|Set Fire To The Rain
Author: Franki09 PM
I stared at him in disbelief. He did NOT just say that to me. A songfic to 'Set Fire To The Rain' by Adele done for a contest on 'WritersCafe.'Rated: Fiction K+ - English - Angst/Drama - Words: 1,686 - Reviews: 2 - Favs: 2 - Follows: 1 - Published: 04-23-12 - Status: Complete - id: 3016046
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
I stared at him in disbelief. He did not just say that to me.
The cold, metallic look written all over his face as he looked me up and down was hard and empty. His eyes, once so beautiful and lively, were like black holes, sucking me down into an eternal void of nothingness; dark and shadowy, where the only sound was the soft, haunting rustle like the wind whistling through an empty, abandoned house. His expression was expectant, waiting for a response. The way he looked at me... like I was nothing more than a squashed fly under his boot, sent my heart into my mouth and blocked any sound I wanted to make. I opened my mouth, causing an eyebrow raise opposite me, but all that escaped my dry lips was a faint gasp of breath. My breathing quickened, racking my shoulders with great heaves, I couldn't think straight, this couldn't be happening, no-
I felt my heart fall in my chest. I was panting now, my lungs unable to contain the utter dejection and heartbreak that coursed like a wild fire through my veins. My ribcage was like a prison, the bars of my heart that writhed and struggled to break free from the chains of his stinging words. But, the thing that really surprised me, was that I let it. This had happened so many times before, and every time my heart was jolted out of place, he was there. He would catch it and entrance me in a kiss, scaring away the inevitable shadows. Yet now, my heart was free to fall. Free to plunge into the darkness and get swallowed up in the inky blankness.
I remembered when I had ran my hands through his hair, round his neck, his own hands. Back when we were strong. But now we were sat here, not touching, not talking, and I had collapsed off the chair and sank onto my weak knees that buckled underneath me, clutching and fumbling with the arm of the chair like I was drowning. I managed to turn my head to face him, to set him down with my cold, hard stare, but when I looked at him his expression was like the sun - blinding me, forcing me to turn away. He made me feel small, helpless, weak.It was the feeling I had felt every time I had stood in his arms, but multiplied by the infinite number of the universe. All those times when I had restrained from falling to his feet in that powerful grasp, and now here I was, unable to move or think straight.
All those times, every day we had been together, he had been lying to me. All the while, there had been a side to him I had never known, like a lion lurking in a cage. Every time he told me he had loved me, they were lies. He was manipulative and sadistic, and I had been so naive and submissive, just another piece in his sick games without realizing it.
I couldn't take it anymore. The atmosphere in the room that hung in the air like meat in a butchers shop had thickened until it was hard to breathe, constricting my lungs and ruthlessly chocking the air out of my throat. My arms that had once been so strong had become weak and feeble, but I was in such a state I forced them to haul myself up, shifting all my weight onto them. I gasped with something I couldn't recognise. Pain? No, it couldn't be. Not physical pain anyway. My arm's sudden weakness could only be explained by his words in that single sentence he had said. The way he so carelessly tossed that language about, the way he had dared call me that word.After all we had been through together.
I pulled myself up and ignored his demands of protest, the sound only a distant ringing in my ears. Storming up the stairs, I let a small smile spread across my face at the realization that I had stood up for myself. The feeling of total independence was exhilarating.
Our bedroom door slammed against the wall as I yanked it with so much force I'm surprised it didn't come off it's hinges, before I had charged to the cupboard and was pulling out a suitcase before he could start pounding up the stairs. I heard his angry voice from downstairs. Knowing there was no time to lose, I thrust the drawers open and started violently shoving my clothes in an untidy mess. I could hear his heavy footsteps now as he started ascending up the stairs, I had to hurry, he was nearly here-
He called out my name again, his deep voice holding a softness that masked the hatred beneath it. I couldn't bring myself to answer him, didn't want to. He had gone too far, he was cutting his close before but now, I had had enough.
There, I had finished packing. I snapped the suitcase shut and barged past him just as he was at the door. "Babe..." he started, but his words were cut off as I hurried down the stairs, placing unnecessary force in my footsteps just to block out his words. Pulling my coat off the rack and opening the door to reveal rain hammering against the paving outside only fuelled my anger. I could hear him again now, his tone more urgent when he realized that I actually was leaving.
Leaving. That's a nice thought.
The heavy showers had soaked me in seconds but I didn't care. It was refreshing, in a way, to get away from the stuffy, all too thick air from that blasted place. I was never going back. Not now. The rain plastered my hair to my forehead, sending chills fluttering like waves on the sea down to my bones. My skin was wet and cold.
"I'm sorry." I heard him call behind me. I ignored him, doing my best to block out his words. Nothing he says could change my aim now. "I'm sorry!" he shouted again, louder this time. Should I turn around? No, I've got to carry on walking, don't look at him, act strong-
"Look, I'm sorry, alright? Stop being such a drama quee-"
Right, that was it. I spun round to face him, my face scarlet with fury. "Drama queen?" I spat, disbelief that he hadn't stopped there, no, he just had to continue by calling me a drama queen.His face took on a mildly confused expression, but his eyes gave away the fact he probably couldn't care less what happened next, just so long as I stayed with him to earn his money and put food on his plate and beer in his glass. "So that's what you think this is? I'm just, overreacting ,now, am I?"
His face remained chaste and stoic. I stepped forwards, all words gone as I peered at him. His once handsome, now contorted by angst and depression, face. Unable to stop myself, I ran a single finger down his cheekbone, rubbing my thumb across the bags under his eyes. He flinched slightly. I couldn't stop the tears that started to fall. Springing up in the corners of my eyes and flecking my lashes, rolling down my face and leaving a salty, acidic taste stinging my mouth. They mingled with the rain, rendering my face wetter than it already was.
Something burned inside me. Anger, hatred, I didn't know what it was. But it was a flame, starting up deep inside of me, screaming out his name. I could feel the tendons of my body being torn apart by contrasting emotions, like my body was formed entirely of tissue paper. The feel of his skin beneath my fingertips whisked my mind back to when everything was perfect.
I stared up at the bedroom ceiling, our bedroom ceiling. He was beside me, his strong arm under my waist and his shoulder supporting my head. We lay there, in blissful harmony. The moment was so peaceful I allowed myself to close my eyes and just lie there, with him, forever. Just the warmth of his skin against mine - nothing could have been better.
But that moment had been a lie. It had all been a lie.
It seems like the weather had decided it wasn't enough, and so sent down another torrent of rain that pounded against the tarmac and a howling wind as an added bonus. I wanted to scream out his name, make things go back to normal, but I couldn't. Things would ever be the same, not after this.
Then, before I could do anything or protest, his arms had wrapped around me and he kissed me. I wanted to pull away, flee, and looking back on it now, I hated myself for staying there in his embrace and worse, kissing him back. The damp of our clothes didn't matter, all that existed was me and him. I knew this would be the last time I would ever kiss him, I could tell from the way he touched me.
Then he pulled away, and I was left dumbfounded and angry. I wanted to slap him but I also wanted to kiss him again, but when I saw his face that bore exactly the same expression he had before, I wanted to do neither.
I glanced at him, looking him up and down in the manner a petrified rabbit would the barrel of a gun before making a run for it, then looking right and left and hurrying away, not looking back.
He didn't call my name. I didn't look back. I had thrown our relationship and trust into the fire that burned bright inside me, and was watching as it burned. I let it. I watched as it crumbled down to ashes, still glowing faintly from the heat.
Let it burn...