Playing With Puppets
Chapter Five
Valentines Day.
Such a sickening holiday, making single people feel bad about themselves and pinning shitty card hearts all over the place for no real reason, promoting the idea that if you love someone then you buy them a gift for Valentines Day.
We never really went for Valentines Day at all, so imagine my surprise when you wake me with a kiss, the spark in your eye that lets me know that today is a good day.
What inspired this?
You kiss me again and I’m fairly certain this is the best wake-up call I have ever received in my life.
“I made you pancakes.” I swear your voice has dropped a couple of octaves and I nearly melt, if I physically could melt I would be a wet patch on the bed by now, and I’ve only been awake for three minutes.
“Happy Valentines Day, babe.”
I’ve always hated it when you called me ‘babe’, it makes me feel like a possession, something disposable…
But for now, I just smile, letting my eyes do the talking, I pray to a god I don’t believe in, I pray that this is for real, that this isn’t going to end the moment my eyes betray my fear.
A scream and I bolt,
I head for the door,
A pity it’s locked,
But what are locks for?
I beg and you hit me,
You call me a whore,
You hit me again,
And I hit the floor.
I wake up bruised.
How did you know?
How can you always tell when I’m scared?
I get up, flexing muscles, prodding bones gingerly, making sure nothing’s broken and I sigh in relief, I got off lucky this time.
Walking to the bathroom is painful, but necessary and a moment after I’ve figured the catch on the cupboard, painkillers are sliding down my throat and I have to stumble into the bedroom to make sure I don’t pass out on the floor again.
Bottles so pretty,
Orange out of place,
Pills chalk-white,
Put a smile on my face,
Maybe one day,
I’ll escape from it all,
With my pills and a smile,
I won’t have to fall.
“You have to leave him.”
I blink blearily, hardly seeing the figure of my best friend in front of me.
“Look at you, Zacky, you’re a fucking mess. You can’t go on like this.”
“I’m fine.” My words are so slurred with vodka I hardly recognise them myself.
Matt doesn’t even blink. Sometimes I think he’s seen me drunk too many times.
“If everything’s fine why do you come over and drink yourself into oblivion every other night.”
I don’t have a response so I lazily give him the finger.
“Everything’s fine…”
It’s not. I’m lying. But he can’t know that.
If he knew it then they’d take me away from you… and you’re all I’ve got left.
I need you there.
Such a sickening holiday, making single people feel bad about themselves and pinning shitty card hearts all over the place for no real reason, promoting the idea that if you love someone then you buy them a gift for Valentines Day.
We never really went for Valentines Day at all, so imagine my surprise when you wake me with a kiss, the spark in your eye that lets me know that today is a good day.
What inspired this?
You kiss me again and I’m fairly certain this is the best wake-up call I have ever received in my life.
“I made you pancakes.” I swear your voice has dropped a couple of octaves and I nearly melt, if I physically could melt I would be a wet patch on the bed by now, and I’ve only been awake for three minutes.
“Happy Valentines Day, babe.”
I’ve always hated it when you called me ‘babe’, it makes me feel like a possession, something disposable…
But for now, I just smile, letting my eyes do the talking, I pray to a god I don’t believe in, I pray that this is for real, that this isn’t going to end the moment my eyes betray my fear.
A scream and I bolt,
I head for the door,
A pity it’s locked,
But what are locks for?
I beg and you hit me,
You call me a whore,
You hit me again,
And I hit the floor.
I wake up bruised.
How did you know?
How can you always tell when I’m scared?
I get up, flexing muscles, prodding bones gingerly, making sure nothing’s broken and I sigh in relief, I got off lucky this time.
Walking to the bathroom is painful, but necessary and a moment after I’ve figured the catch on the cupboard, painkillers are sliding down my throat and I have to stumble into the bedroom to make sure I don’t pass out on the floor again.
Bottles so pretty,
Orange out of place,
Pills chalk-white,
Put a smile on my face,
Maybe one day,
I’ll escape from it all,
With my pills and a smile,
I won’t have to fall.
“You have to leave him.”
I blink blearily, hardly seeing the figure of my best friend in front of me.
“Look at you, Zacky, you’re a fucking mess. You can’t go on like this.”
“I’m fine.” My words are so slurred with vodka I hardly recognise them myself.
Matt doesn’t even blink. Sometimes I think he’s seen me drunk too many times.
“If everything’s fine why do you come over and drink yourself into oblivion every other night.”
I don’t have a response so I lazily give him the finger.
“Everything’s fine…”
It’s not. I’m lying. But he can’t know that.
If he knew it then they’d take me away from you… and you’re all I’ve got left.
I need you there.