I still love you. I probably always will. When the light played off your hair, and the way you smiled... I still melt thinking of it. I often think of how we first met. I had just come home, and you had moved in from down the street. You were gorgeous from the word "go". Your long dark hair, your crystal blue eyes, every delicate feature at play. I ran indoors, and had to work up the courage to talk to you. But then again, you beat me to it when you knocked on my door.
You were always good at knowing when things were timed just right.
I could tell you really liked me, too. I'm not much to look at, I know. But I guess we were meant to meet. After that, you would come over, and hang out. Watching movies, playing games. When your parents were out of town, I'd sneak over and waste the night with you. Remember the time the house was struck by lightning, and your roof caught on fire? You screamed and panicked really badly. You were so afraid your parents would catch us, and blame me for trying to burn down the house! Thankfully, I ran home and got a hose and put it out. Even when your parents came home early, I made the excuse that you had run over and got my help, which kept them appeased.
I quickly kissed you goodnight when they weren't looking.
After that, we spent so much time together. I told your parents I offered to be your "tutor", and really did help you with school. But I guess I should have seen what was going on after that. You started becoming cold, not returning my calls or barely talking to me. In fact, I knew something was wrong when I saw some other boy walking out of your house. The next day I asked you about it, and you told me that you were thinking about your situation, and how maybe I was a mistake. I was on the verge of tears. Here we were, on the edge of nearly a year together, all the things I did for you, all the things I decided not to ask for, and being respectful and everything ANY GIRL COULD WANT, and I was the one who was the mistake?! I couldn't help myself when I stormed out of the house!
Then you started to torment me.
Every day, you would come over. In less and less clothing. Openly flirting with me! Openly MOCKING me! And I could do nothing, or else draw suspicion! Every time, I asked, I BEGGED you to stop, and your automatic response? "What would my parents have to say about what we've been doing?" You kept crushing my heart, over and over, and you wouldn't stop.
Then you brought your friends into it.
Mocking me. Flirting with me. Showing open contempt for me. You used me, and every time you reminded me of it, I died a little more each time. Until tonight, when I asked you to come over. You made the most of it, didn't you? Makeup, black and pink bikini, nice shoes, hair in pigtails, bubble gum, everything. You wanted to see me cry, and you did. Every single word, every barb, everything was orchestrated. You said that this was the greatest moment in your life. The realization of the "secret power" you had, and how you reveled in every second of my torture. I was just a place holder for someone more handsome, more refined, and much easier with his money.
You turned around, strutting your body, and saying that no boy could fuck you like you had fucked me.
Until I fucked your gut with the knife when you turned back, that is.
Your eyes were so wide. Did it feel like what that boy did to you? Did it feel like every time you ruined my pride? Ruined my hopes? Ruined everything that I gave for you? THAT I DID FOR YOU?! I kept thrusting and thrusting, your eyes dilating wider. I could tell you felt an explosion of pleasure. The way you shuddered with each piercing stroke, I'm sure of it. Like every night, when you would cuddle close to me, and the feeling of my fingertips on your thigh. The sensation of my lips behind your ear. The feeling of my breath on your neck line. I know all the signs, honey. We were together for about a year.
Then, like each time, you closed your eyes, and went slack. But I knew that this time, you wouldn't wake up. And I was okay with that. After all, I gave you the ultimate sensation, didn't I? No other boy could give you a thrill like that. No, not a boy. A MAN. Because that's what I am. I gave you something you would never forget, and you will never be forgotten for it. All that's left now is to clean up, and get you home. After all, tomorrow is going to be known for 3 milestones.
You start 6th grade. It's our one year anniversary. And my 42nd birthday.
Even though we're through, I'll always love you.
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