#mi escrito

[myagami-2417]

Hola, ha pasado un tiempo...

Cómo ya es costumbre, no sé por dónde empezar, así que escribiré lo primero que se me venga a la mente.

Han sucedido tantas cosas que es muy difícil mantener un seguimiento o cronología de ellas.

Perdimos a la persona con la que jurábamos pasaríamos el resto de nuestras vidas porqué sentíamos que era la indicada; pesé a qué claramente nuestra intuición nos gritaba lo contrario. ¿Por qué no le hicimos caso? ¿fue por el orgullo de no querer estar equivocados o el cansancio de sentirnos solos y con la necesidad de tener pareja la que no empujo a hacerlo?...

O... ¿Simplemente fue una decisión que tomamos sin pensar y qué esperamos tenga alguna justificación después de tantas emociones y tiempo desperdiciado en ello?

Puede que me encuentre mejor que antes, ya no lloro cada vez que voy a algún lugar y recuerdo nuestros momentos juntos, o disfrutando de la comida y qué me parezca tan deliciosa como para desear que pudieras probarla, o estar sentada enfrente de un gran paisaje con nostalgia por anhelar que estuvieras junto a mi contemplando lo.

Ahora, además de la nostalgia, me dejan una sonrisa todos los momentos que han pasado, ya sean buenos o malos. Estoy consciente de que debo de perdonarte para poder olvidar y dejarte ir, pero todavía me tomará algo de tiempo. Pesé a ello, empatizo contigo, y sé que los demonios que llevas dentro han causado en parte esto, así como también el hecho de que no te enseñaron a amar ni tampoco te nacía amarme como yo quería o lo hacía contigo, y está bien, eres así, y yo acepto la persona que eres, pero parecía ser que tu no aceptabas a la persona que yo era.

Sin percatarme, cambié mi forma de ser y renuncié temporalmente a mis metas y sueños por amarte tan intensamente para que nunca te preocuparás o hicieras el cuestionamiento de si yo te amaba. Pero es cansado dar todo de ti y qué no te den por lo menos un mínimo de gesto de agradecimiento correspondiendo mi amor por ti.

Teníamos un gran amor y no supimos que hacer con él, así que lo destruimos, y pese a ello, aun así, te llevas una parte de mi contigo.

Sigue adelante, y perdóname, por no haber podido entender a tu alma tan compleja, en verdad quería ayudarte, pero eso no dependía de mí, y al final terminó con ambos con el corazón roto.

Estoy segura de qué te irá bien a donde vayas, aún confío en esa versión trabajadora que me mostraste.

Suerte, y buen viaje.

[que-mas-daa]

Este esqueleto podrá no tener emociones, pero tiembla y siente cuando estás cerca...

[lobauuu]

Será eterna tu mirada en mis pupilas.

[annetorres-blog]

NO HABRÁ DICIEMBRE, NO HABRÁ PARÍS

Cuando pienso en ti mi cuerpo se vuelve gaseoso y siento cosquillas y ganas de reír: tu aliento en mi cuello. Entonces, solo besarte la boca, las manos, los ojos. Recuerdo el viento en la cara y tus palabras de aquella noche, todavía cercana. No me queda ninguna duda: te amo. Te amo con todo mi cuerpo que es lo único que puedo ofrecer de verdad. Te llevo pegado en los tobillos, en los brazos, en los dedos. Te llevo en las sienes, en las piernas, te llevo, sobre todo, en los labios o ensortijado en el pelo... Mientras siga sintiendo tus caricias sobre la piel no te habrás ido, por eso, las voy a guardar en esta especie de santuario del recuerdo. Ahí quedarán porque no habrá diciembre y no habrá París. O, al menos, para nosotros. Ambos lo sabemos. Así, evoco a cada rato tus dedos sobre mi cuerpo. Dormir acurrucada en tu pecho, esa es la única certeza que necesito para sentirme fuerte y hermosa. Recuperar la juventud y la valentía idiota. No obstante, David: no habrá diciembre y no habrá París. Y ambos lo sabemos. Es cierto, hemos derribado un muro y... ¡Qué felicidad! Qué alegría encontrarte en la mañana y besarte despacio... Pero no quiero. No quiero ser otra más entre la media docena de amantes que encuentras en Tinder. No quiero verlo. No quiero ver como te compras una esposa filipina. Siempre, mucho más dócil y solícita. Más bella, más joven, más todo. David, mi amor, no habrá diciembre y no habrá París. Y ambos lo sabemos. Y es mejor así. Yo no quería. No quería besarte. No quería dormir contigo. Nunca responderte de nuevo, pero, paradójicamente, siempre vuelvo. Y, esta vez, te quedarás para siempre. También, ambos lo sabemos. David, mi amor, no habrá diciembre y no habrá París, porque tú quieres perderte en la selva. Y, creo, que ni siquiera sabes lo que buscas en cuestión de mujeres... Por eso, mi vida, no habrá diciembre y no habrá París... Solo ese desayuno en la churrería, cuando tú me cogías la mano, me besabas despacio y parecía que me querías...

[bonnies-life]

¿De qué otra manera puedo hacerte entender que estás cambiando?

Ya lo he dicho directamente y de cada manera que se me ocurre, no entiendes.

¿De qué manera puedo hacerte entender cómo me siento?

Si no entiendes, ya no me entiendes.

[mi-universo-poetico]

De allí nació mi ansiedad del miedo, la ansiedad es la reacción del miedo, de una herida que no se ha sanado.

- chica invisible

[the-great-shit]

Parte de mi alma, de mi mundo, y de mi corazón se detuvieron cuando te fuiste.

[janul3]

Esta noche abre paso a dos cascadas sobre mi rostro y en mi alma unas heridas que dejan un tatuaje que lleva tu nombre.

Luna

[artposilipo]

[unvallefeliz]

Les deseo una vida donde les quieran más que nadie, que les ponga como prioridad, y no les hagan cosas que sepan que les lastiman. Con todo mi corazón anhelo que el universo les bendiga con el amor y la felicidad que todos nos merecemos.

[fairytaehl]

In your atmosphere, in your scent that’s like flowers, I hope you can understand me like this always, for a long time

one of my favorite mileven fics ive written! its really a combo of three fics i planned on: the evolution of how comfortable they are with physical touch, a wrist kiss, and a rain kiss. it felt better to put it all in one, though maybe it could still use tweaking!

still, i love this to bits, i care sm about their relationship development and wanted to share my hopes for s5 kisses!!!

enjoy!

Summary: Physical touch was not always something that came easily to Mike Wheeler. He was stiff by nature and only settled for simple things like handshakes with his friends, tapping or nudging his older sister and the occasional required hug. Awkward was kind of his middle name.

But then El came along.

Physical touch was not always something that came easily to Mike Wheeler. He was stiff by nature and only settled for simple things like handshakes with his friends, tapping or nudging his older sister and the occasional required hug. Awkward was kind of his middle name.

But then El came along.

The impact of their two worlds colliding might as well be deemed the reason Uranus rotates on its side, a crash so strong it would forever change the trajectories of their lives.

His hugs earned more meaning, his touches more frequent and acts of undisguised care shamelessly given to those around him. Since spotting her in the forest by Mirkwood, his life had never been, and would never be, the same.

At first, it was obvious how much El had a distrust for anyone who reached out to her. The exact reasoning for why would be unknown for some time, but her flinches and closing herself off said enough to him. He was just curious when he saw her tattoo, it was impulsive and foolish and he was young, but he knew his boundaries then.

When she started to touch his arm, hold his hand, let him hug her, grasp him as she rode behind him on his bike and lean her head on him, he felt something he never had before. There was an overwhelming feeling of humble pride to be someone she trusted enough to be so physically close to, something that tugged at his heartstrings and made his heart beat faster, so much so that he hoped she didn't hear it.

There wasn't a real word for it then (that he accepted, anyways), but when he looked back on those younger days where he was unbeknownst to what the future held, to the present where he stared at her sleeping face that was still blotchy from crying in the rain earlier, pressing a kiss to her temple, he knew it had been love.

His first kiss with her was on a whim, something to get his feelings across without actually saying it. Sometimes it felt stupid to have done it then, even though they almost had in his basement's bathroom that one time, but he didn't know what else to do besides admitting he had a crush on this girl he barely knew (thanks, Lucas.) He didn't know if El even knew of the word and its meaning. The feeling, sure, but something told him there wasn't any other way to make sure she was truly aware of his feelings, so he kissed her.

The year after her disappearance saw Mike in the darkest spot he had ever been in, and somehow no one understood or wanted to sympathize. How was he supposed to move on after seeing the only girl he had ever felt romantically connected to disappear right before his eyes? How was he supposed to forget her or just remember her as some superhero who came to save the day and left when her duty was seemingly done? Call it coping with grief or whatever, but he didn't ever even believe she was gone to begin with.

And because of her, he became more attentive, more quick to physically reach out. He was afraid of losing Will again, afraid of someone else being ripped out of his hands while he wasn't close enough to grab them.

So he stayed by his side, always putting a hand or arm on him to ensure he was there and he was real (not just some memory of a best friend he lost unexpectedly), to console and ground both Will and selfishly, himself.

When day 356 came along and he saw her for the first time again, the stress and anger all washed off of him in waves and he embraced El like he never had hugged anyone else before. El, the one who showed him the meaning of genuine touches. El, the one who he fell in love with at such a tender age.

Almost kissing outside Hopper's cabin, not even caring who saw, leading her to the dance floor at his school where they finally shared a mutual kiss in front of all the other kids and their friends (and even his sister!) were moments he defined as progress. Progress for them but progress for himself, too. He didn't know how to do this dating thing, even more so since it wasn't at all conventional, so it was a guessing game. But he quickly learned that he would make himself comfortable for whatever she wanted. Kisses, hugs, touches. Even if it was foreign for him, the knowledge that she was new to this, too, only made him feel more at ease.

She would attach herself to him like a koala, and he had no gripes about it. If anything, he was overjoyed at being able to take on the role of some exquisite, totally capable, protective boyfriend as if she wasn't the one with a death toll to her name and wanted by the government.

Both hands always touching him wherever she could; his wrists, his arms, his shoulders, neck, cheeks, running through his strands of hair or lacing their fingers together, they made sure to find their place anywhere. Maybe he could admit that it comforted him to know how much she not only wanted to be with him but that maybe she was afraid to let go of him again, too.

Even when they were welcoming Dustin back from summer camp, they had to be hand in hand for the greeting, lest one of them disappears from their sight or, like it wasn't obvious already, people were unaware they were devoted to each other.

Having such casual displays of physical affection, especially amongst their friends, was rather easy for them. She could wrap her hands around his crossed arms, big doe eyes focused on what was going on but her dumpling cheek smooshed against his shoulder while she leaned as far into him as she could, and no one would ever question it. They might tease them separately, sure, but they all unspokenly knew how much it meant for them to be able to simply touch one another at all.

El never had to ask or say it; Mike would grab her hands with his and never let go, and she could hold onto him with both hands or with one, she could wrap an arm around him with a single hand while squeezing a hand tightly with her other, and she could rely on him to be there to bring her back to reality, to touch his face and to feel the strength in his grasp around her.

A lot of their kisses were mouth to mouth, but there were moments when Mike would try to do something different to make her smile extra wide, to impress her with his suave ways, to do something a little more than their typical, constant touches.

Head kisses became one that Mike did as he got taller. It wasn't one that he did too often being that sometimes they'd feel awkward, but when El was in her lowest of states, those always felt most appropriate.

If she was crying, shutting herself down, not making eye contact, he would place a soft kiss to her head to try and relieve some of the stress building up within her. She'd bring her arms around him and he would do it again until he started to pepper kisses all over her face, dotting her tears on it to stop them in their track of rolling down her cheeks.

It was one that made his heart ache to do, but he wanted to express his care for her in a way that wasn't too much, but that would be exclusive to their romantic touches. If it offered her consolation, if he got his intent across, he would feel relief that his measly, if not small, gestures could do something so comforting.

Temple kisses also were not ones he usually did, but sometimes the urge to show affection while not being too disgusting in public warranted these. Prior to the current, it had been done during the times they visited each other; the first time while they were walking down the street in Hawkins and another as they exited the airport, but another now after the one he just gave while she remained unbothered in her sleep.

Forehead kisses were more gentle, more personal, and it helped that they had the perfect height difference for them. They were the type of kiss he would give her to calm her nerves and smooth out the wrinkles forming on her forehead from worry or anger. Like when she had expressed frustration during their Thanksgiving meeting about Hopper not saying what was in his letter, visibly on the verge of tears, but he knew she would feel guilty for making their time together sad. Or like when she got mad at her Christmas visit after presenting her the promise ring, having cried from happiness but scolding herself for not even thinking to bring him anything like that in return.

Cheek kisses made him feel mushy from the cheesiness, but they were an easy sign of affection that made his girlfriend blush and smile with gee, and he would do whatever if it meant he got to see her smile.

So he'd kiss her cheek while they watched movies and he'd kiss her cheek some nights before leaving and he'd kiss her cheek as they held hands and took walks around their small, quaint town, and he'd kiss her cheek during their visits while out and about to let everyone know she was his and he was hers. Sometimes she would give him ones right back, and it was hard to ignore the way it'd give him goosebumps while simultaneously heating his body up, all thoughts stopping short as he'd goofily grin at her.

Nose kisses admittedly were one of his favorites with how he was able to make El's face scrunch up with happiness, then desperately standing up on her tip-toes to try and do the same. And what was the fun in just letting her have that? It was a perfect way to tease her, make her pout and then kiss her frown away, earning a smile from her again. Of course, he'd eventually give in and let her give his nose a peck, too, even if it felt awkward for him, he did always like it.

Bunny kisses were something he heard about from his mother, though she originally said it could be termed as an "Eskimo kiss." He preferred the former more, the name making it sound gentle and cute, a good comparison to El and her nature and their affection.

He decided to try it once while sitting in what was once Will's room on the bed during the hot summer after she had lost her powers. Their legs were crossed as they faced each other, and Mike was trying to teach her how to solve a Rubik's cube. Unprompted, and Mike completely unaware, El rested her forehead against him, stopping him in the middle of his sentence so he could look up at her. After a beat of staring, they smiled and kissed, and when they pulled away, Mike rubbed their noses against one another.

"What are you doing?" She had asked.

Mike shrugged. "Bunny kiss," he mumbled, giving her lips another peck. "Mom told me about it."

Her following giggle was music to his ears, and when she initiated the bunny kiss that next time he grinned from ear to ear.

There were a few times during that summer when they did it again, sometimes just as they snuggled in her or his room, silently spending time together while they still could.

When they had to say their goodbyes, this one came from a spur of the moment. His emotions overwhelming him, having just heard her say she loves him too meaning that she heard him, aware that she was going now for who knows how long, that it would be months before they got to hug and kiss each other again, that when they pressed their foreheads to each other after a tight embrace, he subtly rubbed their noses together. It was more comfort for himself than for her, and a mouth kiss felt like too much then. He just needed to convey that he was already missing her more than he thought was humanly possible, even though she was right in front of him. All of his insecurities crept to the top, the unsure future his reason for hugging her like it would be their last.

A couple of times while they met during the holidays and the inevitable discussion of having to say goodbye at the airport soon resulted in their faces close, El rubbing her nose against his to cheer him up. It never failed to make him smile, and he'd always follow up with a nose kiss for her tenderness.

Butterfly kisses, for once, were something El brought up to him. He had never even heard the term before, but while he was in Lenora for Thanksgiving, she asked him if he had ever heard of the term. According to her (explained after he answered with a confused "No?"), they were a type of kiss where one fluttered their eyelashes against the other person's skin or eyes.

Without him having to even ask, she pulled him close and pressed her face against his cheek, right below his eyes, blinking slowly, and it made him shiver. It was delicate, and it made him feel a little embarrassed from what felt like such an intimate and deliberate type of kiss. But he leaned his head down and placed their eyes close together to repeat the gesture, smiling when she did and gently kissing her lips. Mike wasn't sure how practical this one was, but it didn't make him like it any less, especially if she wanted it.

Shoulder kisses were something that he didn't even know were a real thing (of course they were, but what the hell did he know at fourteen?), but El's shoulder was often a place he felt at home. He knew he could tuck his head in the crook of her neck and just breathe her in, allowing her typical coconut-vanilla or lemon lavender scent to calm his nerves.

Mike had never done it before, barely even considered it (the thought fleeted before he could even process it in the moment), but when he reunited with her in the desert, kneeling down to see that she was alive, she was okay and she was there, he couldn't help himself.

Upon their embrace, he breathed her in again, even if she didn't smell like one of her usual aromas. And before they pulled away, he gave her shoulder a subtle kiss. He didn't even know if El felt it or registered it properly, but it was enough for him to be able to press his lips against some part of her to try to communicate his love for her that he had been afraid to say out loud, but not for much longer.

Rain kisses were ones he knew happened in romance movies. In real life? Well, they just seemed tacky to him. The only reason his view changed on that was the way El would coo and gape at those scenes during the romance movies he watched for her. It would be so ridiculous, truly, but he knew she would love it, and he only wanted to make her happy.

The funny thing about that was that dating El meant he felt as if he had to live up to the expectations she had from all of the films she would mention and make them watch, even if she seemed content with what they had already. With romantic gestures, touches and pet names, the only thing not being followed through with being that heavy-weighted "L" word, he'd done it all, just for her.

So during the summer before she had to leave, he knew the forecast for the day predicted a downpour. He planned the events in his head; he would go to breakfast with her and their friends, they would spend time playing video games at Dustin's house that day and then the two of them would leave right before the rainfall (not that anyone else knew), and Mike would ask if they could take a long walk home.

He and El had never walked by Mirkwood since their meeting, and though he didn't doubt her sense of memory, she probably only had an idea of the exact spot, whereas Mike had marked a tree with their initials only a couple days after her initial disappearance nearly two years ago.

There wasn't any warning before the sudden rush of rain that drenched them, and while El gasped and cowered into him, Mike held her hand tighter, saying, "Hang on, just a little further." And he wasn't lying, it was only about thirty feet more before he spotted the engraving on the wood, and he stopped right before it.

"Mike?" El tugged at his arm with both of her hands. "Mike, what are you doing? We have to go," she scolded, but laughter bubbled out at the way he was just gaping at her, not even knowing that he could feel himself falling more and more in love at that moment.

Without any more hesitation, he pressed his lips against hers for a minute, letting himself feel the rush of the moment while his clothes and hair were soaked, sticking to his skin, sure that it was the same for her.

He pulled away slowly, watching the raindrops run down her cheeks and hearing more than feeling his heartbeat pick up from admiring her beauty.

"What... was that for?" She asked, a dumbfounded smile on her face.

Mike shrugged and smiled back sheepishly. "You know, it's what they do in the movies, right?" He replied, and he saw the dots connect in her head through her eyes as he planted another kiss to her lips.

She giggled and brought her hands to his hair, and despite how the rain only got worse, they stayed in their meeting spot, expanding upon its sentimental and special meaning for what felt like hours.

Wrist kisses didn't seem to be a common thing at all, but whenever he caught El staring at her tattoo for a second too long, he always had the urge to grab her arm and give the mark a gentle kiss. It made him feel kind of pathetic for thinking that a kiss would help to ease the memories that came with her unconsented brand, but he only wanted to make sure there were no doubts in her mind about his devotion to each and every part of her.

As per usual, El was about to go off on her own to save the world and this time had been incredibly clear to everyone that she didn't want to be stopped.

"If Vecna is going to be killed by anyone, it will be by me," were the final words said to end the argument amongst them all, and though hesitation was clear on everyone's faces, Mike was the only one who followed her when she stepped out to the front of the cabin to be alone.

By the way he saw her shoulders raise up, he knew she could tell he was there, of course, but she kept on walking further into the woods where he followed, both indifferent to the drizzling that was present. He rolled his eyes, but he wasn't angry at her, he understood, there was just no holding back his exasperation.

As El stomped on through the crisp leaves, Mike tried to call for her several times. She ignored each of his attempts for nearly half a mile, never telling him to go away or trying to stop him with her powers, but not giving him any type of response, either.

Surmising it may not be a good idea but still going through with it anyways, Mike jogged through the now pouring rain up to her and grabbed her shoulder, effectively stopping her, and he knew it was since she let him.

El turned around and glared at him, but it contained no malice, only general distaste for her walk to clear her head having been interrupted. He wanted to hug her and comfort her, but he couldn't do so without speaking to her about this first.

"What?" She asked, voice monotone and near cold.

An angry huff escaped his lips as he shrugged his shoulders and raised his hands up in question only to drop them down to his side again, followed by a plop from the dampness. "El, seriously? What are you even thinking right now? You wanna go and be this independent superhero again?" He knew he sounded angry, but after all this time, he couldn't grasp why she didn't want help.

El shook her head. "Mike. I am not fighting you on this," she warned. "I am doing this alone and you cannot stop me from that." A surprising pause that had him holding his breath, and then, "Please... stop," she pleaded, and even though she tried to come off as mad, he could see through her facade, learning how to read her long ago.

Despite how much he wanted to respect her wishes, especially since it was a trait that came naturally with her, he couldn't bear to keep his mouth shut this time, to let her walk away while all he did was stand there and watch.

"El," Mike started, voice firm even though he saw her eyes start to water, "you're going to sacrifice yourself again for what? Why can't you just accept help? Why can't we help you? Why can't I help you?"

He saw her swallow thickly, shutting her eyes for a moment to presumably hold back tears before opening them up to stare at him, the action unfruitful as tears welled up and spilled out. She hiccuped, and for a moment Mike wanted to forget the argument and let her have her way, unable to stand to see her cry, but this was one thing he had to put his foot down for.

"Mike, please—"

"No, El," he cut her off and took a step closer, and goddammit the fear in her eyes almost made him stop but he wasn't going to. "You almost died last time. Do you understand that?" El nodded in response, rain droplets on her face making her tears look like they came in an abundance, tempting him to wipe them all away. "El, if you go this time," he took a deep breath in through his nose, afraid to even speak this into existence, "this could be one of the last times I ever see you."

He watched her crumble and close in on herself, shaking her head and shivering from her sobs and the cold. He felt himself start to cry, vision becoming blurry at the sight of the girl he loved most feeling this way because of him. It took him back to their argument in her California home, but this was an entirely different situation, and he couldn't let her leave this time without him.

El didn't even respond, words failing her every time she tried, and all she was able to do was wipe away her tears with the back of her hands. At this point, Mike was unable to control himself, grabbing her left forearm right below her tattoo and bringing it to his lips to place a soft, lingering kiss, rain trailing down her arm and building up where his mouth met her skin.

Mike felt her tense up and stare at him, but he closed his eyes for a few seconds, taking another deep breath through his nose and grabbing her left wrist with both of his hands as he pulled away and looked at her.

"I love you, El. And I can't lose you," he whispered loud enough for her to hear over the pitter-patter of the rain hitting the dirt, observing the way her eyebrows drew together and her eyes softened.

It wasn't the first time he had said those words since that moment at Surfer Boy's Pizza, but it had been during sweet, romantic moments where they gazed lovingly into each other's eyes. This time was unlike the others, maybe more impactful than some of those prior, and he could see that recognition within El's stare.

She shook her head and gave him a sad smile, and he was afraid she was about to burst into tears again as she reached up to touch his cheek with one of her hands. "Mike," she sighed out shakily, "I love you, too." El glanced down and wet her lips, eyes trailing back up to his. "I'm sorry."

Mike hushed her, touching her forehead with his. "You don't have to be, El." He gave her head a kiss. "I know how much this means to you, trust me, I do." He pressed a kiss to her temple. "But you know how hard this is for me, too, right?" He placed his lips to her forehead. "I don't know if I can stand to do this again." He kissed each of her cheeks. "I don't know if I can let you go off on your own again." He gave her nose a kiss. "I want to be by your side this time, El." He touched their foreheads and noses together, rubbing them together twice. "I want to be by your side through everything." He fixated his eyes on hers to read her reaction, unblinking.

When she fluttered her eyelashes against his slowly, he felt his world complete, and he silently thanked her, and himself, for the way they learned to communicate their love through touch alone.

[almarota0]

Y es hasta ahora que entendí, que cuando amas a alguien tienes que dejarlo ir...

[que-mas-daa]

No tengo ninguna razón particular para hacer lo que hago, solo quiero salir al mundo y perderme en el...█

[kekfont]

Hablar demasiado

Cantidad de palabras: 2850

Otro día, otro caso resuelto. Eso pensé al salir de la escena del crimen con la Señorita Pamela a mi lado. Ella es una mente brillante, no por nada es la detective estrella de nuestra generación.

Mi nombre es Thomas, y desde que me convertí en su ayudante mi vida mejoro increíblemente para solo haber pasado unos pocos meses. Pamela es una gran amiga y no me puedo sentir más orgulloso de estar a su lado, además puedo usar mi asombrosa visión y atención a detalles para ayudarla las veces donde se queda estancada, es sorprendente la cantidad de veces en la cual eso la ha ayudado a atar cabos sueltos en un caso.

Empecé a trabajar con Pamela en el mes de marzo, ella siendo una cara publica de por si recibía casos de izquierda a derecha, pero cuando empecé yo hubo un incremento en pedidos de investigación. El ojo público nos llamaba “Los Sherlock y Watson de la nueva generación”, rumores empezaron a salir por todos lados insinuando todo tipo de cosas, los más locos y raros decían que éramos reencarnaciones de Eliot Ness y Allan Pinkerton

Durante abril hubo un bajón impensado en casos, pasamos dos semanas y media sin ningún suceso en el que trabajar, nos pasábamos los días en la oficina sin nada que hacer, hablando y haciendo una que otra tontería para evitar el aburrimiento durante un rato. Pero a Pamela no se le veía muy feliz, es duro ser detective sin crímenes que resolver. Después de todo sin delitos no puedes trabajar.

Pero las cosas cambiarían durante mayo, teníamos casos cada día de por medio, algunas veces teniendo que trabajar varios el mismo día, pero esto no nos molestaba, trabajo es trabajo y por más que haya tenido que pasar la noche en vela investigando dos casos sin correlación al mismo tiempo, sin duda alguna fue un mes apasionante.

Pero al bajar de la nube de emoción que fue mayo, fui capaz de notar algo cuanto menos interesante, los últimos casos que hemos trabajado tenían un patrón notorio y sospechoso, del cual me parecía raro que la señorita Pamela no mencionara. Había una alternancia constante entre el asesinato mediante apuñalada de cuchillo y disparo de arma de fuego, mayormente viniendo de una pistola pensada para protección en caso de que alguien entre a su casa a robar.

Volviendo a el presente, Pamela y yo nos encontrábamos caminando por la calle hablando sobre lo que nos ocupaba, una pobre anciana asesinada por su nieto en busca de la herencia, y en nuestro camino pude observar que ella tenía una mirada perdida, preocupada incluso.

-Señorita, ¿está bien? – le pregunté preocupado

- ¿Eh? Oh tranquilo Thomas, no es nada… -dijo mi compañera evadiendo un poco mi pregunta-

- ¿Hay algo que te preocupa Pam? – dije mientras reparaba mi atención en sus tics, el constante jugueteo con su pelo, la mirada perdida como si en frente suyo no hubiera más que un infinito vacío, esto pasa cada vez que se preocupa.

- Tom no me pasa nada, es la ansiedad post-caso ¿entiendes? –dijo en un tono medianamente cortante-

-No lo parece Pamela, ¿acaso notaste algo que no le has podido decir a las autoridades? ¿Alguna relación con un caso pasado? – Dije esperando que saque el constante cambio entre apuñalada y disparo

-Más o menos- dijo seriamente manteniendo su mirada hacia al vacío- recientemente los asesinos se notan sorprendidos de la revelación, como si genuinamente no hubieran sido ellos-

-Aun así, no tenían coartada para probar lo contrario, y las huellas en las armas coinciden- dije tratando de ver algo lo cual quizá probaba el punto de los ahora supuestos asesinos – se requeriría de una mente maestra, no… Se trataría del mayor asesino del mundo.

- ¿No sería ese asesino también una mente maestra? –dijo pamela burlándose de mi-

- No se me ocurría algo mayor que una mente maestra –dije riéndome un poco –Pero aun así eso sería imposible -

-Si… tienes razón Thomas- dijo girando la cabeza de tal forma que no podía ver su mirada

-Pero, aun así, ¿no te parece raro que los métodos sean los mismos? Apuñalado, Disparado, Apuñalado, Disparado y ahora otro Apuñalado –dije mirándola pensando que ella quizá tenía una razón para no pensar en ello-

-Son los métodos de asesinato más accesibles para la persona común, yo no pensaría mucho en ello- dijo la detective con una gran tranquilidad-

-Pero, aun así, antes había por lo menos algún estrangulamiento o ahogados a la fuerza de por medio, ¿esto no te parece, aunque sea un poco sospechoso? – dije empezando a dudar de ella, es decir, es un hecho bastante obvio y me sorprende que no lo tomara en cuenta en lo absoluto

-En lo absoluto Tom, tú solo debes de dejar de sobre pensar las cosas –dijo mirándome a los ojos con una gran sonrisa- ¿quizá unas vacaciones te vengan bien, no crees? –

Yo me sentí algo ofendido ante tal insinuación, se notaba que la señorita Pamela ocultaba algo a plena vista, pero no podía garantizar nada sin pruebas, así que antes que cometer un grave error y preguntarle directamente debo aparentar ignorancia

-No, no lo creo, -dije sonriéndole de vuelta olvidando mis sospechas por un rato-

-Vamos Tom, llevas trabajando sin descanso desde hace... ¿Cuándo empezamos a trabajar juntos? Tres meses ¿Verdad? –dijo la detective mostrando felicidad y calma en su hablar, causando que me sorprendiera debido a lo preocupada que se le veía hace unos momentos-

-Bajo esa lógica ¿Tú también necesitas esas vacaciones no? –deduje debido a que ella lleva trabajando mucho tiempo más que yo como detective- No creo haberte visto tomándote un descanso jamás, ni siquiera salir a respirar aire fresco para pensar mejor- dije burlándome un poco de su oferta, esperando que termine por dejar aquella idea en la basura… Pero al parecer aun no puedo leerla tan bien-

- ¡Entonces está decidido! ¡Iremos los dos a tomar unas vacaciones! –dijo mi ahora entusiasta compañera con una gran felicidad en su voz y su rostro- Sin casos, ni distracciones, solamente un merecido descanso después de tanto trabajo-

-Eso no suena como una buena idea, ¿Y si surge un caso y nos necesitan? – pero antes de que pudiera continuar ella coloco su mano derecha en mi boca, así callándome-

-Dije nada de casos ni distracciones, si algo llega surgir se lo dejaremos a la policía, ¿Entendido? –dijo decidida de su decisión-

Esto hizo que cientos de alarmas empezaran a sonar en mi cabeza, ella tramaba algo, pero si le mostraba mis sospechas entonces todo se iría al demonio de una manera u otra, así que lo único que pude hacer fue asentir y aceptar su propuesta.

- ¡Genial! –exclamo la detective felizmente- Saldremos mañana a las 7 en punto ¿De acuerdo? –dijo mi compañera con un gran optimismo-

- Espera un momento, ¿A dónde iremos siquiera? ¿Y salir mañana? ¿No es muy pronto? – dije preocupado a mas no poder, esta situación se sentía como un peligro creciente y constante a tal punto que no podía ocultar una mínima preocupación-

-Si salimos más tarde quizá nos encontremos con un caso, y con respecto al lugar, es una cabaña cercana a un rio, no hay mucha gente por allí- dijo tratando de que yo me sienta igual de optimista que ella –

He de admitir de que, si no hubiera tanto cadáver en el armario visible, ella estaría teniendo un muy buen punto, debido a esto, y a que debía mantener las apariencias decidí no discutir mucho más y optamos por terminar la noche allí e irnos a casa.

Por suerte a diferencia de muchos otros detectives, yo no vivo con mi compañera así que apenas llegue a mi apartamento me puse a repasar mentalmente los últimos meses en los que trabaje con ella. Durante marzo y mitad de abril las cosas iban como había hablado con la señorita Pamela, apuñalado, disparado, muerte extraña, suicidio falso, apuñalado, apuñalado, disparado, apuñalado, etcétera.

Pero desde la restante mitad de abril hasta inicios de mayo no hubo ni un solo caso, algo que cambiaría rápidamente puesto que durante los siguientes días de mayo estuvimos demasiado llenos de trabajo. Un caso cada día de por medio, al principio pensábamos que era una organización criminal masiva, o un asesino en serie, pero aquellas teorías quedaron rápidamente descartadas gracias a que los asesinos no tenían ninguna correlación más allá de lo que había mencionado Pamela sobre que parecían estar sorprendidos del resultado.

Recordé lo raro que se comportaba la señorita pamela al mencionar lo de las formas de asesinato, también se me vino a la cabeza un pequeño recuerdo de abril, una vez que Pamela expreso lo aburrida que estaba y que quería que hubiera un caso para salir de tal aburrimiento. Así que empecé a revisar más allá de todo esto, decidí revisar la reputación de la Señorita Pamela durante aquella parte de abril sin casos, y ahí encontré algo interesante, su popularidad e ingresos habían bajado bastante, la parte de ingresos es obvia debido a que un detective no puede conseguir dinero sin casos a trabajar. Pero la parte de popularidad era interesante, hasta la fecha se le conoce como la mejor detective de nuestra generación, pero por alguna razón desconocida para mí, ella paso de tal estatus a ser bastante poco recordada durante inicios de abril, cosa que parece haber ocasionado su mitad de abril e inicios de mayo sin casos.

Llegué a una teoría posible, la señorita Pamela había llamado a sicarios para que cometieran tales asesinatos, para así volver a su estado anterior y tener más ingresos, incriminando a inocentes para que ni el sicario ni ella acabaran en prisión, pero eso no cuadraría del todo debido a los métodos, dudo bastante que la mayoría de sicarios se limiten a hacer las cosas así de simples y extrañas por llamarle de alguna forma

Continué durante el resto la noche explorando distintas posibilidades y teorías, pero ninguna me convencía en su totalidad, lo peor de todo es que una gran parte apuntaba a la señorita Pamela como la asesina detrás de todo.

Pero me reusaba a aceptarlo ella era una gran amiga, nunca la vi necesitada de la popularidad perdida o que la falta de dinero generado a través de casos le afectase. Además, aunque sea una mente brillante sería raro que nadie más dentro de la policía hubiera notado algo antes que la incrimine, las pruebas que tenia se basaban a suposiciones y no era suficiente como para llegar a una verdad concreta.

Revisé la hora, eran las cinco y media, decidí dejar todo a un lado y preparar la maleta para el viaje, seguía preocupado, pero no había mucho que pudiera hacer… Exceptuando una cosa.

Antes de salir a las siete menos cuarto decidí dejar una nota en mi escritorio junto a la investigación de aquellos últimos tres meses, la nota explicaba mis teorías apuntando a Pamela como una asesina y que, si me encontraban muerto o desaparecido, entonces que se culpase a ella como asesina, una medida de prevención final por si las teorías son correctas.

Pero al salir de mi hogar las cosas no salieron como esperaba, había 4 autos de policía esperándome, formando una pequeña barricada alrededor de la puerta de mi apartamento, al frente estaba el Lugarteniente Wintersea, él es la razón por la cual yo y Pamela habíamos sido capaces de poder investigar escenas de crímenes, revisar expedientes criminales, cámaras de seguridad, entre otros diversos procedimientos que facilitaron nuestras investigaciones.

-Oficial- dije desconcertado acercándome al lugarteniente- ¿Qué ocurre? ¿Qué es todo esto?

-Lo que ocurre Thomas es que estas arrestado –dijo con seriedad en su rostro y voz causando una gran sorpresa y miedo en mi- Se te acusa de estar detrás de decenas de asesinatos inculpando a pobres inocentes.

Ante esto yo estaba sin palabras causando que una teoría surgiera en mi mente, para la cual solo necesitaba realizar una pregunta

- ¿Fue Pamela quien le hablo de todo esto? ¿Es ella quien me está acusando? – le pregunté

El lugarteniente asintió con la cabeza y empezó a explicar –Ayudante de la mayor detective allí afuera, manera perfecta de ocultar sospechas, siguiendo un obvio patrón tras quedarse sin ideas, y un posible plan de asesinato hacia la señorita Pamela quien estaba muy cerca de reportar la verdad. ¿Estoy en lo incorrecto? –

Intenté reprochar, quería explicar como yo era inocente y Pamela era la verdadera asesina detrás de todo, pero antes de abrir la boca me di cuenta que no tenía nada, claro, estaba la investigación, pero esta era solo un conjunto de teorías, no había pruebas de que ella estuviera realmente detrás de todo esto, cosa que me hizo preguntarme otra cosa.

-Hasta ahora todo lo que ha dicho son acusaciones y teorías, ¿Hay alguna prueba que demuestre que yo sea el culpable? – dije pensando que tenía la situación bajo control, pero no podía estar más equivocado debido a que me olvidaba de algo crucial –

- Confiamos plenamente en la palabra de Pamela – en aquel momento me di cuenta, Pamela es la detective respetada y aclamada por todos, si ella quiere puede tener a todo el cuerpo de policía comiendo de su mano. Estuve a punto de hablar para reprochar, pero el levanto la mano indicando que aún no terminaba – haremos una inspección más a fondo para encontrar pruebas concretas, pero por ahora lo detendremos en la comisaria, ¿De acuerdo?

Esta era una pelea difícil, pero decidí entregarme confiado de que no se encontraran pruebas, era mi palabra contra la de Pam, y la palabra de la detective más inteligente de la época vale más que la de su ayudante.

Pase 3 días en la comisaria, hasta que el Lugarteniente vino con noticias horribles para mí. Resulto ser que Pamela encontró gran cantidad de grabaciones mostrando que yo estaba cerca de los lugares donde asesinatos ocurrieron a las horas en las que ocurrieron. Quería decir que las grabaciones eran falsas, pero mi falta de coartada de donde estaba en aquellos días a aquellas horas no me permitía defenderme.

Así que tomaron la decisión de llevarme a la prisión al día siguiente, pero antes de marcharse, el lugarteniente me esposo y me llevo con él.

-Antes de transferirte hay alguien que quiere hablar contigo, Pamela está aquí- dijo serio el lugarteniente, quien me miraba con una gran ira en su mirada, después de todo, el confiaba en mi hasta aquel punto.

Wintersea me llevo a una puerta, detrás de esta se encontraba la señorita Pamela sentada detrás de una mesa en un cuarto rodeado de paredes de ladrillos grises, el lugarteniente me esposo la mano a una de las patas de la mesa y me sentó en una silla para luego marcharse, dejándome solo frente a frente con mi ex-compañera.

-Si te hubieras callado no estarías aquí, ¿sabes Tom? –dijo ella con una mirada en sus ojos que nunca había visto, tenía una gran malicia en su mirar, sabía lo que estaba haciendo y estaba sonriendo por ello- Si tan solo no hubieras dicho ni una sola palabra sobre los métodos yo no hubiera tenido que acusarte, pero también hiciste esa investigación… Por cierto, bien hecho allí, le diste al clavo con lo ocurrido, excepto con el tiempo desde cuando llevo haciéndolo.

Estaba impactado, ella había confesado todas mis sospechas, y no tenía a nadie quien la escuchara más que mí mismo, no había cámaras en la sala ni ninguna manera de que alguien escuchara lo que pasaba ahí adentro.

-Llevo haciendo esto desde mis inicios Thomas –continúo explicando ella- nadie me hubiera contratado si no resolvía mis propios casos, claro que si existían casos que eran genuinos, pero no hay tantos asesinos en el mundo como para mantenerme a base de solo casos-

-Eres un monstruo… -dije con furia en mi voz. Traicionado de tal manera por alguien quien consideraba amiga mía, una persona con la cual yo pasé varias noches en vela trabajando codo con codo.

Ella me ignoró y continuó –Luego para no perder relevancia necesitaba a un compañero que sea listo, pero creo que elegí uno demasiado listo… -dijo haciendo una pequeña pausa mientras me miraba- necesite parar un poco con los asesinatos para que no me descubrieras muy rápido, pero realmente fue un error lo de los métodos, y tú fuiste el único que lo noto.

-Esto no se va a acabar aquí Pamela, le mostrare al mundo lo que hiciste- dije con ansia de venganza y gran resentimiento

- ¿Y cómo esperas probarlo? ¿Quién te va a creer ahora que eres uno de los más grandes asesinos de la época? –dijo con certeza- El hablar de más hizo que tuviera que meterte aquí y aun así quieres seguir hablando, ¿En serio piensas cavar tanto tu propia tumba?

Ella soltó una pequeña risa mientras se levantaba de su silla y se dirigía hacia la salida.

-Hasta nunca Thomas, espero que te vaya bien en prisión. - Dijo para luego salir de aquel cuarto, y desaparecer de mi vida para siempre.

[annetorres-blog]

LOS ÚLTIMOS PEDAZOS DE UN CORAZÓN ROTO

¿Cuándo fue que claudiqué? ¿Cuándo qué me rendí? Cierro los ojos y se suceden los amantes, hasta que las relaciones, cada vez, son más breves. Y ya, ni siquiera, esas fugaces noches de hotel—ni a tu casa, ni, por supuesto, a la mía —. No obstante, por un momento, pienso que si puedo amarlo y él a mí. Y, solo por eso, merece la pena haber llegado hasta allí, aunque la madrugada sea áspera, y, más bien, solitaria. Cierro los ojos, y me veo, pasando los dedos por el espléndido pelo rubio de Dani. Me veo con Mike, en Boca del Cielo, donde nos gustaba perdernos. Veo a Iván, tan guapo, en aquella boda, justo el día que supe que había dejado de amarme. Cierro los ojos, y, me veo, esperando el mensaje de Ibu, ese que nunca llegará. O la disculpa de Jacques, la retractación de Farid. No es que me quiera ir zumbando, simplemente, dame una razón para quedarme. Al final, todos son el mismo porque sé que todos dirán lo mismo: que fui yo. Que yo, les rompí el corazón. Que no puedo estarme quieta. Que, como el perro del hortelano, tengo miedo a comprometerme. Y eso, no es del todo así. Cierro los ojos y se suceden las geografías y los amantes. Y lo cierto es que ninguno quiso amarme como yo era. Solo que me sentara a su lado y me dejara llevar, ¿adónde?... A ninguna parte. Nadie supo, o tal vez quiso, acompañarme. Besarme despacio... Todas sabemos que es más cómodo lo otro. Hasta que me cansé: creo saber el final... Ese pinchazo en el pecho. Y me aburro de pensarlo. Tal vez, cobarde. No obstante, evito el preludio, las orquídeas y los clarines, así, también, me ahorro el desenlace. ¿Adónde quieres que salgamos? ¿Para qué?... Después de todo, puede que no sea tan insomne como presumo, y es el Gatopardo quien me despierta todas las noches. Tecleo estas líneas mientras, en algún lugar, no muy lejos de aquí, dos hombres discuten. "¡Eres un yonqui!", gritan. Y se oyen golpes. Espero que, al menos, no llegue la sangre al río... Parece que la heroína, bien. ¿Se dan cuenta? Siempre soy la última en enterarse de todo...

[bonnies-life]

Yo estoy segura de que quiero estar contigo.

Pero, ¿Tú?

¿Estás seguro de que quieres estar conmigo?