author: lovestrawberries

I can't feel anymore. I stare at my hands, but they're dead. I throw them into the fire, letting the skin burn up and boil, the smells wafting up into the air. But I don't feel a thing. I can't feel the way the skin peels back and into itself, the way the blood starts to run up and boil in the coal of the fireplace.

You run out of the kitchen, alerted by the smell, and you yell. "Stop that! Fucking stop!" You yank my hands out of the fire and slap me, making my head snap to the side. "The fuck are you doing?! How many times do I have to tell you no to do that! Stupid fuck!" You slap me again, and I can't even feel that.

I see the tears in your eyes, and my heart wants to break. Your fingers clench into the already abused flesh of my palms, and those tears fall slowly and unheeded down your cheeks.

I turn my head so I won't have to see you cry, but you grab my chin and force my face back to yours. Your face is crimson in its anger, and your eyes are narrowed. "How many times? How many times do we have to go over this? You're not a fucking baby, Darien!"

I close my eyes, and you slap me again. "Look at me, damn you, look!"

I look back at you, slowly, and your lips crash down on mine, hungry and punishing. I kiss you back as best as I can, but it holds nothing for me now. I don't know how your lips feel, I don't know how you taste. I don't remember anymore, and I can't remind myself.

You pull away sobbing, and I hold you to me, my eyes looking over your shoulder.

I can't feel your skin on mine. I don't know that the rough denim of your jeans is rubbing against my bare legs. If I closed my eyes, all I'd fell was a dead weight in my arms, heavy and intrusive. So I have to keep my eyes open, to see your hair and your eyes, to see the way your fingers dig into my skin, because I don't know they're there.

"Do you love me, Darien?" Your voice is soft, and your tears have gone away.

"Yes." And I do. I love you more then this wretched life I live. I love you more then the once beautiful live I had, before the accident. Before I couldn't feel.

You pull back and stare into my eyes. "Do you really want to die, Darien? Could you really leave me alone to die here without you?"

I want to say yes, because I do. I want to die and give this up. I don't want to see you everyday struggling to make my life a life. I don't want to have to live like this. I don't want to see you anymore, because you remind me of all the things I had and want back.

"No. I won't leave you."

You slap me again, because you know I'm lying. You could hate me for this, just like I could hate you for it. But we're both pinned and nailed to this, holding onto each other while longing for other things.

This is love.

You shake your head at me and walk way, back to the kitchen. I don't watch you leave, but stare back into the fireplace, and I wish I could imagine how it would feel to burn up in it.