You 122

I had been doing well avoiding you. Putting you out of my thoughts. Resisting the urge to text you or to call to hear your voice. It's been so difficult. You were the best part of most of my days. But we're no good for each other. It starts out OK, but we end up fighting and hurting one another.

The other day, I confessed to a friend that I missed you. I missed your stupid voice. I missed talking and laughing and, yes, even the fighting. I missed you and I hated myself for it. Why was I so weak?

You must have heard me say your name on the wind, because two days later you texted me. You think I blocked your number - I probably should have blocked it, then we wouldn't be here - but I really only silenced it so I don't get notifications when you call or text. I can still see your messages if I go look for them and if you leave a voicemail, I can still listen to it.

You've texted me twice today. Not very nice texts, really. I can't say I'm surprised, though. I think you were testing to see if the messages would come through, to see if you could get an answer. I want to reply. I really do. Even just to be a brat and tell you to fuck off but I know we'd end up talking and we'd be right back where we always are - fighting, saying mean things, blaming each other.

I took a nap - a long nap, nearly 3 hours - after work and you appeared in my dream.

It started with me walking down the street and feeling like I was being followed. I kept looking over my shoulder, scanning trees, parked cars, driveways until I finally spotted you - that long dark hair and eyes giving you away.

You got closer and I tried to stay ahead of you, but I'm not very fast and you caught up to me easily. You grabbed my arm and spun me to face you, then roughly pushed me back against a parked car and glared at me. Your eyes... I always loved eyes... saw into the deepest parts of me. I miss those eyes.

I don't remember what we said to each other, but you dragged me along with you. I tried to resist, but part of me wanted to go, to see what would happen. We wound up at a strange house. There were people everywhere and you forced your way through the crowd, leading me to a darkened room with a mattress on the floor.

You shoved me down on the mattress and knelt over me, your face so close to mine I could smell your last cigarette. Then you kissed me. That was a surprise. I don't kiss in real life. But in this dream scene, you kissed me and we made out like teenagers. You slid your fingers into my hair and wrapped it around your fist. You know that having my hair played with is my weakness. When you tightened your fist, tugging my hair, I whimpered and bit your lip just hard enough to pull a moan from you, making me smirk.

You pushed me down on my back and pinned my wrists to the mattress, glaring at me, your lips parted. You forced my legs apart with your knee and settled your weight on top of me between my legs. Then you started kissing my neck, your hips grinding against me as you held my wrists above my head. I could feel your hardness through our clothing as you snarled in my ear that you were going to make me take every inch of your cock, that you'd force me to orgasm until I passed out.

I struggled beneath your weight but you were too strong and held me perfectly in place. I heard your devilish chuckle as you watched me thrash, my breathing ragged, a mix of fear and desire - that I would never admit to - in my eyes. You licked the single tear that escaped down my cheek and then you nipped my earlobe and growled, your breath hot against my skin, "you're mine."

And that's when I woke up.

I hate how much I miss you and how I let you have that power over me. I don't know how to make you go away, to be free from you.