They call it a broken heart for a reason. Something inside me really was broken. She was with him at this very moment, likely in his bed, being touched – I massaged my chest in a dull sort of agony. I thought of her on the floor, wasted; me lifting her onto the couch. "You're like a sack of potatoes," I'd said.
"My dad used to call me that when I was little," she said. "Then he'd rape me up the ass. You can too. I know you want to, everybody else does. I'll just wait."
"Wait for what?"
"For you to be done."
A little later she was lying on her back with her head in my lap. "You're the only one who didn't," she said. "The only one ever. Why didn't you?"
"I'm a hero," I said.
"You're my hero." Her slender fingers brushed my jawline, my cheekbone, curled my hair back over my ear. Three days later she was fucking her coke dealer and a week after that her number had changed.
Steven Wolfe lives in Houston, TX.
"My dad used to call me that when I was little," she said. "Then he'd rape me up the ass. You can too. I know you want to, everybody else does. I'll just wait."
"Wait for what?"
"For you to be done."
A little later she was lying on her back with her head in my lap. "You're the only one who didn't," she said. "The only one ever. Why didn't you?"
"I'm a hero," I said.
"You're my hero." Her slender fingers brushed my jawline, my cheekbone, curled my hair back over my ear. Three days later she was fucking her coke dealer and a week after that her number had changed.
Steven Wolfe lives in Houston, TX.
3 comments:
Damn. You can't save them all.
Damn. You can't save them all.
The 'then he'd rape me up in the ass' part was twisted because I did not see it coming. I wouldn't expect a woman with a broken heart to say something so forward. Nicely done.
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