The Visitor

Billowing steam filled the cramped shower stall, although the water felt chillingly cold. The water stung the fresh scratches and bruises on my legs and arms as I tried to rinse the feeling of haunting guilt away.

Water droplets slowly slid down the tile, mocking the tears that streamed down my face. I held my head underneath the flow of water, hoping that it would somehow cleanse my mind of the memories of last night. Her presence felt strange as she embraced me, held me down, and tore into my flesh.

I felt as though she was trying to mark me, to claim me as hers. Either that, or she was ripping at my flesh in attempts to scar my soul. Lucky for her, the damage was already done.

My body quivered at the temperature of the scalding hot water. My skin, flushed with red, begged for mercy as I subjected it to torture for the second time in a span of a few hours. I examined each scratch on my seemingly flawless skin, and let out a painful scream directed towards my own conscious.

I don't know how to explain what happened, or how I allowed myself to become trapped in my own fear. I remember, lying there, helpless and paralyzed as she inflicted me with wounds. I felt as though I was engaging in some ritualistic sacrifice, silent and unable to stop the music that cued my damnable fate.

I left the bathroom, draped in fatigue, to find her lying across the bed with a teasing smile across her face. I walked towards her, and kissed her painfully hoping she could feel every ounce of hurt she had given me.

As her body shook and her moans of pleasure became louder, I prayed that I pleased the her that overwhelmed me last night. I didn't want to meet her again.

High Fantasies

I tightened the vice around my bruised arm with an unsteady touch. I slowly lifted the full syringe to my veins and my mind filled with a thousand thoughts. My body craved this lethal poison, but my mind gave me reason upon reason to stop and walk away.

Once again, I was overcome by the lust of my flesh and I let the passioned poison seep through my veins and tear through my flesh. Every inch of my being anticipated the sensation, the smell, and seduction of this encounter while I mind fucked myself. They say it's never as good as the first time.

I needed more and more to satisfy my habit, to quench the thirst that seemed to be fueled by the fire between my thighs. It was never enough, not anymore, and I found myself slipping into the shadows of my own fantasies.

She could never give me what I wanted, or what I truly needed. My body told me different. I flooded my thoughts with explosions of ecstasy as my body writhed in pain.

I faked my own high.

I laid there panting heavily, desperately grasping for the air of clarity to fill my lungs and renew my soul. Instead, I laid there, paralyzed by the inhalation of vile smoke.

I quivered at her sight.

She was my addiction.

True. Fiction.

I stood in my spotty bathroom mirror, looking into my hollow eyes. There was no sparkle, no gleam, no sense or hope of life. Instead, I saw an empty reflection of my soul. I've always heard that the eyes were the window to the soul, but what if you feel like your soul is gone?

Day to day, I've watched my chestnut brown eyes dwindle from vibrant sparkles of life to the black hue of nothingness, praying that one day they would once again return to normal. I knew what I had to do...I've known it all along.

I slumped over on the bathroom floor, sobbing. My back jammed against the harsh white doorway, my bare feet shivering against the cold tile. I thought all of the tears would be gone by now, but my unsightly image in the mirror reminded me of just how much I had managed to lose myself.

How did I manage to get in this deep? Why couldn't I catch myself from the downward fall? God...why didn't I just stop this? I kept repeating "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry..." in a pleading whisper, not sure if I was speaking to myself, God, or the person in the other room.


She stood against the wall, eyes dazed, almost catatonic. I didn't know what to say, or how to approach her. "That bitch, this is all her fault," I cringed inside. If only it were true. It was as much as her fault as it was mine, and now I had a huge price to pay.

My phone rang repeatedly, and I refused to answer, knowing the conversation that was waiting on the other end. I could feel every drop of tainted disgust rising in my stomach as she watched me, speechless. I ran to the bathroom and nearly collapsed into the toilet, avoiding my own face in the mirror.

However, the reflection in the bowl's water would not be so forgiving...