Slow Motion

I was sitting on Kylie’s couch looking at her sleep. She looked so peaceful and innocent; her mind unpolluted with the thoughts of my wrongdoings. As I sat there, I contemplated on how I should tell Kylie what had happened. Do I straight out tell her? Or should I tell her that some bloke was in debt to me and payed the price, casually slipping in the fact of who he was.

Though it was a touchy subject, it helps if your girlfriend knows all the facts.

Kylie started to stir, her tiny and strong body was draped over mine. “Oli,” she whispered, her eyes squinted.

“I’m right here, love.” I propped her up so that we were face to face. Kylie smiled when she realized that I was there with her and kissed me.

I fondly kissed her back. “Love, I’ve got to be headin’ home.”

“So soon?”

“What? Yesterday you were practically beggin’ meh to leave!” I was just teasing, and Kylie knew it. She smiled that cute smile of hers and kissed the tip of my nose.

“Call me later then?” Kylie asked as she walked me to the door.

“Hm? Oh, yea, sure, love.” I have her forehead a quick kiss and headed out the door in the direction of my house, about 12 blocks away.

I guess that I must have been thinking a lot because it took me longer then I expected to get home. I’d left Kylie’s place around three in the afternoon, and inadvertently spent the rest of the day wandering around my neighbourhood. When I walked in the front door the street lamps outside buzzed at full glow.

“Oli!” My mother shrieked from the kitchen. She walked out wearing an apron, holding a dirty wooden spatula. The house was a wreck; things were turned over and the occasional dish lay on a table. “Where the hell have you been?” She started on a rant, something about being responsible and letting my mother know where I am.

I ignored her raves and climbed the stairs to my room, the claustrophobic atmosphere of my house bringing back all the stress that I had just managed to put aside.

Without even bothering with my door, I tugged off my shirt and pants and flopped on my bed, flipping open my phone.

“I’m home. Why did I leave?” I texted Kylie. Closing my phone, I rolled over on my back and rubbed my hands on my forehead.

A few minutes later my phone buzzed. “Hey, babe,” I answered.

“Hey cutie,” she answered back. “Is it really that bad?”

“Love, I can’t wait to get a place of my own.”

“Well, just suck it up, eh? You know you can come and crash at my place. Whenever you need.”

“Yea, love. I know.”

“Alright.”

I snapped shut my phone and turned off my bedroom light, and closed my eyes. I tried to get some sleep, but luck just wasn’t on my side these days.

At first is was very soft, but then it grew louder and louder. I got up from my bed and swaggered over to my sister’s room, finding exactly what I expected to find.

She was about 16 years old; too young to be doing this sort of thing. Her impossibly small body lay on her floor, stripped down to it’s underwear. Droplets of moisture clung to her skin and loud, painful moans flew from her mouth.

Then I saw it. A little collection of paint chips lay at her side. I immediately felt no sympathy for her. I slammed the door to her room closed and hurried back to mine.

I collapsed in the chair at my desk, eyes my bottom drawer. Ignoring my phone buzzing, I pulled out a small metal box; the kind a schoolchild may use for their mathematics kit. I pulled off the lid and stared at the contents. The contents of which I hadn’t used for months.

I took in a deep breath and fastened the thick, rubbery band around my arm and tied it tight. I let my head loosely roll back as I shot the smack into my veins.

I shook my head at my own stupidity; why was I getting myself into this again? Nevertheless, I removed the elastic band, allowing the blood in my arm, poisoned with the heroin, to circulate throughout my body.

I head hummed and I could feel my body being lifted out of itself; if that makes any sense. I swayed back and forth in utter bliss before lurching over to my window.

From my window I could see into my neighbours house. If I was in a normal state of mind I would have been shocked my what I saw. Given that I wasn’t in a normal state of mind, I didn’t find what I saw shocking or even appalling at all; it seemed woefully beautiful.

He, a man, was beating his wife. But I could see past the pure abuse; past what some people would call domestic violence. He didn’t hate his wife or have anything against her. He hated his life. His wife, though, was the closed outlet for his hate.

I cocked my head to the side, observing the slight arc in his wrist as he swung at his wife. Mournful groans broke from her lips with each hit; then cries of pain evidently showed no sign of sympathy on her husbands face. Nor on mine, for that matter.

I wandered away from the window, the sounds of my sisters cries drowned by the wall that stood between us. I pulled of the only remaining clothing I had on, my boxers, off, and fell onto my bed. I looked up at the ceiling for a long time, thinking about what would happen to me if I got caught.

“Kylie?” I groaned into my phone. It wasn’t even on.

Somehow she managed to figure out that I wanted her. A woke in the middle of the night to a rock being thrown at my window. I went over, still completely bare. I pulled open my window, Kylie practically falling in, onto me.

“Hey, love. What are you doin’ here?”

“To see you,” She replied, which was clearly not her intention. Kylie pushed me back onto my bed. Maybe it was just the drugs, maybe not; but she had a vicious brutality in her movements that made me want her even more.

I lay there, helplessly unprotected, and watched as Kylie slipped off her shirt and then her pants. She slid her thin body on top of mine and kissed my neck.

Kylie and I have always had a very sexual relationship, but it was never like this. She pushed herself closer to me, even though there was no way she could possibly get any closer. “I need you so much,” Kylie breathed as her lips briefly detached from my skin.

I pushed my thumbs into the sides of her underwear and slipped them off. Kylie looked at me, her eyes wide and her lips puffy. I smiled at her innocence before wrapping my arms around her naked hips and pushing myself into her. Kylie’s legs went soft beneath my hands. She wrapped her legs around me and pushed myself into her more. I opened my mouth, a small, almost inaudible groan.

And, yet, at that moment my mind wasn’t on the sex. It was on the goings on next door. On that disgustingly beautiful hate.