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Ava, Chapter 31: Isabel
Reply to AlsikePosted to Fanfiction.net June 27, 2004
Maria is in my arms again tonight. What sweet torture is this? Her misery is my pleasure, my pleasure her pain. But how different is it than it has always been? When have I not gotten pleasure from making her angry? When has fighting not been our most pleasant means of communication? And when have I not been happy when Michael has ripped her self-esteem to shreds?
Now we don't fight, and I'm miserable. Now I hold her and she cries and I hate myself for being so weak. But all I want is for her to be happyÉ happy? Where did that come from? When has my desire ever been to make her happy? That's not all I want. I want, I want, I want one time, when she comes to me with tears ready to fall, is to press her down on the bed and make love to her. I want to wipe all thoughts of Michael from her mind. I want to own her thoughts; I want to be the only thing she thinks about. I want her to think of me every time something brushes against her breast.
I'm a freak, like always, I'm creepy and horrible, and I hate myself for wanting it, but no matter how much I do I'm not going to give in. I'm going to hold her, and whisper soft nothings in her ear and I'm going to murder Michael if I ever have the chance.
I want to own her, body, mind, and soul. I want her to surrender herself to me in ways she would never do for anyone else. But she doesn't want me and so I'll just be in my room, there if she needs me, if she needs a shoulder to cry on. I'll be there for her needs, even if she never notices or cares about mind.
Sometimes I wonder why I'm here. Why it was so easy to slip off my ring and leave Jesse and my parents. I always knew I would never have a normal life, but I thought that was what I wanted. But it is what I want. I want my mom to hold me and tell me everything's all right. Why should I have to be the holder when I need to be held just as much? Her back is shivering under my fingers; I stroke her hair. Is this comfort for me? Is being strong for her making me strong enough for me?
I slip fingers under her chin, against the smooth skin of her neck, and lift her head. Her eyes are swollen from tears and she tries to dart away from my gaze. If her lips were swollen from kisses.
"Do you want to tell me what's wrong? Or will you just disturb my sleep every night?"
"If you want me to go..." The roughness of tears has softened the sharpness of her tones.
"I have a head as well as a shoulder. I might be more helpful than just any handkerchief."
A little smile touches her lips. That smile sends shudders through my stomach. People call them butterflies, but butterflies are not usually the bearers of terror. I'm afraid of losing control. I always have perfect control, but her lips send my lust level soaring. And if I lose control just once, I'm done for.
"You're better than a handkerchief, you're warm and soft."
"Am I a stand in for your mother?"
"Again, you're better than my mother, you're warm and soft." She wipes her eyes and gives me another terrifying smile. God, I want those lips. She slips her arms around me. When did I become this person? When did I become someone she was comfortable with? When did I become closer to her than Liz? She used to be afraid of me, she used to hate me, and now every night she crawls into my bed and lets her world fall apart, knowing I'll catch it in my arms like I catch her.
"Can't you tell me why you cry?"
"What would you do if I came here and I wasn't crying?" She murmurs into my shoulder, "What would you think I wanted? Would you let me in?"
"So you're just crying to get into my bed?" I'm pushing it; I've got to be careful.
"I," she wouldn't look at me, "I just want someone to be there, isn't that enough?"
Yes, that's enough. If I push to hard I wont get this bittersweet joy, she won't come to me, and I won't even get this. Why should I want more than this? Maria DeLuca is in my arms and for the first time she's not crying.
Continue to Chapter 32
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