Page 88 of Make Me Pretty
“We’ll only ever be hate and madness, won’t we?”
There’s a long pause as his vibrant irises scour every inch of my face. His thumb grazes the drying, itchy tracks over my cheeks, most likely smearing mascara around.
I find that I don’t care in the slightest when it’s Peris making a mess of me.
“Anguish, too.” And then, he’s pushing up and away to yank his shorts up, covering his glistening, soft cock. I stare at his crotch, feeling an odd sense of desolation.
Peris’s eyes dart toward me for a moment before tracking over the mess we made. My messed up hair, ruffled, twisteduniform now stained in various fluids. The bottle of lube abandoned off to the side, cap open as it spills onto the floor.
His hands catch on a bar above him as he moves to yank on his hair, a gesture he makes often when he’s frustrated or confused or feeling too much of anything, really.
And then, his phone rings, cutting through the echoing silence. His muscles tense, and he turns his back on me. Leaving me alone on the cold, gym floor with his cum leaking out of my ass.
The loss of his presence is jarring as I push to my feet, albeit unsteadily. My hips ache, ass on fire as I step into my spanks, pulling them up to hopefully catch most of Peris’s cum. I wriggle, unable to bite back my small smirk at the sensation. It’s a feeling I’m used to, but knowing it’s Peris’s spunk makes it feel different.
His words of anguish flutter around in my mind as I shove all my shit back into my bag and duck below bars as I step out from beneath the bleachers. And even though the lights above are a dull yellow, I still blink rapidly through their brightness.
Peris’s back is to me, phone to his ear as, I assume, he listens to someone talk. I don’t bother waiting, knowing he got what he wanted and that’s the end of it. Shame should coat every inch of my skin as I walk away and push the door open, but it doesn’t.
It never does.
Because I got what I wanted, too.
“Where the fuck do you think you’re going?” Peris shouts from behind me just as the door slips from my fingers. I quirk a brow he can’t see before continuing on my way.
I’m playing hot and cold with him—I know that. But I also don’t know any other way.
In the moment, it’s so easy to fall into it all—the visceral infatuation. But after, when we’re separated and the haze beginsto fade, I remember it’s not real life—just like I always do—and the sting of reality hurts a little more.
In fact, it’s beginning to hurt so much, getting high is the only thing that helps. It’s never been my bag—Peris was right about it being something out of my control—but it fades the need that grows inside me a little more every day.
The need for Peris and the strange comfort he gives me. It’s like… I don’t have to hide with him like I do every other person in the world. He already sees me as I am—all my ugly—and he thinks I’m pretty, anyway.
Hemademe pretty.
But I can’tneedit—because it’ll get taken away. It always does.
The only person in the world I ever needed was Mo, and after I got busted for stealing food, I never fucking saw her again.
The pain of that nearly did me in. I can’t do it again.
I don’t think I’ll survive it. So… I push away. I get hatred and anger and release, and then, I walk away. Because it’s the only thing that makes sense. And it’s like I told Peris.
I fucking get it now.
The dance of demons only leads to the descent into Hell. And I can’t fall into it with him.
“Don’t fucking walk away from me!” Peris shouts at my back, causing me to startle. I tense from head to toe at the volume as it resounds, but my steps don’t slow.
“Abel!” Louder,closer.
The toe of my shoe catches on the lip of the door as I push through, and I stumble forward. My bag flies off my shoulder, and the zipper rips, all of my things inside flying across the floor.
My knees crack against the mat below as I stare out at the only things I really own, exposed to the luminescent moonlight.
A sob rips through my throat before I can stop it, and the tears gush. My body curls inward, arms wrapped around my middle in a pathetic attempt to keep it all inside—but it’s useless.
Just like me.
