When it was over, evening done and finished, I was tired. I haven’t spent that much time on my feet in awhile and I wanted a bath that I couldn’t have. I still live in the dorms and even though I am in a downward spiral that hell itself might not be able to curb I don’t want to die by the diseases you would find in a public bath.
I have much more painful plans in mind.
I got home, turned on all of the lights and cranked the AC. I like it cold so I don’t bleed as much. When I was done I curled up under the covers. I didn’t sleep. I never do anymore.
He crawled into my bed around 4 am. He smelled of downtown and that meant he smelled like booze and cigarettes. I turned to face him and pulled my knees up so they touched my chest…a nice barrier of sorts. Unnecessary but I always made sure he knew the door wasn’t open. Baxter knew better though. He wouldn’t ever touch me while we were in bed. I barely let him touch me in much less intimate settings. I am not sure why he sticks around. I know he is as fucked up as I so maybe he just feels comfortable around me because we are the same.
I know why I stay with him. He won’t hurt me – not in the way I really fear. I am not in love with him so he can’t break my heart. But he does have all the equipment to do the proper amount of damage. But he won’t and I think he stays with me because he worries that the next guy won’t be quite so accommodating.
Truth is that he is a smoke screen. I need a male. Need to be able to say “Look I am normal and fine…” but I am not and he knows it.
He cleans me up when he notices the recent damage. I used to struggle with him about it but I honestly don’t have the energy anymore. He pulled together the cleaning supplies and put band-aids on the deeper cuts and then crawled back in bed with the intention of staying.
Rise and repeat.