8. Mine
MINE
Lee dropped me off at the house, making an excuse he couldn’t stay long.
I waved him off like I always did, I was a big girl after all.
He pulled out of the driveway a moment later, his black motorcycle growling with the distance.
It took approximately five seconds for me to leave as well.
I needed to walk, there was too much on my mind.
So I grabbed my black hoodie, threw it over my head and left.
There wasn’t much time before I made it into town.
When I pushed my fingers into the large pocket in the front of my hoodie I found my gloves.
An aching feeling that wound around my soul at yet another idiotic action of emotions I wasn’t equipped to handle.
The accident. My bike. The gloves I had cherished as a second layer of skin.
I pulled them on feeling the familiar weight and pull of them, my fingers flexing of their own accord.
Satisfied with the fit I continued walking.
Marriage. The word tormented my mind, pounding against my chest like a cruel reminder of a past longing I can't forget, echoing through the depths of my soul with every restless beat.
My feet pounded relentlessly against the cold concrete as I hurried toward the gym, each step fueled by an overwhelming rush of emotion.
At first, I believed that working out might be my escape, my way to find peace amidst the chaos within me— but I was too restless, too storm-tossed to find solace in mere movement.
I slipped quietly through the back door into the supply closet, my hands trembling as I pulled open the cool, metallic doors.
My heart pounding, I reached for a syringe on the bottom shelf, clutching it like a lifeline.
Turning toward the small black mini fridge off to the side, I felt the weight of my desperation and hope collide in that fleeting moment— searching for some kind of relief, some spark to quiet the chaos inside.
Drugs seem like the simplest escape, the only way I can fall into sleep when everything else feels overwhelming and impossible to endure.
I carefully pulled up just a small dose of ketamine—just enough to get the job done, but not enough to trap me in endless sleep.
Thank you, Dad, for pushing chemistry onto me as if I were destined to run some secret drug operation.
I couldn't help but roll my eyes as I shoved the vial toward the back of the fridge, feeling the weight of his expectations and my own silent frustration.
I left the gym just moments ago, my steps heavy and unsteady, my heart pounding with a lingering ache.
As I made my way back to the house, the cold vial in my glove seemed to burn hotter, a stark contrast to the chill that seeped into my bones.
My path drifted off course, still familiar, yet not enough to feel like home—just a whisper of a place I longed for but could never truly reach.
The soft glow of the kitchen light flickered on, casting a fragile warmth as I paused, lingering at their mailbox.
There, in that fleeting moment, I saw their family—an image of happiness I would never possess.
I watched her blonde hair sway gently across her shoulder, the smile that danced upon her lips as she spoke—so full of life, so untouched by my world.
And in that instant, she looked my way, as if my very presence beckoned her, as if she could feel my yearning, drawing her toward me with an unspoken pull I could never quite grasp.
My feet instinctively pulled back, retreating as a surge of better judgment seized me—don't stalk her, I begged myself, it's just so damn creepy.
She moved on with her life, while I lingered in the shadows, my eyes fixed on her—the orange and brown carton of ice cream clutched in her hands—sitting peacefully with her father.
They were laughing, carefree, watching some old black-and-white TV show like nothing else mattered in the world.
A blazing envy tore through my soul as I stood there, frozen in place, watching her, waiting for her like some desperate, haunted soul possessed by an unshakable longing.
I wasn’t sure if it was pure captivation that kept me rooted to that spot or the impossible allure of her.
Maybe a dangerous blend of both. I stood on the street, bathed in the warm glow of the street lamp, waiting with bated breath.
I watched her as she brushed her teeth, as she slowly prepared for bed—each movement pulling me deeper into her world.
Her sleepy eyes suddenly widened when the light in her bedroom flicked on, as if she sensed something unseen.
Instinct took over, and I instinctively moved away, like a predator unleashing its silent warning, taunting its prey.
She shook it off effortlessly, continuing to undress as if the dangers of the night couldn’t reach her, as if she were too lost in sleep to realize the threat lurking nearby.
That moment, that sense of reckless vulnerability— I found it intoxicating.
Sometime later, her eyelids became heavy, closing in sleep.
That’s when I moved, deliberately—slowly, purposefully.
Every step measured and controlled, like this was just an everyday stroll, nothing more than a casual walk.
But inside, my heart thundered—this was more than just walking through the night.
It was an obsession, a dangerous passion, a silent desire I couldn’t resist.
My gloved hand carefully pried open the window, each movement heavy with quiet desperation.
I slid into her room on silent, plush steps, my boots pressing softly into the carpet, as if afraid to wake her from that fragile, tender world.
My eyes were irresistibly drawn to her—the soft, golden glow of her blonde hair, the gentle rise and fall of her peaceful smile, her dreams gently cradling her in serenity.
I could have walked away, left everything behind, gone without so much as a touch—a ghost in her sanctuary.
But as her blankets slipped below her waist, exposing that vulnerable, sacred part of her, my mouth watered like a starving beast. A relentless, primal hunger roared inside me—a savage craving to claim her, to possess her, to devour her innocence with an impossible longing that burned hotter than the night itself.
There was something so forbidden about the situation. I had never done this before but as my mind caught on the syringe in my pocket I couldn’t help wondering if some deep dark part of me planned it. Motivated by my distraught emotions and my longing for company.
As I moved through her room, my gaze was drawn to everything that reflected her soul—every little detail, every treasured fragment of her life. My steps were slow, hesitant, caught in a whirlwind of doubt and longing, wondering if this was the right choice. But does it truly matter?
A dark, twisted thought crept into my mind, wrapping itself around my spirit, and I surrendered to its seductive pull.
Silent drawers waited as they opened and closed, revealing nothing of consequence—panties, bras, shirts, jeans—nothing that sparked my interest until I saw it: the outfit she had meticulously laid out.
A “good girl” outfit—so innocent, so seemingly modest. Long-sleeved baby blue top with a delicate sweetheart neckline, paired with flared jeans that spoke of innocence.
I almost chuckled at the sight—she even laid out her underwear, as if preparing to present herself perfectly. But no, this simply wouldn’t do.
As I gently put away the clothes, my fingers brushed against a sleek, short black shirt with a daring cut, tucked away at the back of her dresser—a piece that whispered secrets of confidence and wild dreams. Next, I found a vibrant hot pink bra, fiery and bold, perfectly matching her fierce spirit.
I then selected a pair of low-rise skinny jeans, feeling the anticipation build as I laid them out, ready to transform her into something breathtaking.
Or perhaps, it was Lilly’s ghost softly whispering in my ear, urging me forward.
Before I finished, I carefully placed her rugged cowboy boots in front, symbols of her free-spirited soul.
Sighing softly with a mix of admiration and longing, I turned once more towards her peaceful, sleeping frame, captivated by the quiet beauty and the promise of what’s to come.
My gloved hands moved her soft curls to the side revealing the bare skin of her neck.
The syringe loomed in my hand, a slight hesitation before my mind settled itself.
The soft prick drew a whine of protest from her lips as the needle punctured her skin, the plunger depressed moments later as I held my breath in anticipation.
Her breath is still steady. Her body laid in the same position as moments before. I pocketed the syringe watching, waiting for what seemed like an eternity. Nothing.
Her gentle breaths were the only sound as I slipped the blankets down and away from her body. My heart danced wildly against my ribcage as I stared at her soft delicate form. So beautiful.
Gazing upon her was like staring straight into the vast, trembling heavens just moments before the skies unleash their thunderous, soul-shattering rain.
It was as if the very air around me pulsed with anticipation, echoing the raw, uncontainable surge of emotion swelling within my chest—an intoxicating, menacing promise of something powerful and all-consuming, ready to burst forth in a torrent of life, passion, and unspoken longing.