DM IV

She could feel her eyes swelling, could almost imagine looking in the mirror, and seeing them red and puffy. She could taste the alkaline, salty tears on her tongue, and feel the thick mucus in her nose. The wind calmed down. Outside, the noises were starting to settle, it was starting to get late.

He had always been noticed, but he made her feel invisible. Like she was his shadow. She knew she chased him, she knew she loved him more. But he was worth it. But he made her feel terrible, especially after sex. Not during, especially not at the end. Right after they were done, his eyes would light up with a glow, as he released into her, she would gasp and moan as she felt his seed in her. He would look at her with affection and love, and a brief smile on his lips. She would yearn to kiss them. But the first time she had done, he had yanked her head away by her hair, away from his face, gotten off the bed, and started to dress. So she did not anymore.

It was the first one. That black dwarf. Or was it the second. Fat, ugly Ursula. She knew about all of them. They all tried to seduce him. He was just confused. He didn’t know what he wanted. It was okay, she knew what she wanted. She wanted him. She knew what he wanted. He wanted her. She would try to shield him, but those churails were conniving. They would seduce him with kohl lined eyes, and with more skin than clothes. And he would fall prey to their temptations, and he would get confused.

And he would treat her badly. Would swear at her. Would tell her that she was not pure enough for him, that she had had sex, and that he was religious. He would deny to his friends that they were even dating, and those idiots would believe him. That last bit hurt. All of it hurt. But with the swearing and the purity, she knew that he was just confused. Or was he? Or was she? But with the last, it made her feel like he was ashamed of her. And that hurt.

She felt hollow inside. Another group stumbled in, drunk, loud, obnoxious, they walked into the courtyard. Three girls, two boys, by their sounds, one of the girls tried to talk to her. She kept her head in her hands, and a boy pulled his friend away. They stumbled away, tripping, laughing, cackling, slurring. Smelling of alcohol.

He had hated that she had drank. She had stopped. His friends drank too, but they were not dating him. He had hated that she went out. She had stopped going out. His friends went out too. He went out with them. She felt nervous every time he did. What if he met a skimpily dressed whore and had sex with her. The sex, she was not okay with, but she was even less okay with him having feelings for any of them. He was just a confused boy. Her boy. Her man. The love of her life. She felt nervous. He never reassured her, not anymore.