan buries me under him. He looks at his phone.
“It’s Filip. Do you mind?” I nod, knowing that Filip is one of Nathan’s Greek friends.
I won’t understand anything from their conversation anyway, so at least I’ll have time to calm down.
“Hello buddy, you don’t have much time. Go ahead!
” Nathan says in French, confusing me. Why aren’t they speaking Greek?
As far as I know, Filip doesn’t speak French. Did he learn it?
Nathan tilts his head, nodding. “It’s fine with me. I’ll finish with her in half an hour.”
A chill runs through my veins. Finish with her? With me?! I blink, staring at Nathan, who smiles.
“I’ve already regretted inviting her over, but now I’ll just fuck her anyways.” He laughs. “Don’t worry, I’ll be quick, I promise. In half an hour… Okay, you can come over in twenty minutes, and…”
I slap Nathan so hard that his phone flies out of his hand. Who does he think he is? He looks at me as though he’s seen a ghost.
“What the hell was that, Lotte?”
“What the hell was that ?” I ask incredulously, and my stomach jumps beneath my chest, almost making me laugh. “Who the fuck do you think you are?”
He blinks in confusion. He takes me for a fool.
“You talk to your friend in front of me like this? In French?!” I yell.
Nathan shakes his head, and my fist clenches.
“Lotte, what do you mean—”
“What do you mean, what do I mean?” I shout at him before he can finish the sentence.
“Lotte… I was speaking in Greek. How did you get what I was saying?”
I just stare at him. He’s not denying saying anything. Instead, he claims that he spoke in Greek, and yet, I understood.
“Did you learn Greek over the summer? How?!” he demands.
He is playing with me. I laugh bitterly. I don’t speak a word of Greek. He is taking advantage of the fact that I’m not on my medication, wanting to convince me that I didn’t understand him or, on the contrary, that I suddenly understood Greek.
I’m an idiot.
And I almost went home with him.
I start trembling, turning on my heel without a word. The cemetery tilts in front of me as I am running. Nathan yells after me, trying to keep me here. Everything is blurry, everything is distorted. How could I be so stupid? How could he go this far… Why did he do this?
I run. So fast that everything blurs again, and I know the fog enclosing me is just a figment of my imagination, but my field of vision is no longer clear.
The terror is suffocating, and my heart drums against my ribs as I try to run away from him.
From Nathan. From everything. I don’t want this day.
I don’t want the next ones either. I don’t know what’s real and what’s not.
If I continue like this, if I imagine more, then…
Something pulls my hair, and I scream in pain.
“Nathan…” I cry out. I fall onto a stone and look up in horror, but it’s not him in front of me.
Bronze eyes and dark brown hair are the last image I see before my head receives a massive blow and everything goes dark.