Wednesday, June 21, 2017

The Morning

She sat in the dark early morning hours, wrapped in her covers. It was still the middle of May, and the weather warranted such. She tossed it off of her and rose to the side of the bed. A glance at her alarm clock revealed 5:56 AM. Not an unusual time for her to wake, but she still felt a bit out of it. As she wiped the cold out of her eyes, she laid back on the bed, sprawled out. Stretching for a second, she reached to the far right corner of the mattress, which had a corner dresser.

Her outstretched hand fingered around behind the lamp that she had yet to turn on and grasped something she knew she was looking for. The touch of it alone gave her the first smile of her day, and maybe the best. For a few moments she played with it, toyed with it, like it was meant for a child. She knew full well that it wasn’t a toy, however.

She rose up and stood on her two feet to click the light on, only to reveal a sleeping man on the opposite of where she had slept. Almost instantaneously, she clicked the light off again.

She chuckled to herself and scurried off into the bathroom, shutting the door behind her. She cut the lights on behind her, and took a good look at herself before putting her face on. Even though she knew she didn’t need that superficial bullshit, it was a part of being a woman in today’s America.

Brushes to her eyes and face proved to make her even more beautiful than before. Her features glowed, even sparkled in the mirror in front of her. She looked down at her nails and decided they were fine, even though they were fading for the hot pink they were painted less than a week ago. Taking a quick stir around the room, she realized there was a chair in the back corner. Reaching for her phone, she realized it wasn’t in her pajama bottoms.

Venturing back into the bedroom, she tiptoed as to not wake him. As she reached the bed, he grumbled and had begun to move around in his sleep. She stopped and waited, just to be sure. He rolled a few times, mumbling gibberish. Slowly reaching her hand for the phone, she grabbed it without notice.

He was prone to have nightmares, but she knew no better. He was only here for the night, it was agreed upon yesterday that as soon as he woke up, he was out.

Heading back to the bathroom, she slammed the door behind her, with the intent of waking him up. Nothing came of it. She waited for minutes, and heard no bangs on the door, no pleads to let him in. On the counter laid her toy that she had taken from the dresser.

She racked her brain thinking of ways to wake him up, even taking it off of the counter and giving herself the all familiar feeling of it grazing across her thumb, back and forth. Doing so made her feel comfort, as if she was at home with a plate of pasta on the table.

She was home.

There was nobody to blame but him, and maybe her.

To be clear, he had did nothing wrong, per se. Except pick the wrong one last night. She seemed innocent enough, but that was a part of the hunt. She was the furthest thing from a whore, but once she got her claws into you, you could consider yourself a scar in her game.

She laughed to herself just how fun he was. The way that more drinks and more dancing was his suggestion, the way that it was his idea to listen to “her’ music. The fact that he wanted this so bad, maybe some how made it better, for her.

She silently stepped out of the bathroom, taking ease on the door, realizing how light of a sleeper he was. Toy in tact, she clicked the light on briefly to make sure he was where she thought he was.

He was.

She turned it off, and stepped on top of the bed. Just as she did, her phone vibrated, scaring the shit out of her. She flinched, and caused a vibration on the bed. Apparently not enough to wake him, as she jumped down and answered the notification that had disturbed her.

“Good morning,” it read.

She replied the same back, and then turned her phone on silent.

Climbing back onto the bed, she tried her best to evenly distribute the weight between both of her legs. Evidently she had done a good job, as he was still snoring away. She bent over and picked up his phone, and read missed texts notifications from his male counterparts before tossing it back on the bed.

It didn’t matter anyway. None of this did.

She knelt down, draping his body, end to end.

Reaching for her toy out of the pocket of her pajama bottoms, she placed her thumb against it. She smiled, and rose her thumb against the safety blade, and bled out against the only man she ever loved.

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