I cry out through my orgasm, “I love you, Landon.”
Sometimes lies soothe.
He pushes into me again, shuddering through his climax, and I comfort him one last time, holding him against my chest. “I love you.”
Collapsing on top of me, his heart beats against mine, a thumping reminder that this is it—we’re finished.
I’m torn with the impulse to wrap my body around him and keep him forever. But I can’t. I know this feeling to cling is because, no matter how far we’ve grown apart, it’s terrifying to let go of security. No one likes saying goodbye, especially me.
Landon rescued my faith in trust when I had lost it with Trey. He was my best friend, my lover, my everything, and to watch it all dissolve into this moment—in this hotel room—is heartbreaking.
He rolls off of me, and I watch as he grabs his pants from the floor and pulls them on. And just like flipping a light switch, we go from so much to nothing at all. A few minutes ago he was telling me he loved me, and now he’s empty. He won’t even look at me.
“Landon?”
Nothing.
He shrugs his shirt on and then sits on the edge of the bed for a silent minute, his back facing me. He then stands and walks to the door.
“Landon,” I call out, and he stops with his hand on the door handle. “You’re not going to say anything?”
He turns his head, and I see why he’s been keeping his back to me. Tears stain his face, falling like death from his eyes. My own well up, taking away my ability to breathe.
“The only way I could get you to say you love me was by telling you to lie to me.” He speaks through the bullet hole I shot through his heart. “There’s nothing left. I can’t pull on your heartstrings when they’re no longer attached to anything.”
The door closes, and there’s no doubt in my mind that Landon can hear my sobbing wails as he walks down the hall to the elevators. I’m sure everyone on this floor can hear the excruciating pain ripping out of my chest.
I fist the sheets that are covered in our sex—covered in our goodbye—and lose myself in a dark well of debilitating agony.
This year has been a slow walk to the grave I knew I would ultimately land in. And here I am, naked and all alone, waiting for someone to shovel the dirt on me.
Grabbing a pillow, I shove my face into it and use it to muffle my screams. The sadness hurts too much, and I do what I can to replace it with something else. So I scream harder than I ever have before, shredding my vocal cords. My face burns as I release another piercing shriek, welcoming the razors slicing their way up my throat. I yearn for more of this blistering pain to overshadow the agonizing suffering afflicting me.
Nothing can save me though.
Hurling the pillow across the room, I fall onto the bed, curl into a ball, and allow the misery to suffocate me.
Why even try to dull what I should feel?
I deserve the crucifixion.
I’ve been nothing but a silver-tongued devil, lying and deceiving to indulge in self-fulfilling pleasures. Pleasures I had no right to partake in, but did, regardless of morals and vows. I handed my soul to sin, allowed its infection, and ultimately fell in love. To think I deserve anything more than losing everything would only sharpen my horns.
Minutes fade into hours, fading into darkness, fading into hollowness, turning me into a corpse. My naked body shivers as I stare at the ceiling, limp and lifeless. I barely have enough energy to blink, only doing so when the burning becomes too much from the loss of moisture. And then, like sandpaper to an open wound, I blink.
I feel on the verge of death, and I’m scared. I don’t want to be forsaken. The thought alone terrifies me, triggering the need for nourishment and consolation. It’s the longing to be taken care of that continues to follow me through life. Because even though I want to give up, I know I can’t. I’m not strong enough to do this on my own. I need to breathe, to fight my way up to the surface’s edge, but these waters are dark and bury me under their weight.
Rolling to my side, my muscles ache, but I absorb it as I push myself off the bed. I look to the floor