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lct50 · 2 years ago

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A Reflection

In which Samuel ponders his past relationship. 1220 words (go me)

You’re brushing your teeth. It’s 2am. You’ve been drinking, and honestly wouldn’t have, had you not thrown up just a moment prior. It was hasty, a wobbly motion, an awkward scramble to the sink from where you had keeled over before. During the process, you catch a glimpse of your teeth in the mirror. You never look at your reflection anymore, but you do this time. You look at your teeth.

When you begin to recollect, begin to reflect upon it, It was a typical day when it all really started. You think that day was when you began to see a problem in it all. There were signs before, of course, but you were complicit in them, you knew that. But this time it was different. It really shined the light in your eyes.

You were laid on the couch, head tilted up on the backrest. You remember your eyes were shut, in relaxation, just barely drifting off into a mid-afternoon nap. It was so quiet that day.

The door squeaks open and slams shut in the same instance. You didn’t move.

Your lover, who was out running some errands formerly, had returned home. He did not announce his arrival this time. Honestly, he’d been doing it less and less. You thought he was starting to enjoy startling you. It didn’t work too well on you. For you were a placid man once, peaceful.

You could sense him approaching you and you smiled, though your eyes remained closed. Still, he had made no effort to address you.

“Hey there.” He eventually said in a nonchalant tone. “How’s your day been? I learned something interesting today. Do you mind if I show you?”

What he had asked you was so innocent in nature. You hadn’t suspected a thing of malice within his tone. You did open your eyes a little, though. You could see that he was holding some kind of tool in his hand but, you thought nothing of it.

“It’s a little weird.” You heard him say, kind of laughing at himself as he leaned over you. You welcomed the weight of him. You had assured him then, though, that you were willing to indulge him in his odd urges.

He told you to open your mouth, so you did, head tilted back and eyes closed still in your temperate compliance.

You couldn’t really see what he was doing there, then. You could feel that he had his gloves on. Not that you cared, at the time. You really wish you had.

It all happened so fast,

The pressure began to increase, from a wildly uncomfortable grip, and then -

For a moment, everything in your vision had gone white. Shock and adrenaline shot through you just as quickly as the pain, your mouth pouring full with warm blood at an instant. It leaked out through the ends of your lips. The searing sensation radiated down through your jaw and into your neck. It’s sharp and white hot. Everything tasted like metal.

When it happened, when you realised what happened, you didn’t even scream. Just a muffled, choked cry.

Fortunately, despite your own placidity, you had been at least sane enough to react. Even through the shock, you quickly shoved him off. Shouting at him, calling him names as you spit up the blood that was rapidly filling your mouth.

“What is the matter with you!” You had screamed as you bolted to the sink to spit the rest of it up. You were trembling.

“Why would you do that?!”

You remember running the sink, dipping your head to get a full mouth of water, endlessly spitting as the bleeding refuses to stop. You seethed with rage about as long as the adrenaline fueled it, hovering over the splashing water. The white porcelain was becoming stained with smeared pink. You could only think why, what brought that on, with no warning.

It was sadistic. It was cold. Colder than he usually was.

All the while, he was laughing at you, standing in the frame of the door with that sweet pitchy laugh that he always did. Like it was such an innocent prank. Like nothing even happened.

“Oh my God,” He howled in amusement. “You should’ve seen your face!”

When you whipped back around to look at him, you only felt more angry. You had asked, demanded, as to why he did that, though, you knew you could already feel your own brain making excuses.

“Relax, relax.” He had began, haphazardly swinging around the pair of handy-work pliers, holding your perfectly good tooth in between the jaws.

“It’s in your best interest, love. I had never liked the way that crooked old tooth sat in your mouth. I was thinking just how cute you’d be with a gap there, instead.” He spoke in that tone he did whenever he was gently teasing you. Again. Like it hardly mattered at all. Your anger was already being smothered, ever so gradually, wearing it down like friction does an old rope.

“And my, do you ever!”

All the thoughts that were rushing through your head, at the time, were so muddled and confused. It was the first time you ever really questioned the way he treated you. In your silence, he decided to stop watching you suffer from afar, and footsteps moved closer to you. You weren’t looking. The pain had ebbed into a dull, but intense throb.

The adrenaline had begun to leave your body then, along with the better of your judgement, returning you again to that same complacency. In place of the energy came weakness, numbing the tips of your fingers and weakening your knees. You felt faint, then, and gripped the porcelain with your fingers as your body lurched forward, legs giving out. You didn’t want to fall.

He had came up behind you, and mussed up your hair, playfully. Though, in your moment of weakness, you couldn’t help but lean into it, like he was comforting you. That was all you wanted.

“You’re a good sport, you know.” He hummed to you, still carding through your hair. You were still bleeding. It was leaking down your face. Gently, he wipes the blood from your chin with his thumb. You remember how it soothed you so. “I don’t know how you put up with it.”

It was short lived, though. Like everything good with him was. He turned to leave. Halfway out the door, he paused, and leaned his head back all the way.

“May I fetch you an Advil?”

You mumble an affirmative reply.

You prayed he was a liar, then. It was the strongest part of the memory. Like so many other times, you prayed that he was lying, and that he’d bring you something stronger instead.

You spit your toothpaste out into the sink. The foam is pink from the blood in your gums.

You gag.

You go to bed on the couch, without a blanket, huddling into your own warmth. In the depths of your thoughts, you couldn’t help but think it -

He was right. You look far better with a gap in your teeth, now.

When you close your eyes, you shiver, and react to yourself in disgust. All these years, and you’re still awash with the same placidity,

Those same asinine justifications.

#written #samuel #simon

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