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Creative Writing Horror

The Spaces Between Your Words

The blurriness of consent was a smooth journey from No to Yes. Maybe this supposed love story was a scintilla of a lie. She kept on asking: Do you not see me? You don’t. And that’s why I keep my emotions locked up in the attic of my heart.

The violence he unleashed with a slap was supposed to fall within the province of love. So, what did the blouse feel when it was torn apart? It didn’t feel a thing. Just like she didn’t feel a thing.

Instead of stopping, but with appeasement in his mind, just like how his mother always fed him chocolate when he cried, he plugged a Mars into her mouth. And chocolate became the band aid for the trauma he suffered in childhood, and the trauma he was serving like a cold dish.

And, it’s in the dark night of his heart that he planned. He wanted her to love him. She saw the potential in him to be cruel. Loss? Who likes that? He didn’t. No one does. He lost his mother 5 years ago, and so he had practice in losing and making others lose, too.

Tying her hands, he fed her MDMA, which mimics beta-endorphin, the neurochemical of love. He felt her body relax, and blend into him. But he knew that when the drug wears off, she will be like his mother: not knowing how to love.

He listened to her, and heard the words she said. But he only listened to the spaces between those words. It was just silence. He was all alone in the world today. Yet as he laughed in April, neither he nor anyone else thought he’d cry tears in May while holding her lifeless hand.