Just because I delight in breaking you... (astro ode story)

He wraps his arms around me and inhales my scent greedily, like I am fresh meat for him to consume. I try to push him away but it’s like trying to push a stalled bulldozer off the street with my bare hands.

“I don’t want you here,” I tell him bitterly. “Things are always fine until you show up.”

He pulls his black lips back to reveal his fanged smile. “Oh, but my dear you must. No one on earth makes it out without my love.”

“Love,” I scoff, “you don’t know the meaning of the word.”

“Just because I delight in breaking you doesn’t mean I don’t love you,” he whispers in my ear, so softly that I almost can’t hear him. “I break you because I love you.”

With those words I feel a blinding pain in my back as he stabs his dagger between my shoulder blades and pulls down swiftly.

“Not again,” I think, but can’t mutter the words the pain is so great.

“Shed, my love” he says to me. “Do it for me one more time.”

I begrudgedly lean against him for support as my back splits open and my skin slips forward, sliding off the bone like a too big dress. It lands with a “thwap” as I catch my breath and step backwards, away from him. I’m bloodied from head to toe with blood matted in my hair, covered in red like a newborn.

“There, now was that so bad?” he asks through his smile.

I grit my teeth and glare at him. I want to punch him but there’s no point. I would only break my wrist. Instead, I try to burn a hole in his face with my eyes to no avail.

“Come, let’s get you cleaned up.”

He offers me his hand and I accept. This isn’t the first time he’s done this, and I know what awaits me. I want to see what this new me looks like.

The walk down the corridor takes too long, but when we finally reach the mirror, I like what I see. My recent death did me a lot of good. Stale, swollen bits of stagnation, a handful of conditioned beliefs and behaviors, and old victim stories had come off with the exfoliated skin. I turned, admiring this new reflection of mine and noticed that the people pleasing tint I once had on my skin had faded significantly.

Yes, this new me would do. Until he decided to come back and murder her, too.

An ode to Pluto

© Theresa Blackwood, 2021. No part of this site, www.theresablackwood.com, may be reproduced in whole or in part in any manner without the permission of the copyright owner.