literature

My Sweet Relief.

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Literature Text

The sidewalk, the alleyway, the street. It was her home, one would think it as unusual. She'd watch as strangers would pass by, each telling a story. Each limb spoke. The bruises, the love marks, and the damage, each had would say something about their possessor. Women with bruises on their pale ankles looked frigid. Men with  large hands to abuse their lovers but conveyed as handsome gentlemen.

It was different with each one, it was as if each being was an actor in a movie. The street sidewalk she took shelter on was a busy one indeed. It varied from a very sensual one to a quiet eldritch one. The lights that would take place during the evening were most beautiful.

However, whenever she was with him, everything was beautiful. She engulfed in his embrace for it threw all her worries, her anxiety away. All of it gone, with just one touch from him. She wanted him, she needed him.

Unfortunately, he only thought of her as another user. Another victim to his wrath. Another victim in the hands of his own. She was nothing more to him than that.  He drove her insane, he convinced her to do things out of the ordinary. He didn't care if she lived nor died, for she was the one who devoted her life and her health to him. She surrendered her whole being just for him to bring her elation.

This life, or what little of it she had was beautiful to her. Of course she knew deep down that if she were to stay with her abuser, she would surely die. Her sunken in blood shut eyes told her story. A cold broken pale woman defeated at the hands of a man whose intention was to maim her.  The radical woman would sit against a building in angst awaiting for the moment she could have him inside of her being. His aura around her once more is what she'd crave. Whether it was killing her slowly or not.

Ah yes, he was the reason she was booted out of her home by her relatives. When in actuality, she was kicked out due to her massive addiction for him. Total ecstasy is what she felt with him. He numbed her entire being from the ecosystem around her. No matter what, she'd have him with her. She made sure of that. Her guardians have attempted to take action and destroy her bond with him. Unfortunately they failed and had given up on their poor daughter.

. . . . .

She lied on the sidewalk on her side clutching at her abdomen. Her coughs were anything but silent. Her beautiful pale skin now bruised, her veins made themselves known from every limb on her body. He had slayed her, his victim, his casualty. She felt very weary as she took her final inhale. Her lips parted and spat out the cancer stick for one last time, her lips then curved upward into a smirk. She was going to die her on the sidewalk she was thrown out on, and it all was caused by one tiny  stick of tobacco.

Of course it was only fitting,



It was her home.
The stress within a day is more than breath taking, and yet just one glimpse, just one take from within him seems to push it all away. At least, for the moment.
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