On the outside I keep my stoic face, yet, on the inside—each and every part of me wants to scream—and tear her beautiful face to pieces. “Claire how the fuck you don’t understand? It’s over.” She keeps that childish smirk and continues teasingly like she didn’t hear anything I said. “Oh darling, that’s nonsense. You know I fixed you up last night and I’ll do it again, and again, and again.” She tries to caress my face but I reject her fake tenderness with a swift move of my own hand. “Claire I’m serious. I’m done with you. Enough is enough.” Blood is boiling in my veins as I’m starting to lose my shit. “Darling, darling. You need to rest, you had a tough day. Let me help you relax. That’ll be good for you my love."—She’s getting closer again. “Get off me! How could you possibly think that sex can erase what you’ve done?"—“A good head can fix many things… don’t underestimate its power honey."—she kissed me on the cheek, I snapped and pushed her off me. She fell to the ground. Her flirtatious smirk transformed into a questioning look of a kid receiving a scolding. Oh how innocent she can look when she wants to. Oh how many faces she can change in a matter of seconds just to make me feel guilty, and sorry for her. I don’t move even an inch closer to her and try not to fall for her manipulations—“See what you make me do? The longer we’re together the more people are getting hurt. Me, you, Billie…"—“Don’t bring that bitch into this!"—She snapped so fast. From flirtatious manipulative girl, she turned to a maniac, furious, filled with rage, and all of that only because of this one name. But she let her loose only for a moment. She stood up and got closer to me, again. Her innocent, flirtatious facade was rebuilt in an instant.—“Now listen to me, darling. Don’t mention her in front of me ever again. Don’t even think about her. You know how she makes me feel. I’m sure you wouldn’t want to see me angry, or sad."—“I can think about whatever and whoever I want Claire. We’re done."—She smiles. Knowing she’s back on a saddle, getting into my head again—“Oh, oh. Honey, did you forget about all those wonderful things we got planned? For tomorrow, and the day after, and the day after? Do you think I would let anything ruin those wonderful plans? No. Don’t worry I love us way too much to let anything happen to our plans."—I’m losing it now, starting to scream.—“Do you even listen to what I’m telling you? And what you’re saying? What the fuck is wrong with you? You fucking psychopath."—she bursts into a laugh, right into my face. She got me exactly where she wants me. And I can’t do shit with that. I hate her but I love her. She’s hurting me but somehow she taught me to enjoy the pain, to seek it even. She’s my kidnapper, that took my sanity for a hostage, and I love her for that.—“My sweet love, my darling. This grin doesn’t suit you at all. Let me ease your pain, you know I can help you."—she hugs me, and I no longer feel the strenght to defend myself. I surrender. Surrender to her manipulations. Surrender to her love.
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What’s the problem with me? What’s the problem with my head? I’m feeling so many ways, yet, always staying the same. There’s some truth to what Claire was saying yesterday. A good head can fix many things, yet, it’s but a shallow fix. A small patch to a bleeding heart, a bandage to a broken leg. She lies next to me, a morning sun filling her face with life. It’s a paradox. How much alive can a being be even though it’s asleep, inactive, death almost. Death. Yes. I fear that’s the only way of this place, of this abduction. Death of me, death of her, death of love. It doesn’t matter. Something has to die. Otherwise, we’re trapped, forever.
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I spoke with Bille yesterday, God forbid I did so much more to Billie yesterday. How can I look Claire in the eyes after what I’ve done? I guess I can do it the same as she did after what she’s done with Joel, with Frank, even with Olie. They all were my friends, somewhere deep inside my heart they still are. But I can’t see them anymore, it hurts too much. Why the hell do I feel so guilty doing something Claire was doing to me for over a year now? Why are someone else’s wrongdoings empowering you to do wrong yourself but after you do it the empowering disappears? And leaves you in darkness, with your own thoughts, your own guilt. How does one stop this? How does one end this? It’s because of her. Because of her manipulations, her bending of reality I feel this way. How can one outsmart someone so good with words? Someone who is so good at turning everything into affection? Me wanting to break up, her cheating, me cheating everything she magically turns into affection, into love. But is it love? Is it love when you love her like a drug? When you hate her yet cannot imagine life without her? When you want to escape yet the first thought you got after leaving is of her? Is it love when you’re fucking another girl yet see her face? Is it love? Or addiction? Is it love when she no longer hides her abuse? Is it love when she wants to hurt you only to help you heal from those wounds? Is it love? Or addiction? I know the answer. I always knew the answer yet I do nothing with that. How can one cure his life of a drug, when the drug became his life? Death. Only death. Death of me, death of her, death of love. It doesn’t matter. Something has to die. Otherwise, we’re trapped, forever.
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I finally did it. I ran away. In a glimpse of strength and autonomy, I took all I was able to take and ran away. I left there my heart, I left there my innocence, I left there my tolerance, and my ignorance. I left there my love. How great would it be to say I did it myself, but I did not. It was Billie who saved me. Again. She knows me too damn well. She knows who I am, maybe even better than I know it myself. She’s seen me locking myself in a prison. I felt guilty, I felt I deserve no better. I still feel like that. But Billie’s with me, and I’m with her, and I no longer see Claire when I lie next to her. I left her, alone, with her demons, I couldn’t have helped her. No one could. We could’ve only delayed the inevitable. Me, Joel, Frank, Olie—we had no power to change her fate. She was not made for this world.
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It was in the news, two days after I left her a note on a table with my final goodbye. Girl jumped off the third floor, breaking both her legs. I don’t plan on visiting her. Never. I know this was the last attempt to hook me up again. To make me relapse for the one last time. And I would, if not for Billie. She saved me. She is my partner in crime, helping me with murder. Because, after all, it really was the death that ended it all. Not death of me, not death of Claire. But the death of love. And how can you kill love? Only with stronger love. Something always has to die. And when it does, you’re free to walk out of your trap, of your cage. But only to walk into another one, and, repeat the cycle—all over again.
This story was inspired by the song “stupid kids” made by EKKSTACY. There’s no real story I used as a springboard and no bigger message I had in mind. I simply played the song, and let my overthinking brain do the rest. Maybe you can find some deeper meaning in what I wrote, maybe not. Both are fine.