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Post by steph2 on Nov 22, 2011 19:10:47 GMT -5
| [atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, background-image:url(http://i54.tinypic.com/2vafwqd.jpg), border: solid #ffffff 5px; width: 400px; height: 500px;] The music was so loud, Svetlana felt like her ears were clogged. Clad in a barely there sleeveless, red mini dress and shiny, black, patent Mary Jane pumps, she dripped with seduction as she moved with the music, her baby hairs clinging to her forehead as beads of sweat rolled down her golden skin. She couldn't see anyone, couldn't hear anyone, everything sounded muffled and far away, even the large, buff man behind her with his hard six pack and the way he danced against her from behind, his hands grabbing so roughly at her waist, hips, and thighs, she thought he was going to rip her skin off. But she liked it. She liked the touching, she way he made pain shoot through her body as he violently bit her neck. He wanted more and she could tell from the hard log that was against her behind. She continued dancing against him, eventually turning around so it looked like they were having sex on the dance floor.
Svetlana was once again high. It had been three days since she slept with Porter on the beach and honestly? It sucked. She didn't like it at all but she thought maybe, if she thought about Nolan, said his name, convinced herself it was him violently pummeling into her and not Charlotte's fiancee, she'd feel better about it but he wasn't anything like Nolan. He didn't curse every time she did something that made him feel good. He didn't give her Eskimo kisses. He didn't hold her tightly so the connection felt real. He was just like all the others-she was their toy for them to forget about their problems...He was like Nolan on the very first night.
She'd been running low on skag, surprisingly, from the first batch he'd given her. She'd been taking too much lately. Every time she felt like she was coming down from the high, she injected more-not wanting to ever feel reality smack her in the face. But she danced and danced and danced with this stranger who was probably in his late twenties or early thirties and before she knew it, she was in the back hallway of the club and she was pressed against the wall while their tongues wrestled with each other. She could feel him easily against her but right when he was about to do the deed, she pushed him off of her, "No," she said in a drunken slur. She probably shouldn't have had so many drinks but she didn't care. She wanted to stop everything from spinning and to keep her mind off Porter and Charlotte and her mother and...Nolan. She didn't like going home anymore and she didn't know why she felt guilty about it. It wasn't like Nolan was her boyfriend or anything.
But when she said no, she felt a sharp smack across her face and she stumbled a bit as he cursed and said something but she wasn't listening. Her mind was still reeling back in from the smack he'd given her. She watched him walk away as she slumped onto the ground, not caring about the people who occasionally walked by to go to the bathroom. Fumbling for her cellphone, she dialed the number of her old cell, which she'd given to Nolan, and when she heard his voice, she laid down on her side with her back against the wall, "I miss you,babe," she mumbled, hoping her could hear her over the music, "and I'm sorry."
She didn't know what she was doing at that point. She'd been mixing her pills with the heroin and it was making her loopy beyond belief. She ended up letting her eyelids close, practically falling asleep and forgetting she still had her phone on in her hand.
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Post by hkblood on Nov 26, 2011 22:56:04 GMT -5
] [atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, background-color: dddddd; border: #cccccc solid 8px; width: 420px; padding: 15 5 15 5px;] WE FOUND LOVE IN A HOPELESS PLACE The Words: 950 The Outfit: this The Notes: FINALLY The morning he woke up beside her and then they had one of the best fucks of his lifetime – the whole day was fucking brilliant to Nolan. After sex, they had a quick shower and made their way to breakfast. Nolan couldn’t recall a day when breakfast tasted so good and he never remembered a time where his heart was filled with such joy to just be with another person. She brought him out to buy clothes, despite how many times he declined or tried to get bargain deals, his princess wouldn’t have it and bought him top of the line. It had been too much and when he went to go to his basement, he wanted her to have the painting of her. His princess in gold, fuchsia, and violet – she brought him home with her again. He found himself packing up boxes and moving his stuff into her pool house.
It came with a change in their relationship – a relationship with more meaning when she was on the high and little to none when she was off it. In fact, it bothered him that she would wipe her hands of him when she was sober. She didn’t want anything to do with him; she couldn’t even look at his face when she was leaving the house for the day. Then when it was nightfall and Nolan was learning how to cook with Rachel Ray guiding him how, she’d come home high and act smitten, want to touch him and want to be touched. Then in the morning if they had sex or if it was just cuddles, she’d slither away without waking him. He would wake up to an empty bed and maybe, in the back of his mind, and the aching in his heart, already told him to pack it up and leave before he couldn’t live without her.
Some nights he locked himself in the pool house after dinner and painted for hours, sometimes it was nothing but angry slashes on the canvas until he allowed himself to cry or he gave in and got so high that everything was survivable. He had been fine, living the life of a starving artist, drug dealer, only living child of two parents who disowned him. He was getting along, but now everything seemed to bother him – it didn’t hurt so much to know how unwanted you were. He didn’t care or he told himself he didn’t, but now he cared. He cared and cried an unmanly thing to do, more than he had in years.
Maybe if his parents did drugs, then they would be like Svetlana, and when they were high they would want him around. Then he would be worthy in the eyes of the rich – he wouldn’t be such a cockroach.
She gave him her old cellphone and it made his need to call and hear his mother’s voice worse than it had been in the past. He called every other day to just hear her welcome her callers warmly and encourage them to leave a message. Sometimes she answered, happily sounding as she did on the machine, but all he could do was sit on the other line quietly until she got frustrated and hung up the phone. Other times it was his dad who answered and Nolan would disconnect – fear would take over and he would have to get high to not think about the old man.
Nights like this he sat and watched the Kardashians go through their daily lives. Television had been something he never had the luxury to watch and now he found himself sucked up by it for hours. He almost didn’t hear his phone ring, but he answered muting the television to focus. Only Princess called this phone, only her. He could barely hear her words over the booming music – but how quiet she was made him anxious. Her words, she called him babe, she apologized – she needed him. There were only a few places she could be. He shoved the phone in his pants, his new wallet in the back pocket, and a jacket she bought over his shoulders and he took off running.
When he found her car, he knew she was in there and although getting into clubs was impossible before, now that he had money to spend (although he found himself with a bank account and just stashing all of what he could); he could get in to find her. Adrenaline was pumping, but when he found her, passed out on the ground it made him even more nervous. She had been taking too many doses and he couldn’t stop her – he ruined her. He hated himself – she made him hate himself for many reasons. Yet, he didn’t want to admit it, but he fell in love with her already. He loved her to passionately to leave her side – he was truly just a little kicked puppy to her, but to him, she was the most coveted thing to him in this world.
It would never be returned, but it didn’t have to be. He just needed her to need him. He needed a purpose.
He carried her home to her house after making sure her car was locked and nothing inside it would compel someone to steal something out of it by means of busting a window. His walk with her was silent and when he got her home, he found himself carrying her up to her bedroom to put her to sleep. She needed rest and he would give it to her by sleeping the night in the pool house. She didn’t know he bought himself a bed in there – his secret.
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Post by steph2 on Nov 26, 2011 23:57:20 GMT -5
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She couldn't feel when he picked her up or when he was walking but what she did feel was a sudden wave of security she couldn't let go of. She just buried her face, slowly but surely, into his scent and his heart beat, letting it take her off to wherever it was they were going. She didn't care. She just knew that as long as he was there, she didn't mind even sleeping under a bridge. As she felt her body on the familiar bed, her eyes slowly opened and she reached out to him, managing to grab his fingers lightly and with a pleading look in her eyes, she looked up at his a bit groggily, "Don't go," she spoke quietly as she looked at him, not wanting him to leave her. She felt a wave of panic hit her, "Stay with me...talk? Please, babe?" she tugged a bit on his fingers so he could comply to her wishes. She wasn't asking for much, was she? She hoped she wasn't anyway.
Once he was in bed with her, she turned so she was facing him, her one hand letting her fingers interlock with his own. She kept her eyes firmly on his own even if her;s were partially lidded and she didn't seem entirely there. She was...she just didn't know how to show it, "Tell me about your life," she kept her voice hushed like speaking loudly might become painful, "I want to know everything," and she did. She wanted to know about him inside out because she could only guess so much from his paintings which hung all around their house. She loved them, especially when she was sober and could fully appreciate them, but that was just it. It was starting to physically hurt to be sober and it scared her so much, she just avoided being sober all together. She couldn't even dance right without getting high. She wasn't able to let loose and just relax like she used to because everything just hurt all the time. The only time it didn't hurt was when she was with him and high at the same time. When she was sober, she couldn't bring herself to look at him out of guilt. She couldn't imagine what she was putting him through. She was doing to him what everyone else had done to her. It wasn't just sex. It wasn't just drugs. She was hopelessly in love with him in the most twisted and scary of ways but she couldn't bring herself to say it much less admit it. He was beautiful with his tattoos, his full lips, his silly puppy grin, the way he called her princess, the way he looked when he was painting and didn't think she was watching...he was the definition of beauty and she felt like all she did was bring him down just like she would eventually bring down Porter and Charlotte and her Mama Bear. They'd all come crashing down just like her...
"Because I'll be leaving really soon," she bit her lower lip, "and no one can come with me...so I want to remember you perfectly," she was planning her escape plan because once the news broke that she was pregnant with Porter's child...it was going to go downhill and everything would be over. She didn't plan on disappearing like she would tell anyone who asked. She didn't plan on running away to another state or country to change her name and life. No, she planned on ending it all quickly and painlessly. She just had to get up enough guts to actually do it.
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Post by hkblood on Nov 28, 2011 21:24:32 GMT -5
[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, background-color: dddddd; border: #cccccc solid 8px; width: 420px; padding: 15 5 15 5px;] WE FOUND LOVE IN A HOPELESS PLACE The Words: 303 The Outfit: this The Notes: this post is shameful Nolan wanted to go sleep in his room, because seeing her so exhausted made him worry that his presence would keep her up. Yet her eyes and her fingers pulling weakly for him to stay, he couldn’t leave her when she so desperately wanted him to stay. He sat on the edge of the bed and kicked oh his shoes, pulled off his jacket and laid beside her. He just looked into her eyes and the guilt burned into him and it was painful for him to even try to cope with what he’s done to her. He destroyed her and how she couldn’t hate him for that, he didn’t know. She made it painfully clear that he wasn’t good enough without the heroin. On the heroin, he was good enough. In the end he did this to her so he would be good enough. She didn’t love him, but he loved her to the point it hurt. He needed to save her.
He didn’t understand what she meant by she would be leaving soon, but maybe it just meant that she was going to leave him and try to be sober. He could deal with that, but he didn’t think that was what she was going to do. “I was born to two parents, they had my little sister, everything was fine and then my sister died, they exiled and hate me and now I deal drugs and live in your pool house.” He didn’t want to tell her more than that, but he pulled her close to his body. “Princess, tell me what’s wrong.” He kissed her forehead, gave her an eskimo kiss. “Talk to me, baby.” He didn’t know what was wrong her, but he knew there was something and he just wanted to know what was wrong with her.
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Post by steph2 on Nov 28, 2011 22:13:30 GMT -5
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Svetlana listened to his words and she leaned into him as he pulled her closer, gripping his shirt and burying her face in his chest. He smelled good. Like paint and that cologne she'd gotten him. Bleu by Chanel. She liked it. It was a unique smell she could definitely get used to. So he had a little sister who died...That was sad. She didn't mean that in a condescending way-it really was sad, depressing in fact especially if he had been close to her-which she imagined he was. She figured all siblings had this undying bond between them only because she had that type of bond with Charlotte and Reese-though the first more so than the latter. As he asked her what was wrong, she moved even closer to him and hid her face, "I'm pregnant," she said quietly, "and I wish it was yours," she said it so quietly, not wanting entirely to see or hear his reaction, "because then I wouldn't want it to be dead."
It was such a horrible thing to say, even out loud, even internally. But it had come out like word vomit and she couldn't feel bad about saying it. It was already done. Looking up at him, finally, her eyes wavered, "I don't hate you, Nolan," she brushed her lips affectionately though a bit wearily against his own, "when I'm sober, when I'm not....thoughts of you are always running through my head...you consume me down to the very fiber of my being," she didn't know why she was getting so touchy. Oh yeah-she planned on dying sometime in the near future. She wanted him to know but she couldn't exactly tell him that she was madly in love with him. No, that was something he'd have to figure out on his own. She couldn't break that promise to herself, "I'm not good enough for you when I'm sober," she admitted, "You only got with me when I was high, right?" it was more rhetorical than anything, "So why would you ever want me sober when I'm such a mean and horrible person."
In Svetlana's head, it made complete sense. To an outsider-she probably sounded like a lunatic.
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Post by hkblood on Nov 29, 2011 17:01:12 GMT -5
[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, background-color: dddddd; border: #cccccc solid 8px; width: 420px; padding: 15 5 15 5px;] WE FOUND LOVE IN A HOPELESS PLACE The Words: 655 The Outfit: this The Notes: heartbroken nolan ahead She smelt like the club she had been at – sweat, body odor, and her skin still felt damp. He held her close because his entire body felt like he needed to feel her heartbeat to survive. He loved her and he wished she would just say it back to him so he could convince himself she loved him. Even if she didn’t mean it, if she could just say it, he would believe and he would do whatever he could for her. He would run a marathon, he would get his shit together, he would get his parents to love him and she would see he came from money and he was good enough for her and…
It was so quiet, but he would never mistake those words. Words that he once feared, words that with her he accepted, happily.
I’m pregnant.
But then his world flipped and his stomach lurched. It wasn’t his? How could it not be his? How could these path two months of fucking each other make it not his? How could all that fucking cum he’s put in her make it not his? How could she fucking know it was not him? Why was he mad? They weren’t dating. She didn’t love him, he really was just a fuck buddy and the guy who painted her and cleaned the house and made food that she hardly fucking ate because shit he made wasn’t good enough for her. He wasn’t good enough for her. He should just get that through his thick head?
And she was going on about how she didn’t hate him and about how he was always in her head, but he didn’t want any of this. He didn’t want to hear her lie to him, he pulled away from her. He never felt so hurt in his life, he wanted to cry and he couldn’t stop himself from crying in front of her. The first time he’s done such a thing in front of her. “How could it not be mine? How could it not be mine!?” He got off the bed, wiping tears that seemed to be an onslaught from his own body. He betrayed himself.
“How could after two months of fucking me could it not be mine? You…. All those things you just said are a lie! You do hate me, you hate me so fucking much. You just want me to fucking feel bad and suck up to you. Well fucking look at these tears Svetlana, because you fucking hurt me every damn day because I fucking love you. Sober or fucking not, no matter how fucking mean you are to me. I fucking love you, but it wasn’t fucking enough if you have another guy and his baby or what the fuck ever. It’s my fucking baby, but go ahead, kill it!”
He found the first painting of her and ripped it off the wall, throwing it down the stairs. “The first night – I didn’t think you would ever want to see this scummy face again after getting skag. I did do it with you because you were high. But that second time, I fell fucking in love with you and I was going to try to show you what I’m fucking worth, you know, be good enough for whoevers baby you have, but it doesn’t fucking matter. My feelings have never mattered to anyone! Not you. Not my Mom. Not my Dad when he abused me. Not the cops. Or my friends. So just fucking do what you want. I’ll go fucking find somewhere to fucking sleep tonight.”
All of what he said through sobs, he found himself taking all his paintings off the walls and throwing outside on the lawn. What did she care? She didn’t. She was going to kill their baby. It just had to be his baby, it just had to be.
He loved her too much.
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Post by steph2 on Nov 29, 2011 17:42:28 GMT -5
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Fear and regret rushed into her face as her eyes widened at his reaction. She sat completely still as she watched him, clutching the covers tightly. She was wide awake now and she had no idea where the adrenaline rush came from. As he pulled down the paintings from the wall she felt herself crying quietly from how horrible she felt both emotionally and physically. All she had to say were those three magical little words-truthful words that she knew she'd mean with all her heart...But as she watched him throw the paintings down the stairs, she couldn't say it. Whenever she opened her mouth to say something, another crash from another painting drowned out any thoughts of what she was going to say. She messed up. She messed up big time. She ruined Charlotte, ruined Porter, ruined herself and even worse? She ruined Nolan.
Standing, silently and though stumbling a bit at first, she was glad she didn't have her heels on as she started walking past him, too ashamed to look him in the eye. Without a single word, she picked up one of the paintings and clad in whatever she was wearing, not caring about the fact she didn't have shoes on, started toward the door, "If I say it back...it means you win," she said quietly but just loud enough, her voice hoarse, as she finally gave one more fleeting, desperate glance over her thin shoulder at him. Hesitating a bit, she grabbed her gym bag which was in the closet and then walked right out the front door. She had her cellphone but the battery was half dead. Either way, where she was going she wouldn't need it. She started down the driveway headed in whatever direction. Maybe it was pride that was keeping her from telling him she loved him. Pride her mother had forcibly instilled into her to teach her not to become as vulnerable or make the same mistakes she had.
And maybe this was what happened to her mother only instead of being selfish and killing off the baby, she kept her and became the monster she always wanted.
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