Chapter sixty-five
Matt
I move her head off of my chest and admire her, sleeping. Next to me.
She's a saint. My fucking Angel. I really shouldn't have come here. She saw the cuts and cried. And cried. Right in my arms. I feel so fucked-up. What's fucking new?
She thinks she's the cause of my pain. I'm the cause of my pain. She's the cause of any and all happiness and pleasure in my life.
She thinks I'm lying when I tell her I love her. Quite the opposite.
I've never loved anybody more. I've never been so sure about anything in my life.
I know she's worried about me and I don't want her to be worried about me. She focuses on me too much.
The cuts weren't even bad and I've been cutting myself since I was fifteen. It's not that big a deal. My therapist says it's not healthy but that's how I cope. That's how I stay alive. I can barely stand being alive, those are just my coping mechanisms. My therapist doesn't know shit about what it feels like to be me. Nothing against him. No one does.
It hurts way less than the pain I'm feeling inside.
These cuts are not nearly as bad as some I've done before.
I get out of the bed and turn off the lights and close down her laptop.
As I'm preparing to go to sleep I see her phone screen light up with a text from Jon.
Goodnight, it says.
Why the fuck is Jon texting her! How many times do I have to tell him to leave her the fuck alone?!
I know he fucking wants her!
He won't admit it to keep me happy but I hate lying!
He fucking lied to me, betrayed my trust, is interested in my fucking girl, and is texting her and bringing her breakfast like she's his plaything.
I pick up her phone and swipe up.
Fuck!
She has a password.
What would Novah put as her password?
What's her best friend's name?
Jason? Jonathan? Jeremy?
Josh!
I heard her calling him 'Joshie'.
I type in 'Joshie'.
Wrong.
Thank god. I would've been mad as fuck if her password was Joshie.
I've heard her talking about a cat she has back at home.
I can't remember the goddamned name though.
It started with a J, though.
She rolls over. I put the phone down on the nightstand.
I need to forget about that and be with my love. I'm so happy she doesn't want me to leave.
She wants me to stay with her.
I get under the covers. She turns over and latches onto my body, swinging her leg over mine.
I smile to myself and yawn.
God, I'm so fucking tired.
The only thing that's been keeping me up for the last day is Vodka and the excitement of physical pain. No sleep, even,
I welcome the feeling of pain. It feels familiar. Homely even...
I get to sleep with my love.
Last night I stayed up all night thinking of her and feeling shitty as fuck for putting her in the hospital and devastated that she doesn't want to be with me.
I could barely fall asleep because I couldn't get the image of her expression when I hurt her feelings, out of my mind. That, paired with my sister's dead body that kept appearing in my dreams. I woke up in a cold sweat without Novah there next to me.
I didn't bother going back to sleep after that.
I stayed awake looking at pictures of her. Her smile, one that I hadn't seen all of today.
Her beautiful curly hair.
Her clothes. I was holding them like a sad puppy.
I was obsessing over what she might've thought about my poem.
I didn't even go to school today.
I drove my car out to the forest and sat in my car, writing poem after poem about her, drinking strong ass Vodka, and getting high off of my own self-inflicted pain.
I'm a fucking dumbass.
Worthless and undeserving of her love. Yet, she loves me. I think.
I push my thoughts away and focus on the feeling of her body against mine.
She starts mumbling something.
She talks in her sleep.
One time, I was awake, writing and I heard her saying something.
I listened closer and heard her saying 'I love you too,'
I was really curious as to who she was saying this to in her dreams.
I heard her muttering something.
'I do, Matt. I want......' she started saying something inaudible. I smiled at the sound of my name on her full lips.
That led me to think about how it sounds when she moans my name over and over and over....
After I'd masturbated I'd thought about how she'd finally said it. Yes, in her sleep but at least I know she's thinking it.
I was so happy that I'd heard her say it for myself.
I still get happy the few times I hear her say it.
She's still not completely comfortable saying it to a 'person she's just met'
She says that so often. I don't understand why the length of time you've known someone means so much to her.
That doesn't mean shit. Someone could betray you in a second and you've known them for half your life.
The amount of time you've known someone doesn't mean shit.
Feelings are real.
My feelings for are more than real, they're fucking unreal.
It's un-fucking-real how much I love this woman.
I kiss her forehead and lay my head on her chest.
She smells good. Like coconut and rose petals. I know its all that shit she uses on her body. Lotion and conditioner and hair product.
I love it, though.
"I love you," I mumble against her chest.
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