[ WP ] You told them `` see you in hell ! '' You did n't expect you actually would .


 
 I kick around skulls and try to position myself out of her sightline. I scratch my arm but even though it doesn ’ t itch, my eyes dart around the infinite landscape of eternal pain, because holy fuck this is awkward. Does she see me? What ’ s she thinking right now? I wonder if she ’ s in pain? I should go comfort her. Shit, I need to stop being so obsessive over her, that ’ s what got me down here in the first place. I mean, how was I supposed to know that the Big G upstairs doesn ’ t believe in crimes of passion? Okay, stay calm. She ’ s no one to you now, you are over her, she is nothing more than an ex to you. It ’ s lonely down here, I don ’ t really know anyone else personally ’ and I have no interest in paling by the river of tortured souls and listening to Charlie ’ s shitty acoustic songs. Eternity is a long ass time. It ’ s only been twenty minutes and I ’ m already having a mental breakdown. I ’ m going to have to go say hi to her eventually, I can ’ t give her an infinitely everlasting cold shoulder. 
 
 
 I start to make the trek over, trying carefully to step over any slumbering demon children who might not take kindly to me interrupting their naps. Her hair was in a bun today, I loved the way it looked when she had it up like that. Her hair was full of volume, but it always seemed to take attention away from how flawless her facial structure was. Also, when she had her hair up or in a ponytail, it signified her doing shit. Painting, building, sketching, writing. Her ability to look so amazing while being perfectly focused on a task at hand is what made her beauty so different. She was skipping bones across the blood river, and I approached her perpendicularly. I wasn ’ t looking directly at her, but I could see the tiniest glimmer of her blue eyes. She looked like a golden retriever, but fuckable. 
 
 
 Before any greeting could stumble clumsily out of my mouth, she delivered a cold, “ Oh…. hey ”. But it was the kind of cold greeting where you could tell that she wanted to give a cold greeting so it really wasn ’ t a cold greeting at all. I knew her too well. I thought of all the things I could respond with, all the things she did after I tore apart any chance see had at having a happy life after she ended things with me. Guilt has always been a foreign emotion to me, but seeing her unhappy is something that I could never stomach. But I ’ m selfish. I wanted to be the one to give her pleasure, I wanted to be the image in her sub conscious that kept her smiling. All I could muster out was “ Heyooo… ” God, I ’ m such a fuckin dweeb. The façade that either of us wanted to have a conversation was quickly dropped, as we found ourselves stuck in equally intense glares. I could tell she was thinking. I could tell she had an intense flow of images and ideas streaming through her head, and God, how I ’ d give anything to crack open her skull and baptize myself in her thoughts. 
 
 
 I was so concerned with what was dancing around in her mind, that I failed to notice that we had been inching closer and closer together. When she leans in close to me, it looks simultaneously pure and sinister, she had a way of making me feel like every kiss was forbidden. I missed that. It ’ s that feeling that kept me coming back to her, and when she left, I could never find an apt replacement. The sides of her mouth curled like a Cheshire cat. I braced myself for pure bliss. The juxtaposition of the beauty and intimacy that I was about to experience and the suffering and misery surrounding us made her all the more intoxicating. 
 
 
 But her head changed course direction as our lips prepared for impact. That ’ s cool, a little bit a neck-play. A little aggressive, but I ’ m down with it. I began to kiss her neck gently, when I saw her hand jerk and felt a sharp pain in my neck. I couldn ’ t move my head, so my eyes crept down to see the fingernails on her left hand sharply implanted into my neck. She always had a soft voice, real gentle. Her dad used to say she could read the obituaries and still make everyone smile. This wasn ’ t that. Now, her voice was shaking. Furiously. I could feel the white-hot rage on her breath when she whispered to me, “ You disgust me. ” She released me from her grasp, but I wish she didn ’ t. I wish she would have kept her cuticles pressed into the sides of my throat. I wish she would have pressed harder. I wished she would have drew blood. I ’ m addicted to her attention. I don ’ t care if its hatred, love, or disappointment, I just need her in my existence. But, then again, this is Hell; and my eternal damnation starts and ends with her leaving. 

