One day, we will face each other and twist knives into each other’s backs just to survive. Everything is a competition. Hunger games that dressed us up as hope.
And me? I am a small ant speeding toward someone I trusted with my life. Racing to a paper house he built for me, to a future he wrote together with his lies. I go faster because there is nothing behind me. Nothing to pull me back. I go faster, knowing I have no idea what his next chapter holds, because I fell for the version of him I built inside my own head.
Don’t we all do that? We paint people into perfect pictures, smooth the cracks, until one day it collapses around us and melts in our hands. That’s what our minds do. They turn into chaos. And we turn into the ruin that lives inside it.
I turn the bike back on. I feel it vibrating underneath me.
I ride to see him. Because I would rather live in a paper house and be a small ant beside him than be anything else without him.
We are all the same. We just stare at different pictures.
TWENTY-ONE
CHAOS
Ihear the bike outside, then slow, heavy footsteps on the porch. I stand and move into the hallway. When the door opens, she stands in front of me, soaked in blood. She slams it shut and lets the helmet fall from her hands. It hits the floor and rolls to the wall.
I rush to her, hands scanning her arms, her sides, her back. She stands frozen, eyes locked somewhere behind me. I look at her face, searching for a wound that isn’t there. Blood is not hers.
What happened?I sign.
She only shakes her head. Her eyes lift to mine, but her gaze is empty, like something inside her broke and never came back.
I slide my hands down to her thighs and guide her forward, pressing her against me as I carry her toward the bathroom. I lean her over the shower edge and turn the water on. Cold water hits both of us, soaking her clothes, streaking the blood down her skin, and into the drain.
She gasps and blinks, like she is waking from a nightmare.
Her eyes find mine.
“I…” Her voice cracks. “I…”
It’s okay.I sign.It’s okay.
My hand glides along her leg, down her thigh. I lift her knee and lock her against my hips, holding her there as the water runs over us.
“You… c-c-came,” I whisper into her ear, my lips brushing her neck. The last of the blood washes from her clothes and spills across the tiles.
“Yes,” she breathes, her palm sliding over my chest, searching for my heart that has forgotten how to beat.
I look down at her and catch her face in my hands, pulling her close until her lips part against mine. I kiss her, my tongue finding hers as her breath stutters between us.
“Fuck me to forget everything we ever did,” she whispers. “Fuck me so hard that what’s left of us hurts less.”
I nod.
My fingers hook into the edge of her shirt and pull it up over her head, tossing it aside. I didn’t ask anything. Whatever happened doesn’t matter. All that exists is this moment and the two of us standing under falling water.
Her hands drop to her jeans, undoing the buttons. When the last one gives, I help her slide them down, tugging them from her legs. She lifts her foot, and her hand trails along my arm, squeezing every muscle.
She is gentle, like every ounce of power has been drained from her, like what is left is barely holding on. When her jeans slip down her hips, I glide my fingers from her ankles all the way up to her thighs, leaving a trail of goosebumps on her skin. I lift her leg and lock it against my hip.
I spin her around and lean her against the shower glass, turning the water to warm. Her wet hair is plastered to her face and the glass, her palms braced against it, her fingers twisting as they might snap at any second.
I spread her legs with my knee and tug down my soaked sweatpants, my cock already pulsing hard in my hand. Her body glows in the dim bathroom light, every drop of water sliding down her spine, slipping between her legs. She arches her back, gasping as the stream runs over her face.
I grab her ass, pulling her cheeks apart, making her twitch. I step closer, my cock tapping against her throbbing pussy. I lean in, then pull back, teasing her, dragging myself across her sensitive flesh. I release my grip and guide myself, pressing forward until she takes just the tip. Her tight walls clench around me, and it takes a few slow thrusts before I sink all the way in, her ass meeting my skin with a sharp, wet sound.
There is something in that single gasp when she takes me fully, something that snaps in my chest. After that, it turns into a fight, my pace building as I drive into her, harder, deeper.
