I am transcribing this directly from the notebook. It is hard to resist the urge to edit my words but this is the challenge I have set myself. Trust me.
It was a hot night. Humid and close. I knew I would not sleep well. Lying there in the dark alone, I resigned myself to fitful sleep.
My hand reached down to find my cunt. It was difficult to know what else to do on a night like this. I was wet already, but that was partly sweat, and the remains of my period.
I’m not sure how to describe how I felt. I never have any trouble getting myself off. But, just as a mood can change between two lovers, so can an atmosphere shift and darken, even when I am alone, my right hand finding its way into my sticky wetness.
As I lay there I began to imagine you, approaching me with your belt. Me bending over, ready for the blows. I felt the heat of the first strike as I pushed my fingers further into my cunt. It was so dark and hot.
But my thoughts blurred and wavered and the scenario flickered and faded. The more I rubbed and probed, the more I connected to myself, just me. Lying in the darkness on this hot night. You disappeared.
I thought about how I’d come to be this girl. This whore. I didn’t really know but I knew I’d got there somehow. I knew it hurt. As my orgasm began to peek through the gap in my thoughts, as the wetness intensified, a wave of loneliness and despair coarsed through my body.
I remembered feeling like this before. Totally vulnerable and scared and sad. I remembered my partner entering me and the deep well of sadness inside being too much. Because that was where ‘He’ got to me, how he (that other, malevolent ‘he’ of my nightmares) had reached in and taken all my sense of wholeness. He ripped me apart from inside. And when my boyfriend tried to fuck me with love, all I could do was cry.
And all I could do was cry now. My orgasm made my muscles twitch. My body shook with involuntary sobs. I cried for that hole that void inside that ‘he’ had left. I cried for the little girl that always felt so lost.
My body shook as I came. I came and I cried and when I turned over to reach out my arms to you there was nobody there.
*I might have called this ‘Coming and Crying’, but that belongs to Melissa and Megan. www.melissagira.tumblr.com T: @melissagira @meaghano
Coming and Crying is a set of personal stories from ‘the other side of the bed’. Out soon in U.S.A
** I changed two or three suffixes to make the past tense consistent. Sorry.