Author S. K. Nicholas

She has half a face, and I have two secrets. Drinking to numb the boredom, she slides her hand under my shirt. Her fingers are like spiders, and as my teeth sit on edge from too much whiskey, a cigarette only makes things worse. When the lights flash, and she undresses, I go to the toilets and splash my face with water. Looking at my reflection, I know I’m too old for this, and yet I’m not old enough. Her hips remind me of childhood fears; the fear of death as a five-year-old. Thoughts of my parents dying; of being left alone. Her body is a temple, and yet it reduces me once more to that lonely kid looking up at the silent, mocking moon. All those stars- that endless night sky so much older and colder than I dare imagine. When I awake the following morning, my head feels on the verge of imploding. She doesn’t stir when I get out of bed, and so I hobble into the bathroom and puke. On my knees with tears in my eyes, I swear to God I’ll never drink again, but I cross my fingers at the last second. Sticking those fingers down my throat, the worst comes up leaving me free to fall back and lay there looking up at the ceiling. Stumbling downstairs, I down a few painkillers with a glass of water. My stomach burns from all the acid, and it makes me rage at being human, but it’s a pointless war, so I retreat to the bedroom. Her lower half wrapped in a duvet with curls of hair spilling over her shoulder, she momentarily stirs, and I see her nipples are erect. I call her name as the pain in my head grows, and I remember the pain in my jaw from the night before and diagnose myself with cancer. Only weeks to live, and so little to show for it. Not even published! Oh, the shame. Laying next to her, she says something, but her words all merge together. I ask her to repeat them, but she just moans. Moving my hand from her waist to her breast, I pinch her right nipple- my favourite of the two. Rolling onto her front, she slides down the duvet and then her panties. Foaming at the mouth, I grab hold of her and bite her neck. It doesn’t take long, and there’s nothing romantic about my actions. Holding her arms behind her back, I do my best to shame her; to mock her for being such a slave to her desires, but I’m just as bad. Despite my words, I’m just an animal. Pumping her as hard as I can despite my nausea, I lift her up so I get a good view of her tits bouncing up and down. It’s too much, though, and I quickly come inside of her. Sweating profusely, I collapse. Kissing my lips, she mumbles something again, but her words are inaudible. Watching her as she sleeps, there’s no such comfort for me, for as much as I try, I remain awake. The acid in my belly swirling like the Milky Way, I want to die, to disappear in an instant. Sitting at my desk while she remains in dreams, I write these words and hope that somehow they will show me the way.