The Midnight Liar
A.N. This story could best be described as an experiment. The subject matter is one that I've never before addressed in any of my stories, and the writing style is one that I have never used. Hopefully, I've managed to make it work. Please let me know what you think!
It's only a little past midnight when you walk through the door. Maybe before, in another time, I would have questioned you. But now I don't care. It's always after midnight when you come home anymore and I don't need the evidence that lingers on you to know that you've been with her. I can smell her, you know; that disgusting floral perfume she wears infests your clothing. And I can see the dark lipstick that is smudged on your neck. Dark red.
How perfect. How exciting. How wonderfully overdone. And yet, she must have excited you.
She stole you from me, after all.
At first, it hurt and you know it did because you would always look at me with guilt in your eyes. But now, there is nothing. Because I can't feel anything anymore. You destroyed me. But you knew only pleasure didn't you?
Sometimes, I lay awake at night, in the bed that once was ours, and I wonder about her. Is she prettier than I am? She must be. Does she love having sex with you or is she with you for the thrill because she knows that you're already taken? Does she moan like I once did? Does she love the feeling of you inside her like I once did? But she's made you happy and I know you're still with me only because you don't want to hurt me. You said that from the moment we got together.
I'll never hurt you. I'll always love you. I'll always protect you. We'll be together forever.
It's always funny how such lies come back to haunt us, isn't it? But you could never break a promise to me, could you? You thought you were being noble, staying with me. You thought I wouldn't find out, that I would remain blissfully unaware, thinking that we were the perfect couple, didn't you? I would never find out and then those endless promises that you made me would remain intact. But that had always been your mistake. You never knew me, you never listened, you never understood. You walked in the house one day after work and I knew you were interested in someone else. Days later, I knew she had you.
Late at night, I'd look at you, sleeping so peacefully, and all I could think about was you with her. You naked with her. You inside her. And goddamn you, I hated you for it.
But no longer.
Because I'm done.
You walk in and you see me sitting on the couch, my bags packed, surrounding me. "Baby", you say, so confused, and I can only shake my head, not wanting to hear your voice, your lies, your empty promises.
Because I'm done.
The first time we made love, so long ago now it seems, another time, another place, I gave myself to you. And when we joined, it was the most beautiful thing I had ever experienced. I loved being with you, loved holding you, and in your hands you held my heart. But you tossed me aside, didn't you? Crushed the heart given to you with such foolish trust without another thought. But it's ok.
Once, you had whispered to me you're mine, and foolishly I believed you. I was yours. Yours to keep, yours to throw away. But I can't say I regret the time we spent together. From you I learned that promises were nothing. From you I learned that maybe I'm not a person that is easy to love. Maybe I'm too difficult, too arrogant. After all, you tossed me aside for her. And it was so easy, wasn't it? I'll never be good enough. I'll never be someone's everything. I'm the one that is so easy to forget about, so easy to leave behind. I destroy people without even knowing. I have only good intentions; anyone who comes near me ends up in pain. I know that now. Thanks to you.
I stand up and maybe I should be crying. Maybe I should be screaming at you, but I can't. I've finished crying a long time ago because I can't anymore. And maybe I should feel guilty, but I can't. All of those beautiful memories of us together, back in the beginning when we were so happy, back when I could feel, have been buried. You use to tell me that it wasn't healthy to bury away so many emotions, that they would eat at me until there wasn't anything left. Instead I have discovered that it's my salvation, the one reason why I haven't broken.
I'm tired of being thrown aside so many times. I'm tired of the endless broken promises, the lies that seem to pour from your lips. Maybe that is what hurts the most; that you do not respect me enough to be truthful. But instead you lie to me. You always lie to me.
Once upon a time you told me you loved me. Once upon a time I believed you. But I can't anymore.
You stand there in the doorway, watching me as I pick up my few bags. I don't know where I'll go; what does it matter? Maybe you'll fall asleep tonight in the bed that once was ours and you'll wonder where I am. A bitter part of me hopes that you'll hurt, that your heart will shrivel within your chest, that you'll ache so fucking badly. Part of me hopes that one day, that bitch with the red lipstick finds a new boy toy and you'll realize that you were just another fuck to occupy her time. Part of me hopes that one day you'll realize how good we were together, and how stupid you were to let me go, to stand there in the doorway and watch me walk out of your life without a struggle. As though our time together meant nothing. But I say nothing because it's not worth the effort anymore.
You're not worth the effort anymore.
I walk outside into the night and put my bags in the trunk of my car. You follow me, silent, and stand there, hands in the front pockets of your jeans, and I can see you chewing on the inside of your cheek. You look so vulnerable, more boy than man in that moment, and I cannot help myself. I walk up to you and you look at me, so surprised at my unexpected movement. For a long moment, our eyes meet, and for a long moment, I allow every stored emotion to show because I want you to see it. The endless pain. The constant torment. And those images in my mind. You and her. Together. Naked.
Slowly, I raise my hand and you press your cheek against my palm. There is stubble on your face and maybe once I would have giggled at the feel of it before you would pull me close and kiss me. Once, we had been so playful like that. My thumbs rub the sharp angles of your cheek softly and you sigh, and I can hear how shaky it is.
Good. I want it to hurt. I want it to hurt so fucking badly.
One more caress and then I give in to my primitive urge. You hurt, but I want more. I want to see you suffer. So I slap you, hard. So hard your entire body moves from the impact. So hard I can already see the imprint of my palm on a face that I once found beautiful.
You disgust me.
"I'm done" I whisper before getting into my car, before driving away, and in the mirror, I can see you standing there, cupping your cheek with your palm. I can see you fall to your knees in the wet grass, your shoulders hunched, your head down in defeat and for the first time, I smile.
I'm not yours anymore.