I Want to be Loved By You
Awake
~Maci~
Pain. Hurt. Agony. Misery. Terror. Five everyday words one does not normally give a second thought about. They are only things people don't wish to feel. But in my life in this moment, that is all I know. My eyes don't cry anymore because they are tired from all the tears they have already shed. My heart does not beat regularly anymore because even the smallest touch speeds it up in fear. And my mind does not rest because it replays my utmost horrible nightmare.
At the time, I would've laughed, or scolded the person who sits in their misery. Because why wouldn't you want to work to get over it? Isn't it lonely, and miserable to sit in your hate and fear for so long? But I understand it now.
You become so obsessed, so...crazed with the knowledge you possess. And even though it haunts your sleep, all you can do is replay it in your head. You nit-pick every detail, trying to figure out what you did wrong to start the whole thing. And when you come up with nothing, you start all over again.
But in the rare times that I do get a peaceful sleep, I see blue. I see a blue that glimmers with laughter, and a blue that stirs with anger. The emotion in them change dramatically. And I sit there watching, as if it were a drive-in movie, as they scroll through different shades of blue displaying its emotion.
When I awake from the sleep, I don't know if it is better to get remain sleepless, or to go back to dreaming about blue. I am no fool, I know what it is that keeps me safe in slumber. It is not the calming ocean who's rapids could carry me far away, or the endless bright blue sky that stretches farther than I have ever gone. No, it is a certain playful rockstar with soft brown hair and skinny jeans, and absolutely no taste in dress shirts, tattoos that he will only ever know the meaning of, and a high pitched voice that I could not mistake with anyone else's. But otherwise known as the person who I believe to be an angel.
The very same person who I awoke to holding my hand. I did not remove it, though my skin crawled with tingles at the touch. Observing the man who occupied my dreams, I assumed that this was much awaited sleep. Dark bags were under his shut eyes, and with the lack of light in my room, I could not tell if he was in a chair or if he was simply staying planted on his knees.
Frowning, I shook him awake, being a tad insincere with the gesture. "Louis," I spoke. He still did not stir, and I scrunched my eyebrows in frustration. Removing my hand from his, so I can freely use both to shake his broad shoulders. Louis' thick hair was ruffled and scattered, and before I knew it my hands were stroking it, letting strands get caught in my fingers. He really needed a haircut, I observed. His wild mane was beginning to become a bit too wild.
Louis took this moment to wake, catching me playing with his locks. "Enjoying yourself?" He grins. I scoot back a little, embarrassed. My face heats up, and I silently thank the heavens for the darkness around us. When I did not answer, Louis continued. "How are you feeling?" His voice was undoubtedly worried like he had stricken a nerve, and he had.
My toes curled, and my nose flared from the memories that came with his words. "Struggling," I answer honestly. There is no point in lying, no one would believe me anyways. With the little lighting we have, I see Louis nod his head in understanding.
He grasps my hand in his, and brings it up to his face. This causes another round of nerves to erupt in me. What some would call "butterflies in my stomach" I would call "an entire fucking zoo stampeding through my body". Louis stops, sensing my unease, but slowly continues. I feel his smooth face beneath my fingers as he wanders it around, letting me feel him.
It is such a strange, yet intimate gesture. I'm unsure how to describe it, except that no man has ever allowed me to see him in this way. The way Louis releases my hand, and allows me to discover every inch of his beautiful face tells me that he is trying to reassure me. Like he is assuring me that he is real, and he is there with me. And that he wasn't going to leave.
My curious hands wander down to his lips, that I feel are smirking. I can tell that he has not shaved because a patch of stubble hovers just above his lips. Bashfully, I allow my hands to linger on his lips once more before collapsing onto the bed. The only sounds that are present are the even beeps from a monitor, and our breathing.
I busy myself by observing the damage done to my body. There are blue and black splotches everywhere, and dried blood beneath my fingernails. Alarmed, I throw the thin blanket off of me, wanting to see the rest of me.
"The lights, Louis." I order. I hear him jump up and flick the lights on. I'm instantly blinded at the light change and squint my eyes. With much struggle I swing my legs off of the bed, and prepare to stand. It is such a simple task, but I couldn't be more nervous. Wanting to take my time, I only sunk down farther so my bare feet touched the cold tile.
You can do this, Maci! I cheered. Standing up slowly, pain instantly greeted me, piercing every part of my body. I cried out, but forced myself to continue forward. Luckily there was a mirror on the wall across from the bed, so I slowly walked over. A worried Louis stalked behind me waiting for my fall. Much to my pleasure it does not come, and I successfully make it to the mirror.
Color drains from my face when I see myself. Blue, black, red. No sign of my actual skin color anywhere. There is a gash on the side of my forehead, looking like a highly irritated rash. Bruises varying in different colors surround my tired eyes, and a long slash scars my cheek. Flashes of the assault come to mind, and for a moment I forget Louis is there. I hastily lift the thin paper covering my naked body, exposing it, and see the side where I was brutally skewered with a knife. A massive chunk of skin has been torn out of me, and blue surrounds the sensitive skin. I want to cry, but nothing comes. Only a hatred burning so strong that my breathing increases tremendously. Seeing the amount of damage that has been done boils my blood.
I turn away, not wanting to see my ugly reflection anymore. Louis greets me with sympathetic eyes that are searching mine, trying to understand. He wonders what he can do for me, being sincere through and through. But truthfully, I'm unsure what I want. Do I want us to back to where we were - whatever it is that we were? Do I want him to lay with me, and whisper sweet things in my ear to get me through the night?
Louis takes it upon himself to scoop me up, careful not to injure me further, and places me on the bed. We stare at each other uncertainly. I don't want to trust him. I really don't. He's simply intoxicating, and I will never get enough. That's what scares me. Because he takes me to a place where reality disappears, and it's only us. So while we slowly make our way down the highway - theoretically -, life rushes past us. If you so much as step out of the invisible line separating the two worlds, you fall on your face. And I jumped out. He kept me from reality for so long that when I returned it hurt like hell.
I feel the bed dip slightly, and turn to see him. My nose brushes his cheek. Oh. I didn't realize he was that close..
Jumping away from him, I don't get far because his arms wrap around my small body, and tug me closer. His eyes bore into mine, and we sit there, talking to each with only our eyes. Memories of the night Louis took me to that hotel flash through my mind, and I remember how easy it is for us to communicate. Louis is able to interoperate even the smallest things I do, and I respect his rage.
Our moment is interrupted when a beautiful blonde who's golden hair shines in the dim lighting bursts through the door. Her silver eyes find its target immediately, but linger on me. She tears them away angrily, eyeing Louis with a firey glimmer.
Beside me, Louis sucks in a nervous and shocked breath, but does not move from my side. "Chloe," He calls to her. A grin forms on his face, welcoming the stunning woman. She smiles back at him smugly, while Harry, Liam, and Zayn rush in. They stop abruptly when they see our awkward situation.
They send looks of question, but I brush them off. I'm going to have fun with this situation, like Louis had fun messing with my heart again.
Pain. Hurt. Agony. Misery. Terror. Five everyday words one does not normally give a second thought about. They are only things people don't wish to feel. But in my life in this moment, that is all I know. My eyes don't cry anymore because they are tired from all the tears they have already shed. My heart does not beat regularly anymore because even the smallest touch speeds it up in fear. And my mind does not rest because it replays my utmost horrible nightmare.
At the time, I would've laughed, or scolded the person who sits in their misery. Because why wouldn't you want to work to get over it? Isn't it lonely, and miserable to sit in your hate and fear for so long? But I understand it now.
You become so obsessed, so...crazed with the knowledge you possess. And even though it haunts your sleep, all you can do is replay it in your head. You nit-pick every detail, trying to figure out what you did wrong to start the whole thing. And when you come up with nothing, you start all over again.
But in the rare times that I do get a peaceful sleep, I see blue. I see a blue that glimmers with laughter, and a blue that stirs with anger. The emotion in them change dramatically. And I sit there watching, as if it were a drive-in movie, as they scroll through different shades of blue displaying its emotion.
When I awake from the sleep, I don't know if it is better to get remain sleepless, or to go back to dreaming about blue. I am no fool, I know what it is that keeps me safe in slumber. It is not the calming ocean who's rapids could carry me far away, or the endless bright blue sky that stretches farther than I have ever gone. No, it is a certain playful rockstar with soft brown hair and skinny jeans, and absolutely no taste in dress shirts, tattoos that he will only ever know the meaning of, and a high pitched voice that I could not mistake with anyone else's. But otherwise known as the person who I believe to be an angel.
The very same person who I awoke to holding my hand. I did not remove it, though my skin crawled with tingles at the touch. Observing the man who occupied my dreams, I assumed that this was much awaited sleep. Dark bags were under his shut eyes, and with the lack of light in my room, I could not tell if he was in a chair or if he was simply staying planted on his knees.
Frowning, I shook him awake, being a tad insincere with the gesture. "Louis," I spoke. He still did not stir, and I scrunched my eyebrows in frustration. Removing my hand from his, so I can freely use both to shake his broad shoulders. Louis' thick hair was ruffled and scattered, and before I knew it my hands were stroking it, letting strands get caught in my fingers. He really needed a haircut, I observed. His wild mane was beginning to become a bit too wild.
Louis took this moment to wake, catching me playing with his locks. "Enjoying yourself?" He grins. I scoot back a little, embarrassed. My face heats up, and I silently thank the heavens for the darkness around us. When I did not answer, Louis continued. "How are you feeling?" His voice was undoubtedly worried like he had stricken a nerve, and he had.
My toes curled, and my nose flared from the memories that came with his words. "Struggling," I answer honestly. There is no point in lying, no one would believe me anyways. With the little lighting we have, I see Louis nod his head in understanding.
He grasps my hand in his, and brings it up to his face. This causes another round of nerves to erupt in me. What some would call "butterflies in my stomach" I would call "an entire fucking zoo stampeding through my body". Louis stops, sensing my unease, but slowly continues. I feel his smooth face beneath my fingers as he wanders it around, letting me feel him.
It is such a strange, yet intimate gesture. I'm unsure how to describe it, except that no man has ever allowed me to see him in this way. The way Louis releases my hand, and allows me to discover every inch of his beautiful face tells me that he is trying to reassure me. Like he is assuring me that he is real, and he is there with me. And that he wasn't going to leave.
My curious hands wander down to his lips, that I feel are smirking. I can tell that he has not shaved because a patch of stubble hovers just above his lips. Bashfully, I allow my hands to linger on his lips once more before collapsing onto the bed. The only sounds that are present are the even beeps from a monitor, and our breathing.
I busy myself by observing the damage done to my body. There are blue and black splotches everywhere, and dried blood beneath my fingernails. Alarmed, I throw the thin blanket off of me, wanting to see the rest of me.
"The lights, Louis." I order. I hear him jump up and flick the lights on. I'm instantly blinded at the light change and squint my eyes. With much struggle I swing my legs off of the bed, and prepare to stand. It is such a simple task, but I couldn't be more nervous. Wanting to take my time, I only sunk down farther so my bare feet touched the cold tile.
You can do this, Maci! I cheered. Standing up slowly, pain instantly greeted me, piercing every part of my body. I cried out, but forced myself to continue forward. Luckily there was a mirror on the wall across from the bed, so I slowly walked over. A worried Louis stalked behind me waiting for my fall. Much to my pleasure it does not come, and I successfully make it to the mirror.
Color drains from my face when I see myself. Blue, black, red. No sign of my actual skin color anywhere. There is a gash on the side of my forehead, looking like a highly irritated rash. Bruises varying in different colors surround my tired eyes, and a long slash scars my cheek. Flashes of the assault come to mind, and for a moment I forget Louis is there. I hastily lift the thin paper covering my naked body, exposing it, and see the side where I was brutally skewered with a knife. A massive chunk of skin has been torn out of me, and blue surrounds the sensitive skin. I want to cry, but nothing comes. Only a hatred burning so strong that my breathing increases tremendously. Seeing the amount of damage that has been done boils my blood.
I turn away, not wanting to see my ugly reflection anymore. Louis greets me with sympathetic eyes that are searching mine, trying to understand. He wonders what he can do for me, being sincere through and through. But truthfully, I'm unsure what I want. Do I want us to back to where we were - whatever it is that we were? Do I want him to lay with me, and whisper sweet things in my ear to get me through the night?
Louis takes it upon himself to scoop me up, careful not to injure me further, and places me on the bed. We stare at each other uncertainly. I don't want to trust him. I really don't. He's simply intoxicating, and I will never get enough. That's what scares me. Because he takes me to a place where reality disappears, and it's only us. So while we slowly make our way down the highway - theoretically -, life rushes past us. If you so much as step out of the invisible line separating the two worlds, you fall on your face. And I jumped out. He kept me from reality for so long that when I returned it hurt like hell.
I feel the bed dip slightly, and turn to see him. My nose brushes his cheek. Oh. I didn't realize he was that close..
Jumping away from him, I don't get far because his arms wrap around my small body, and tug me closer. His eyes bore into mine, and we sit there, talking to each with only our eyes. Memories of the night Louis took me to that hotel flash through my mind, and I remember how easy it is for us to communicate. Louis is able to interoperate even the smallest things I do, and I respect his rage.
Our moment is interrupted when a beautiful blonde who's golden hair shines in the dim lighting bursts through the door. Her silver eyes find its target immediately, but linger on me. She tears them away angrily, eyeing Louis with a firey glimmer.
Beside me, Louis sucks in a nervous and shocked breath, but does not move from my side. "Chloe," He calls to her. A grin forms on his face, welcoming the stunning woman. She smiles back at him smugly, while Harry, Liam, and Zayn rush in. They stop abruptly when they see our awkward situation.
They send looks of question, but I brush them off. I'm going to have fun with this situation, like Louis had fun messing with my heart again.
Notes
This is possibly the worst writing I've ever done, but I'm so tired! And the writing juices have not granted me an audience, so I'm screwed. But do expect a new chapter soon, I've already started writing. Ugh, and I'm just going to apologize in advance if updates don't happen as often. School is going to get crazy busy, and I will have almost no time :( but do not forget me! This story will continue. So keep checking, because I wouldn't stop writing if the sky fell."Wide Awake" by Katy Perry is the song for this chapter.
OMG ZAYN AND PERRIE ARE ENGAGED I'M SO HAPPY FOR THEM I REALLY HOPE IT WORKS OUT BECAUSE THEY ARE JUST A MATCH MADE IN HEAVEN AND I LOVE THEM SO MUCH TOGETHER.
Ok I'm done. Now I have some recommendations for stories, first it "Take It From Me" by my good friend, PickNandos. And then "Sinning" by...oof I can't remember. But it's about Harry Styles.
Thanks, lovelies!
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~M
@zaynisthebestest
Hopefully she's fine, she said she's having some fam probs again
1/14/14