Heartkiller

Tuesday December 3, 2013 (continued)

After seeing a toddler wandering through the busy New York streets, Ville's lingering frustrations were released, causing him to lash out at Dr. Ashbury for failing to help him efficiently. In response, she had pushed his buttons while asking for some sort of explanation for his rash temper, and he had exploded into a fit of rage before storming out of the office. Still fuming, he had rushed home to look through the numerous photo albums documenting his relationship with Avery, as he sought out some means of comfort. The pitter-patter of the rain hitting the windows was all that kept him company. At the moment, he was sitting on the floor with his legs apart; he was shivering slightly from the cold, but he didn’t bother to get a blanket and seek warmth.

His wedding album was to his left and was filled with pictures of everything from the Avery getting ready to the guests filing inside the hall to the ceremony itself. An album filled with tour pictures was on the floor to Ville’s right; whenever Avery flew out to his shows, which she made every effort to do, they would take a couple hours to themselves to explore the city. Sometimes, there weren’t many tourist spots in the city that they happened to be in, but it didn’t matter because the couple found some way to keep themselves entertained. All that mattered was that they were spending time together. He had already reviewed pages from these two albums, so they had been kept to the side; his attention was now focused on the vacation album he held in his hands. Aside from travelling for shows, the twosome often went on vacations together to places that they hadn’t already seen during Ville’s tour schedules. The pages were riddled with precious moments they had shared, and every image incited a memory for him to recall.

He turned the page to see pictures from their trip to Hawaii. There was one in particular that caught his eye; the backdrop was a waterfall they had come across in the midst of a hike through the forest. Ville’s right arm was around her waist and connected with her right hand, which was perched at her hip. They faced the camera, but the picture was anything but normal. Avery’s head was tilted to one side, her tongue was sticking out, and she had crossed her eyes to result in one hell of a pose. In the moment the picture was being taken, Ville was fully aware of what she was doing and was trying to hold back his laughter until the flash of the camera went off. At that point of the trip, Avery had grown tired of taking pictures with a smile, which seemed monotonous, and decided to come up with a different pose for every picture thereafter. Thus, she had a unique pose in all the pictures from the Hawaii trip, and it was very entertaining for Ville to go through them now and laugh at her attempts.

He flipped through the pages and landed on one of himself. Rather, it was of Ville’s mouth, and the memory of the incident was quite vivid. Avery had taken the picture while the two were flying in a helicopter over the Grand Canyon and had focused on his open mouth, which he had left agape in awe at the beautiful sights. She had caught him off-guard; he had been looking out the window at the reddish-orange hues of the canyon. The flash of the camera had caught his eye, and Ville remembered how he had reacted when he had caught her taking the picture: he whisked the Nikon out of her hands and pulled her close into a hug to attack her with kisses, to which she responded with a round of giggles.

Momentarily, he was calmed by her laughing poses in the pictures and by the memories associated with the photographs, but his mood quickly turned sour at the realization that this is all he would ever have with Avery: memories. The past seven years of their lives had been reduced to mere photographs and the neural pathways in Ville’s mind that connected the images to events. He could relive the memories and he could retell the events to others, but that’s all he’ll ever have. He would have the comfort of knowing that the love he and Avery had for each other was true, but Ville could never create any new memories with her. It saddened him deeply that even when he was able to forget her death, if only for a few minutes, he would soon remember and the world would crash around him once more. A month after the accident, he expected the pain and the hurt to diminish; however, every time he had the sudden realization that she was gone, it was like he was hearing the news of her death for the first time, and the core of his being burned with the desire to turn back time and stop the accident. It was the same cycle of relief then pain; it was torturous.

He set the album down in the space between his legs. He looked around the apartment; he was searching for somebody to lift his spirits. Of course, there wasn’t anybody else there. He had been alone for a few weeks now, and he would continue to be alone for the rest of his life. People would come and visit him, sure, but it wouldn’t be the same. No one could console him like she could. No one could pick up his bleeding heart off the cold floor and reimpose it into his empty chest; not like she could. Ville lay back so that his entire body was lolled on the floor, and he stared at the ceiling. He reached in his pocket in search of his box of cigarettes, but with no luck. His eyes scanned the living room without him having to sit up and spotted the box on the table by the door. Ugh. Too far, he thought. He settled back on the floor and groaned. No cigarettes, no people. No Avery. Nothing to ameliorate his pain.

“What I wouldn’t give to be with you again, darling.” he whispered, as if speaking directly to her. “If only for one last time, I would give anything... If I knew that the last kiss we’d shared was the last one I’d ever have, I would have savored it eternally. I never would have let you go. My heart yearns to hold you tightly for the warmest embrace…. To kiss you sweetly… To lay in bed without a care in the world….

“Take me. Take me with you.” he said. He started reaching above him as if clasping hands with Avery, whom he imagined to be looking down from heaven. “Free me, darling. Don’t you see how hard it is for me to exist without you? Why do you… why do you torture me so? Help me escape, Ave. Help me. Take me to where you are, and we... we can be happy again."

Nothing happened, and he dropped his hands helplessly. His face fell from the disappointment that his feeble attempt hadn’t changed anything.

"Yeah, I didn't think it was gonna be that easy." He muttered. "I hope I'll be joining you soon, Ave. I don't care that I wouldn't ever see my family or the band or ever play music again. I only want you.” he turned his body into the fetal position, holding his knees to his chest as he continued to murmur softly. “You're all that matters. You're all I care about. I just want… you."

The doorbell rang and interrupted his thoughts. It took a moment before he could convince himself to get off the floor and answer it. He didn’t expect any visitors for the day, but he thought that this may be the answer he had been searching for. This may be the response Avery had sent for him after hearing his desperate pleas. He stood from his place on the floor and clambered towards the door; when he opened it, he saw that the hallway was gloomy and one of the lights was flickering, creating an eerie ambience. His gaze focused to the dark figure standing before him.

Ville was surprised to see a woman with her head hanging low towards the floor. Her hair was dripping from the rain outside, and she had a large black duffel bag in her hand. Her frame leaned to one side due to the weight of the bag. She was biting her bottom lip, practically chewing the skin completely off. Her hands were balled into fists, and she kneaded her palms, though she was still holding back tears. Her face was pale and devoid of any makeup that could have blurred the evident sadness. In fact, her cheeks were red and her eyelids puffy from the tears that she had already spilled, and she didn’t care to cover it up. It took a moment for him to recognize the figure, and he almost fell back from the sheer shock.

“Paige.” he started, and his mind rushed back to reality and away from the delusion that he could speak to the dead. “Hey, what are you doing here? What’s, what’s wrong?”

“Hey. I know this is a lot to ask, but--but do you mind... “ she struggled to whisper as she held back her sobs. Her face was still low, and she avoided making eye contact. “...if I stay here for a few days? I, um, I don’t have anywhere else to go.”

“Uh - yeah, sure, yeah. Come on inside,” he invited, opening the door further.

“Thanks.” Paige mumbled. She set her duffel under the table by the doorway; she took off her wet shoes and left them by the bag because she didn’t want to drench the floor with her steps.

He was baffled by the condition she was in, as he had never seen her this way. She was usually an optimistic and bright woman who always took care in her appearance. He remembered her to be someone who always wore a smile on her face. To see her this way was perplexing. Not only had he not seen her so dismal before, but also he had never been approached for a favor by her. She was Avery’s assistant; it was usually she who handled other people’s favors. Right now, to be in a state of utter desperation was the antithesis of the person Ville had seen her to be. She seemed to be so… broken.

“What happened?” he asked, closing the door behind him.

She hesitantly walked further into the living room and paused when she got to the couch. Paige took the time to stall as she thought of the response she wanted to give. After all, she owed him an explanation to show up on his doorstep unexpectedly and to ask to spend a few nights; however, she didn’t know if she was ready to tell someone what had made her this way. Did she dare to utter the words aloud at the risk of breaking down again? She crossed her arms defensively and scratched the back of her neck uneasily.

“It’s nothing. I, um, I don’t really want to talk about it right now.” she replied, keeping her voice low.

“Oh, yeah, that’s okay. I’m sorry for asking. Do you, uh, you wanna change out of the wet clothes, and I’ll fix you a cup of tea?” he offered. He was still caught off guard by the ordeal and slowly started to recall the appropriate etiquette of a host.

“Uh, sure. Yeah, that’d be nice. Thanks.”

“Make yourself comfortable, Paige.”

She went back to her bag and ruffled through it to find a loose-fitting tunic to wear and a towel with which to dry her hair. She made her way to the bathroom to change. In the meantime, Ville went to the kitchen and started boiling water for the tea. He pulled out a few tea bags from the cupboard and poured the hot water into two cups to let the tea steep. He was curious as to what had happened to the poor woman that had caused her to shrivel up like this. Being Avery’s assistant, she knew all about the life the couple had shared, but he didn’t know much about her in return. Ville recalled a few tidbits of information he had picked up over the years--her penchant for exotic food, a husband named Russell whom she’d loved since college, and a belief in a karmic cosmos--but otherwise, she was a stranger to him.

Paige emerged from the hallway in the tunic, which reached her knees, and an oversized cardigan. She walked towards the kitchen and leaned against the counter from the side of the living room. Her hair had been semi-dried and tied away into a ponytail. It seemed like she had also rinsed her face, but her eyes remained puffy and red. She crossed her arms over her chest and inhaled.

“Smells good.” she commented.

“It’s chamomile. It’s good for the heart, both physically and emotionally. Would you like milk or honey?” he asked.

“Honey is fine.”

Ville handed her a cup of the tea and placed the bottle along with a teaspoon for her to serve herself. She mixed in some honey and tasted the warm drink. When she was satisfied, she took the cup and walked to the couch, where Ville joined her after he had prepared his own tea.

“So how are you?” she asked.

“Fucking miserable.”

“Join the club.” she muttered.

“I’m tired of going through the same thing every single day. I can’t keep laying around and writing and going to therapy and talking about things that happened years and years ago. I’m going to drive my head through a wall from all this monotony.”

“Don’t do that. There are a lot of fans that would be really upset if something like that were to happen to you.” Paige said in a deadpan voice, and he smirked at her candor. She took a few more sips of the tea and set the cup on the coffee table to let the drink cool.

“I haven’t thought much about them, actually. I’ve been in my own little world, but I wonder what they'd think if... If they found out…”

"About Avery?"

Ville nodded. "Yeah, I wonder how they'd react."

"I think they'd be curious about how you were feeling and they'd want to make sure you were okay. They'd probably also wonder about the state of the band."

"What do you mean?"

"Like if you'd still be together."

"Of course the band would still be together. If anything, I think we'd be working even harder because of all the material."

"What do you mean? You've been writing music?" She inquired.

"Of course, I have. I couldn't let my guitar go, especially for the first few days when… when the pain of the news was still fresh. I've been writing with Sylvester, the guitar she gave me for my birthday a few years ago, and it's made me feel more connected to her in a way. No matter what I try to do though, I feel really helpless and that's the worst part. I don't know what to do without her."

Paige squirmed uneasily and looked away to brush some tears off her cheeks, and Ville dismissed it. From her earlier reaction, he knew that she’d talk to him when she was ready. He didn’t want to push her unnecessarily, so he didn’t acknowledge her actions.

“Sometimes I feel like she’s still hanging around.” He smirked. “I can feel her presence every now and then, more so recently; it’s unmistakable that it’s her.”

“It sounds like I came here just in time. I think I might have saved you from a bout of insanity if you’re feeling the presence of ghosts.” she said lightheartedly.

“It’s not a ghost. Ave believed in this idea that the soul would be released into the universe once someone died. She thought that the soul would stick around to tie up loose ends. I don’t know. I have a feeling that she’s here to finish some unfinished business. Maybe it’s just wishful thinking.”

“No, that sounds like her. She’s probably bothered by the cases she left unresolved.” Paige joked, and he cracked a smile.

There was a lull in the conversation, and Ville sipped his tea. His mind was overwhelmed, as it had been for the past few weeks, by thoughts of Avery’s death and the circumstances surrounding the accident. He hadn’t had any peace of mind in quite some time, and his body had grown numb to the passing of the days. It was all a blur, a routine that he followed but not with any awareness of his actions. Everything he did was with empty motive.

“I…” he sighed and continued to explain, “I don’t know how people are supposed to move on from love, something that’s true and real. It’s something that lasts for eternity; it’s not a switch that you can turn off.”

“Some people can. You have to realize that people are disappointing. Those who thought that the switch was never on--they can. They can so easily move on.”

“What are you talking about?” he asked quizzically.

In that moment, she almost forgot about her misery and the series of events that had brought her here. At his question though, she was quickly reminded, and all her previous emotions came flooding back to her. Her teeth started chewing her bottom lip raw again, and her gaze shifted away from Ville and stared into a patch of empty space on the carpet. She took a deep breath to placate herself and clear the tears.

“Russell cheated on me.” she informed passively.

“Oh Lord. I-I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t apologize for him. You’re not the one who was nailing your secretary for the past two years.”

“He’s been doing this for two years?” he asked in disbelief.

“I think that’s what he said.” she said uncertainly. “I’m not sure; I couldn’t hear him over the crashes of the wedding china I threw at him. As you can understand, I didn’t care for the details of when, where or how this all started. My mind is... I’m so consumed by the mere idea that he would betray me like this.”

“How did you find out?”

“I caught them sending dirty pictures to each other. His phone was lying there, and I--I should have known better than to look. If I hadn’t fucking picked up that phone, I never would have seen the conversation, and right now, we’d probably be getting ready for Christmas or something. We definitely wouldn’t be… we wouldn’t be in the middle of a separation.”

“Would that have really helped, though? Letting it continue wouldn't have made anything better. You're better off without him trying to make a fool out of you.”

"I know, but you even said that love isn't like a light switch that you can turn on and off. Despite what I've learned about him--God, I sound pathetic--Even through all this, I, I still love him. I just can’t let go like he did. I wonder if he ever… if he ever loved me at all.”

“Of course, he did. You’ve been together for the longest time.”

“Maybe that’s the problem. Maybe things got boring for him and he wanted some excitement in his life. I…” she sighed. “I don’t know. I think he did every cliche thing you could possibly think of: cheating on me with his secretary, texting dirty pictures and whatever else they did. I don’t even want to imagine what else happened between the two of them. I think he almost wanted me to find out.”

“Why do you say that?”

“When I confronted him, he tried to deny it at first, but he knew it was useless. What logical explanation could he possibly come up with that would justify a twenty-something sending him naked photos? Once he realized that that wasn’t going to work, he had the audacity to try and tell me that he still loved me and that this thing with his secretary didn’t mean anything. Maybe he was sick of leading a double life and pretending to love me, and he didn’t care that I found out. I don’t get it; we’ve been together for almost fifteen years. Fifteen. Years. I don’t understand where I went wrong.”

“That’s terrible, but... it’s not your fault that he did this. It was ultimately his actions; he’s the one that should be feeling shitty.” Ville tried to console.

“Yeah, but I can’t help but think that maybe if I’d done something differently, I wouldn’t be in the middle of all this.” she scoffed.

"What did your parents say when you told them?"

"I haven't told them yet. I can't do it. I can’t face even my own family because this is God awfully embarrassing.”

“They’re your family. Of course they’re going to be there for you.” he reasoned.

“No. No, they’re not, actually. They were so in love with Russell. They thought he could do no wrong; well, except for the fact that he was with me. Everybody thought he was too good for me and way out of my league. I proved them wrong, and look where it got me.” she gestured to herself. “I’m sitting here crying over how badly he betrayed me when he’s out there probably still fucking that whore.”

“I didn’t think he was too good for you. Sure, I only met him at that office Christmas party a few years ago, but there wasn't anything about him to suggest that. He was lucky to have you.”

Paige gave a small smile. “Thanks. Still, I can’t go back there and tell them what happened, and I---I definitely couldn’t stay in my own house when he was everywhere. Wherever I looked, I could picture him doing things with that woman, and I couldn’t take it. It was disgusting. I’ve met this woman before, and I don’t understand how she could look me in the eye like she wasn’t screwing him behind my back. How could I be so oblivious to this? I thought I knew him. I thought… I thought he loved me.”

Her anger had turned into sadness at the thought. She didn’t even acknowledge the tears that slipped onto her cheeks as she continued her story. Ville couldn’t bear the sight, though; he set his teacup down and moved across the couch to pull Paige into a hug. He gently rubbed her back to help soothe her.

“I’m sorry. I won’t be here long. I would try for a hotel or something, but it’s holiday season and--” she said while remaining in his grasp.

“It’s okay. You can stay as long as you’d like.” he pulled away and cupped her face. “You’re gonna be okay.”

Paige looked back at him with sadness and betrayal in her eyes. It was something familiar for Ville; it was a feeling he’d been swarming in for weeks. Avery’s death had brought incomparable pain to him. He was filled with sorrow for losing the love of his life, but he also felt betrayed about her departure. She was supposed to be here for him. She was supposed to be here with him. For the past month, he’d been feeling worse than Paige felt right now. If he was still alive and getting through each day, she could, too. Although it felt like the world was swallowing her whole, he knew that she would soon be able to stand up and get through the days without ever having to think about Russell again. She was strong, and there was hope for her yet. Still, right in this particular moment, they felt the same way.

They looked into each other’s eyes and connected through their shortcomings. It was like someone had pulled the rug out from underneath them; they felt like they were falling into a bottomless pit because of the emptiness in their stomachs. Their expressions were so mirrored that it was like looking at a reflection. They knew. They knew what the other person felt when no one else in their lives had been able to understand. They were two lonely people in this world and were able to find empathy with each other. Paige caught her lip to prevent a sob from escaping, and Ville leaned his forehead against hers. They closed their eyes, and Ville let a few tears slip down his cheek. He couldn't help but cry; seeing Paige like this struck a nerve and he released all the emotions that were trapped within him.

As different as cheating and dying were, Ville and Paige were united by what these events represented. Love, as rewarding as it could be, was a vicious monster that had the power to rip away whomever you cherished as quickly as these people had entered your life. It was a nasty cycle wherein the more you loved, the more you had to lose. Paige and Ville were the same in that sense. They had loved and lost; no matter how precious the memories with loved ones were, it wasn't enough to patch the gaping void left by a partner's sudden departure. It felt unbearable.

Ville pulled her back into a hug and silently cried with her. The stormy weather outside thundered louder as water pelleted against the window. They sat on the couch, leaning against each other and releasing their frustrations through the tears. They both wanted things for themselves. Ville wanted to figure out the events of the night of the accident to provide him some comfort about his last interaction with Avery. He wanted to know what they had said to each other before she had passed.

Similarly, Paige wanted answers of her own; she wanted to know that there was nothing wrong with her. Her husband had cheated on her, and she needed something to happen to give her the peace of mind to know that his actions were motivated by his greed and selfishness. She was lonely without the support of her family, and she needed to know that someone still wanted her. I'm a good person, she tried to tell herself. I’m a good person capable of being loved.

Her sobs calmed as she realized who was in her arms: a viable answer to her questions. Ville could solve all of her worries right now and very easily. He could provide the proof she sought. She needed to know that she was still attractive and that she had provided Russell with everything she thought he wanted. She had done everything right, and he had still betrayed her; she needed confirmation that this wasn’t something she could control. She needed to know that it wasn’t about whether or she was attractive or poised or smart enough.

Paige started to clear Ville's tears with her kisses on his cheeks. Holding his face in her hands, she started with soft pecks near his eyelids, where most of the tears lay. They were slow and calculated movements, and she cautiously made her way down his face to stop in front his mouth. It was only for a moment as she thought about what was happening and what she was doing. Here was a man as broken and lonely as she was. Maybe they could help each other. Was that such a crazy idea? She didn’t think so. She wanted this. She wanted a means to free herself, and in her inhibited state, this seemed like a good idea. Paige pressed her lips to his. For a few seconds, their soft lips found comfort with each other in a form of human contact that neither person had had in a while.

However, he didn’t reciprocate the action; rather, he sat with his face still and limp. Ville waited for her, and his crying ceased. Realizing that he wasn’t returning the gesture, she unglued her mouth from his and waited for him to do something. She waited for some sign that he was okay with this, and she hoped that his initial reluctance was simply due to surprise that she had kissed him. She waited to see if he, too, wanted this. Ville opened his eyes and looked at her. She was patient, and her eyes stared through his looking for some clue, but she found none. Her tongue pressed against the inside of her mouth; she regretted her actions. She thought she had crossed the line.

“I’m sorry, I--” Paige started to say, but Ville interrupted.

His mouth latched onto hers to interrupt her apology, and he pressed her body against the arm of the couch behind her. It was the first interaction with someone in several weeks that hadn’t been mandatory. There had been polite conversations with strangers and phone calls with friends. Who could forget the therapy sessions? All of those instances were obligatory. No, this had been the first time he had any communication with a real person, and he wanted to do something for himself. He didn’t care that it was wrong, at least not now. It didn't cross his mind for a second that he may be making things worse for everybody involved. He wanted some sort of interaction to re-establish a sense of normalcy away from all the forced courtesies. Right now, that’s all he cared about. He’d deal with the repercussions later.

Ville’s body fit the contour of her form, and his tongue pulled her lips apart to explore the inside of her mouth. His hands rested at her neck as his tongue crawled through the small space and intertwined with hers. To his recollection, his last kiss with Avery had been months ago before he left for the tour, and this felt nothing like what a kiss was supposed to be. It wasn’t Avery. While he had established a sense of comfort when kissing his wife, it had never been boring; it never got old. Kissing Paige was different, but it wasn’t exciting. The movements were rehearsed; he knew his actions to be the appropriate ones--kiss here, brush hair back, move lips under her ear--but they were empty gestures. There was passion and a sense of urgency in the kiss, but not from any feelings he had for her, and it certainly didn’t quench his thirst. It was a change of pace from the banal lifestyle that he had settled into.

It continued for a few minutes, and Paige pulled herself into his lap to straddle him against the couch. Their mouths attacked the other hungrily as both people yearned for a real human connection. Before continuing any further, Ville needed one last confirmation. He pulled away momentarily but kept his face close, and their lips were still reaching for contact.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” he asked with his green eyes peering into her brown orbs.

It was a simple question with so many underlying insinuations: are you acting out of vengeance for Russell?; are you going to regret this tomorrow morning?; are you sure you want to do this with me, given how we know each other?

“Are you sure?” she countered.

Are you okay with being used?; are you sure you’re ready to do this with someone other than Avery?; are you going to regret this?

In response to her counter, Ville kissed her again vigorously, and she let out a soft moan of surprise at his force. Neither one answered the question because they themselves didn’t know the answer. It was very possible that Paige was acting out of vengeance, that she would regret it the next morning, or that she was uncomfortable with having sex with her ex-boss’ husband. She simply didn’t care to stop and face those facts because right now the pain was too strong. Her ego was bruised and the emotional cuts were open and bleeding freely; she wasn’t sure if she was pouring salt on the wounds but this was the only option she could see. In the same way, Ville may not have been ready to do this with someone other than Avery, and it was very likely that he would regret it the next morning. It was even possible that this act would plunge him further into the depths of the sorrow in which he was wallowing. Right now, Ville and Paige didn’t care for the ramifications of their actions.

They should have stopped to consider the consequences. Although they were both hurting, sleeping with each other was not going to be a permanent fix. Not only were there underlying issues at play that needed attention, but the existing relationship between the two of them should have been enough to put off the idea. After all, Paige was the assistant to the widower's wife; they knew each other from a professional capacity, and they were about to embark on a very personal relationship.

He grabbed her thighs and wrapped them around his hips to pick her up. Paige held onto him tightly as they continued to kiss. He led them towards the bedroom, tripping over the photo albums that were still laid out over the floor. Paige slightly slipped from his grasp, but he caught her, and they continued. They gripped each other tightly as Ville carried her; once inside the bedroom, he threw her onto the bed and she started removing her clothes and he removed his. There was no intimacy or affection; they didn’t try to be romantic and peel off each other’s clothes. No, they were in a hurry to be naked, and the adrenaline was coursing through their veins from the anticipation. Once Ville was stripped down to his boxers, he climbed on top of her.

Her head perked up when he neared her, and she tugged at his lips. Her hand stroked his member ever so slightly, but he pulled her wrist away and held it above her head. This wasn’t done out of passion for one another. This wasn’t done out of lust. It was nothing compared to the way Ville was when he made love to Avery. He was compassionate with her. He was careful and kind and sweet to her. It was a competition as he and Avery vied playfully for control. It was memorable as they took the time to savor every second they had together. At the core of the act, the motivation behind it all was simple: love. They were so in love with each other, and sex was but one of the possible expressions of that love. Paige was trying to make it that way, but it could never even compare to the level of closeness that Ville and Avery had established.

This was different.

He pushed into her, and she gasped aloud in surprise. As Ville was ramming himself into her, Paige enjoyed it and she let him be the dominant one. She let him take over. What they were doing wasn’t about the physical expression of love but rather one of loneliness. It was an attempt to release their emotions--the pain, the hurt, the sadness, the frustration, the anger, the betrayal, and the loss--and expel it from their hearts. It was rough sex, but not passionate sex. It was pained sex, but not painful sex.

Paige moaned and Ville continued, paying no mind to what she was feeling. Frankly, he didn’t care. This was all about him. He was using her as much as she thought she was using him. They were being selfish, taking advantage of the other’s broken soul to suit their own needs. The smile on his face grew wider with every push and pull inside her, and he held onto the headboard as he neared his climax so that he could maintain his grip. Paige could feel him coming and latched onto his back. Ville grabbed her lips with his mouth and kept her mind preoccupied as he gave a final push. Their labored breathing made it difficult to kiss, but they stayed connected nonetheless. Her breath quickened, and she moaned when he came inside her.

Ville let out an exhausted sigh and rolled off of her to catch his breath. They didn't exchange any pleasantries about the experience. Only their gasps of It filled the silence. After a few moments, he turned and placed a final chaste kiss upon her lips before leaving the room with his clothes in hand. He didn’t look back for a second glance at her sweaty naked body, her chest heaving up and down to catch her breath. He had been using her and now that he was done, Ville cast her aside. He didn’t care to know how she felt and if she wanted more.

He changed into his clothes in the living room and got an extra pillow and comforter from the closet in the hallway. He put them on the couch before returning to the living room floor to put away the photo albums that still lay out. The albums had scattered haphazardly since he had tripped on them earlier. Then, he had been negligent with the belongings as his head was in a different state of mind. However, now that he was finished, Ville was aware of his actions and was careful with the photo albums. These were important mementos that he couldn’t afford to ruin.

He closed the books one by one and created a stack to take to the cabinet. Thankfully, none of the pages were torn out, and it seemed as though all the pictures were still intact. He set the album that was in his hand onto the top of the stack and ran his hand over the leather binding. The last album on the ground was left open on a page with a picture of Avery right before she got her first (and only) tattoo. He reached over and pulled the album onto his lap so that he view the photo clearly. She was sitting in the tattoo chair looking at the camera with a scared expression on her face; she had been nervous about the pain even though the tattoo was quite small. Ville traced the skin where his matching tattoo lay.

"I'm sorry, Avery Louise." Ville whispered.

He touched her cheek in the picture and bit his lip. A lone tear slipped down his face, and he let it fall to the hardwood floor. After tracing the outline of her figure in the photograph, he closed the book and added it to the pile that he had created. There were about four to five albums, and he grabbed the full stack at once. He heaved because of the weight as he stood up; he took the books to the cabinet and set them in their appropriate places. Ville closed the cabinet door and laid down with the television remote to flip through the channels. Like most nights since the accident, it was unlikely that he would get any sleep tonight. While being with Paige had brought him a moment of solace, he would now have to carry the guilt of the actions, sinking him further into his sorrows.