Pump more through my veins

[Deleted]

I hate you for the sacrifices you made for me
I hate you for every time you ever bled for me
I hate you for the way you smile when you look at me
I hate you for never taking control of me

I hate you for always saving me from myself
I hate you for always choosing me and not someone else
I hate you for always pulling me back from the edge
I hate you for every kind word you ever said

I hear the click of the door before I put the sound and his arrival together. My hands shake as I sit, staring ahead of me, watching the nothingness rather than acknowledging his presence. My feet rest upon my bag, packed and ready to go. He moves to walk past me, but I feel his eyes on me, I know he can’t ignore me forever…

His hand swoops down and he yanks the bag from beneath me, my feet hit the floor with a hard thump as I wasn’t expecting this action. He throws it down onto the table between us and the table itself wobbles as it is heavy with more than I will need for at least a month, he points to it, rounding on me.

“What the hell is this?!” his hand shakes like mine as he questions me

“What does it look like?” My voice is cold and I don’t bother to look up at him.

“It LOOKS like you’re about ready to run off and play happy families… Guess I misread his presence last week after all…” What starts as an angry tone trails off into a pained, quiet voice.

I can’t help it, I glance up at him and the pain, the hurt that burns through his eyes is palpable… I sigh, my resolve fails and I stand up, I stand right there, in front of him and tilt my head back to ensure I am looking him straight in the eye.

“You think… I am going-“ he cuts me off, his resolve stronger than mine.

“To be with that asshole… Have a nice life Ana…” his voice trails off as he turns away.

I reach out and grab his arm, turning him around, whirling him to face me and throw my hands up in exasperation; the noise he makes is almost a growl as he leans over me, a scowl on his face.

“And where were you huh?! You aren’t the only one who gets to judge… You don’t talk to me the entire trip and –“I pause to take a breath, my anger getting the better of me “Then, you come back and BOOM! You’re gone, without a word, gone for hours… I don’t know where you are, who you’re with and you expect what Alex?! For me to sit at home like the good housewife and WAIT for you?!”

I am panting now, anger courses through my veins and it boils, the demons laugh, they stir and they pump it faster, they can taste it, the blood in the water… This isn’t like any fight we have ever have before and they scream in my ears, do it they say, go for the kill…

“I never asked you to be here waiting for me!” his anger beats mine to it “Night after Night, you Chose to be the sad girl sitting at home waiting and then you play wounded when I bring a girl home… I offered you EVERYTHING Ana, I may not have much, but all I have I offered to you and you spat in my face!”

Tears stream hot and heavy down my cheeks, they burn like acid on my skin, boiling tears fueled by anger and regret. I clench my hands into fists and bury my nails into the soft, smooth skin of my palm to try and regain control. He hates you, they say. He despises you. You are nothing to him… You are trash…

“What is it you want from me Ana?! I have given you all I have… you’ve taken it and you just threw it away… Made me hollow, hurting… All those women, they mean NOTHING, just a Band-Aid, useless across the axe-wound YOU left in my chest!” Tears spring to his eyes, but he is stronger than me, they don’t fall.

Don’t... Says the Angel, she whispers in my ear soft and light, her voice pleading with me. Don’t hurt him any more… Unforgivable… They laugh, they shove her down and step on her, go on, they say – Do it, show him what real pain is… Feed him to us, you’re hungry... We can feel it…

“I don’t want anything from you.” My lip curls in a sneer as my words slap him cold like ice “You think that I spat on you… That what I did, everything I have done… Was a slap in your face?!”

A rush of pain and anger, I cannot decide what will win, I don’t know, it’s too much – do I give in, do I feed him to them like they scream for… Or do I listen to her, squashed and quiet but ever-present in my mind? So much noise… Why can’t it all be quiet...? I need to think… I need a moment… Just SHUT UP!

“I did everything FOR you… You don’t know what I am… What I am capable of. You think you see, what and who I am, you think you understand?! You DON’T! I turned away from you because I – I…”

“Because you what?” his voice is soft… Pleading, like his eyes….

Say it – Say it Ana, whispers the angel. Look at him, his eyes, his touch…. His smell, can you be without it forever? She asks. Can you turn away now...? When it is so close… Will you damn your hero to an eternity of heartbreak?

Yes, they whisper, slithering like serpents through my brain… Yes, you can and you will. Yes Ana, look at him, weak and desperate… He is nothing… Let us take him…

“Because you what, Ana?” he asks again and I realize I have been quiet for a long time.

I got to push past him, dipping my head low and shaking it I try to move past, I can’t breathe, I can’t think… I need air, I need time, and I need space… But they do not give me space, they scream at me, their blood curdling voices pound in my ears and the tears fall faster than ever.

And then, there is silence, there is just him, his touch, his lips… the taste, so soft and sweet. So pure, I cannot pull away, there is not a sound, not a voice. My hands move and touch his neck, his hair as his lips press tighter against mine and I pull towards him.

There she says, there now… Isn’t that a pretty picture?

Ok ‘ICE’ we get it, you’re a comedian... ….. ….. Huh, guess you’re not so funny after all, must be the lack of originality when it comes to ripping off bad 80’s sitcoms better left to mid-afternoon repeats for alcoholics and housewives – or am I missing the point and that is in fact your target audience?

You’ll have to excuse me lack of humor in this situation, but to be blatantly honest with you Beckman, I don’t want to be here, I don’t want to be facing some hack-actor who is so lost from his own sense of self his entirety is playing parts written by other people and poorly imitated by you. I don’t want to be the one who has to bring you crashing back down to reality… But somebody has to. Life isn’t beers and sitcoms and coasting… It’s not about “the lols” and just doing what makes you happy and, at least once in your career, someone has to come along and teach you that.

However – it occurs to me, that we have a common enemy you and me… We both have contempt for the same secular; I want to say human being but… Scott Savage is the most in-human thing I have ever come across in the flesh… So we will go with Douche bag. In a different life ICE, I would probably like you, hell I’d probably even respect you for what “Great heights” you have achieved here in WCF… As it stands, you’re about as primped up as an over-bloated show pig could be.

Everyone is feeding you ego and tidbits of excellence, convincing you that you are the best just because they deem it so, that in some way a shiny piece of tat strapped around your waist elevates you to a level above others… That we, the common masses, are expected to scramble for...

Here’s a wakeup call. I don’t give a fuck.

About the title. About being liked. About any damn thing except for getting exactly what I came here to do – and you can beat me – (Or in Terry’s case, get pinned in a group match and then tie me and somehow claim victory in the aftermath) But you cannot stop me. My reasoning for being here, my goal, is far bigger than some circumstantial proof of greatness.

I just want to see him hurt.

If you have to hurt, if Terry has to hurt… If every single person on the roster including the illustrious People’s Champion you are so very fond of, has to hurt, in order for me to wrap MY hands around HIS throat, for there to come a time when I take back what he took from me… the power, the sense of security… His very sense of Self! Then so be it… You will hurt.

For a moment, a second, I took my eye off the ball – I focused on the inconsequential, the victory. This is the long game, it’s not about winning matches, it’s not about whom people see as a champion or a victor, that 1, 2, 3 – sure it’s nice and the lights are pretty when they reign down upon you but what really matters… What I really want… All that I thirst and Hunger for… Is vengeance.

I am sure, you will call me unoriginal, uninspiring in-fact... the monster ‘bit’ you will call it. Well, Beckman, this is not a bit and I am not a monster, the hateful serpents that curl within me, the things that circle and squeeze my humanity until it bursts, they are not a bit, they are not for show… Unlike you, the reality of my choices, the reality of what I have done, my acceptance of what I am, comes at a price.

A burden.

But with all darkness, there is light… and she, the Angel, which whispers to me in my darkest moments, she will be all that saves you… Keep your little title; keep your humor and your piss-poor attempt at being different... I know where you live and there is darkness in you…

Will you be brave, will you step up and release what you keep coiled inside, and will you allow your own darkness to overcome you to defeat mine... Or will it all be another joke, another fallacy… Another lie?

Silence…. Someone once said that silence is a deafening sound, but I think them quite incorrect. Silence, in fact, is bliss for the mind and the soul. Silence, my friend, my long-lost lover… Rests with me now that he is here. Who would have thought, in all the worlds, that there would be one who could make them so very quiet…?

I hear nothing now, no scratching at my brain, no clambering, climbing, desperation to get free. No screams fill my ears; hate and darkness elude me now, in this moment. There is just the quiet and softness of him, his touch, his skin. His breath, like a breeze, blowing the things that pinch and prod my skin, clean from me.

And it is so quiet here, as though he takes over my very mind and there is no battle, no lost… Nothing to feed, nothing to want – not even she, the dear Angel, can touch me now. And I know, in all of a most certain way, that it is silence, it is him.

“Shhh...” his fingers touch my lips, silencing me... and them.

His touch, awakens me as his hand touches my arm, not the grab of anger, not the path of a friend, but the soft dance of fingertips on skin that is meant to allure and inspire the nerves to dance towards the surface, the hairs on my arms stand on end and my eyes flutter open, to look into the depth of the ocean within his.

“But I –“ I scramble for the words, Sorry seems to useless now.

“It doesn’t matter…” his hand trails across my cheek, the tip of his thumb stroking my jaw as he cups my face, his eyes glistening… When did it get dark?

I close my eyes for a second; unsure if what I believe is true… And it is, there is silence, nothing… I open my eyes again and move to speak, but he shakes his head, his lips find mine and again I am immersed, lost in a world not my own. My very senses tingle with the delight of a new world, his world… everything to simple, so pure…

“Alex” the word is a gasp, an uttered nothing… My words have died on my lips with his kiss.

“Please don’t say it –“ he whispers this to me, between kisses on our parted lips.

Don’t say what, I have to wonder to myself.. Too scared to ask aloud, for the possibilities are endless, don’t tell him to stop – to carry on – don’t tell him everything – or nothing…

“Don’t say that you’re sorry” his own words are a gasp now, uttered against my skin as his cheek presses to mine and he whispers this to my ears.

The beauty of my own thoughts swirl through my brain and for a moment, a glimmer of hope sparks within me… I do not feel the coil of the serpent in my chest as his hand encloses mine… I do not feel the suffocating grasp of the Devil on my heart as his lips cross my jaw with kisses that touch as soft at butterfly wings… I do not see the nightmares of what’s to come when I close my eyes, instead I see only colours, red and pink and white... hot white… that consumes all.

But the consumption is welcome, as is his hand, which curls around my hip to touch the small of my back, arching me to him so he may embrace me with another kiss, long and longing – nothing rises from within me, no scratching and biting, no hunger… I wish not to devour him; I wish only to feel him.

My hands, growing brace, cross the bare skin of his arms, one clings there, as though to keep me in touch with the reality as I slip, I fall deeper into the quiet abyss that is him and us and want and lust and lo – no, I won’t, I can’t… But I do not say that I am sorry… Instead I open my eyes to find the depths of pools, bright and blue pouring into mine and with bitten lip I say.

“I’m not.”

Terry Roberts has taken to calling me a failure, his favourite line is now “Ana didn’t make me scream like she said she would” he is inviting it… Begging for it… And all that proves Terry, is that I am in your head. You have been running around screaming at anyone will listen about how I failed. How you were victorious…

What a beautifully selective memory you have – you lost that first match, I was merely wayside… It was not I who lay on my back to be pinned – you can call it being beaten by a ‘real woman’ but the point remains the same… You didn’t win, you didn’t beat me… You were the footnote, the joke… The Ultimate Loser.

And last week, I told you Terry, I don’t want to hurt you… You may awaken the serpents and they may snap and hiss and beg to feast upon your flesh… But there is no real desire to hurt you, simply to satiate them – and last week, we drew… It was nothing… No great victory, yet you purport it as such.

This is how we differ my childish, insecure little bug… You see last week as bragging rights, something to be proud of, you tell everyone Ana didn’t beat me!! As though you expected me to, as though you know you are my lesser… You know that should I choose it, you will come undone.

Me? I am shamed by last week, shamed by my drop in focus, me need to prove my hunger outweighing my true reason to be here – I hang my head and I shake it, not wanting to scream that Terry didn’t beat me! Because you won’t, you haven’t… And your only saving grace is I did not beat you either?

Is that the foundation you wish to build as a wrestler you sniveling little worm? Your big talk is that you didn’t lose… You claim I am nothing to fear yet you seem so proud to have TIED me. You tell me that I need to “Watch some Horror movies” Why? So I can be like you… Like ICE? Incapable of a secular thought, incapable of simply being myself, thriving on a desperate need and pitiful attempt at ripping off someone else?

You are a poor man’s something… I am not a man’s anything – You talk of possession and owning, telling Alex to ‘keep me in check’ as though I am an animal, something to be kept on a leash he can tug when I get too close… Well, Terry, you’re right about one thing… What resides within me is animalistic, it is hungry and its teeth will pierce your skin, rip flesh from bone, should I so desire to let it.

What is this week about for you Terry? Another chance to say you didn’t lose to the “Monster” you claim not to fear? A chance for you to garner yourself with glittering metals and call yourself a Champion, for a few weeks, til someone bigger and hungrier comes along and rips it from you? Or just another opportunity to show the world your failures, your complete lack of any substance…

That demon that squirms within is not a gimmick Terry; he is not a joke, not a game. Dance with the devil and you will find yourself burned, will this week be your Tango De Los Muertes? Bailar con el diablo en las fosas de fuego Del infierno.... bailar conmigo….

I dare you.

The touch of crisp cotton brushing against bare skin is indescribable at best, the feel of slick, wet bodies, bound together in the throws of passion as sweat beads and curls down the spine, across the flesh, pooling and dripping as though it were the very water itself keeping rhythm… A strange thing to focus on and yet so all consuming.

The taste, of skin on lips and tongue.. The kiss so fragrant and so soft, can turn hard and passionate and it does, as his lips press to my shoulder, that bone, the collar bone, receives light nips and touches as his hands trail down the smoothness of my legs…

I let it take me and consume me and for the longest moment I am lost in it, the touch of his hands on me, the feel of him there, atop and within me… It is as though time slows and almost stops as I release and allow it to flow… There are no voices to jest or question, just him.. His breath.

The feel of his breath on my skin, the whisper of his words on my ear, I turn my face with a smile to catch those teasing lips and my hands draw up my back, the nerves in my fingertips grow wild at the feel of him beneath my hands… Every sensation heightened, every feeling so strong…

My back arches as I bring him to me and my own lips part, and sigh, and gasp as we surrender to its throws –

“Ana…” his name on my lips, against my shoulder, vibrates and tingles.

I giggle, unable to suppress the urge and releases the awkwardness carried in that same shoulder, relaxed into him, his body pressed so close to mine that the sweat, those tiny trickling beads, tickle my very nerves… His body moves with mine and it is wholly peaceful..

Wholly Carnal and yet somehow so pure, my nails draw down and he gasps, he arches himself and pulls back to find my lip with his teeth, my tongue with his tongue – the taste is not sweet, this is not heavenly as my mind would suspect, it is hot and heavy and every single base desire of the very human soul pressed into a moments pleasure as my body tenses…

Release – purity – ecstasy – Silence.

I love you for everything you ever took from me
I love the way you dominate and you violate me
I love you for every time you gave up on me
I love you for the way you look when you lie to me
I love you for never believing in what I say
I love you for never once giving me my way
I love you for never delivering me from pain
I love you for always driving me insane