room 424

catefrances

she heard the key in the door and closed her eyes. she sensed him standing at the foot of the bed. she turned and looked him. he smiled expecting one in return, if only to acknowledge his presence. she turned away. she tried to get her mind to go elsewhere. she felt his weight on his side of the bed and heard the crinkle of something she never wanted to be a part of again. familiar noises. familiar feelings. she could feel the tears coming. she tried to ward them off. tried to go sleep. the sound of him wretching in the bathroom was more than she thought she could bare. the tears roll down her face. but she laid there while he went through his routine again. she rolled over to face him, but his back was toward her, hunched over. she reached out to touch him. he looked at her. this time she returned his smile. he asked if she wanted any. she said no, indignant that he'd even ask. it was time for her to sleep. she slept deep but when he touched her she moved into him. he wrapped his arm around her and she held it to her not wanting to let him go. his skin was so warm, they awoke on wet sheets. he slept with the window open, so quite often she woke up with a cold arse. she knew the chances of her losing him to another woman were nowhere near as high as the odds of losing him to something he said was like as a mother's kiss. he said it so matter of factly she understood. she understood a lot of what he told her. and if she was honest with herself she'd admit that she wanted to feel that comfort too.

restlesssoul

i really like that, thank you.

olderman

please continue

catefrances

she hears him talking. but he's not talking to her. he needs something and she can't give it to him. he looks elsewhere. she sighs and swings her legs off the bed, gathers her coat and wraps a scarf around her neck. he comes out of the bathroom and looks at her, giving her half a smile. she just stares at him. he asks what is wrong and she lies and says nothing. he throws himself on the bed and motions her to join him. she says she is going for a walk. he pleads with her to stay but she declines. she needs to be away from him at that moment. she can't be angry with him but she is tired. she asks him if he wants her to bring anything back. he says yes and tells her what he wants to eat. she reaches into her pocket to make sure she has enough money. she gives the notes a cursory count and shoves the ugly bills back where they came from. then her eyes are on the door and she starts towards it. but she stops. she looks at him lying on the bed, his arms casually folded behind his head. she goes to him. bending down she kisses his lips and leaves him alone.

AnnaMelinda

So.... covertly. So quiet... yet now that I see it. So clear. The first part. It's so well written. But made me sad. Kind of wish I hadn't re-read it... and hence REALLY read it.

Love to you.

AnnaMelinda

Drugs are a bitch when they pit reality against the user's focused life path.

....so says my best friend who was sitting right next to me and highjacked my computer.

xo

catefrances

coming out onto the street the cold hits her full force. she gasps and wraps the scarf tighter, pulling it over her mouth and ears. she should go back up to the room and get her beanie but she doesn't want to see him. she looks up and down the street and shoving her hands deeper into her coat pockets she heads off uptown. thoughts of him crowd her head. he makes her weak and she feels like a fool. she hates that she feels this way. that she enables him to make her feel this way. does she think she can change him? no that thought never entered her head. it wasn't up to her to change his behaviour or anyone else's. he was responsible for his own actions. but she did think her presence warranted at least some level of respect. now she sees she was wrong to expect even that. why could he not have waited for her before he decided to collapse in a big heap? why did he she have to see him this way? she knew it was easy for him to fall into old patterns. and she knew he would justify it anyway he felt he needed to. she loved being in this city. she was anonymous here. no chance of running into anyone she knew.and if she neevr said a word no one would know she didn't belong here. block after block and still he filled her head. she felt sick to her stomach and she couldn't tell if it was hunger or the anger she had for him right now.

prism

this is sad. :(

I remember just how awful those feelings were, even though it was a long time ago. this is a reminder of why i'll never again get involved with an addict

catefrances

he opened the door to her bleary eyed. he said nothing, returning to the bed and burying himself under the covers. the room was dark, the curtains closed tight. the air she found stiffling, filled with cigarette smoke and she hated it. it made her nauseous. he knew this cause she told him often enough. but still he chose to ignore her wishes to not be around the noxious air. He lit up with total disregard for her. she dropped his food on the bed and disappeared into the bathroom. she must have been in there longer than she anticipated cause he knocked on the door and asked if she was alright. sure she said, why wouldn’t she be? he let her be. as she stared at her reflection in the mirror, she heard him unwrap his food and the muffled voices on the television. he called her name. she threw some cold water on her face and went to him. he didn’t ask where she had been or what she had seen. he was so self involved, it made her too furious for words. she no longer felt hungry. she picked up a bottle of water from the bedside and drained it. when he spoke it was to justify his actions. she cut him short and told him she didn’t want to hear. but still he tried. she raised her voice and told him she couldn’t handle anything he had to say right now. he managed a smart arse comment she only half heard and then lit another cigarette. she made a noise and he told her to shut up, he didn’t want hear any of her self righteous bullshit. she was so close to completely losing it, she didn’t trust herself to stay in the same room as him. he just didn’t seem to be aware or even care how difficult it was for her to not just fall like he did. one of them had to be control. or so she thought. and it was very apparent to her that he was incapable of anything other than writing himself off and justifying it to himself and everyone around him. she looked at him and knew he used his weakness as an excuse.

catefrances

different day. same thing. a morning fuck to get the day started and then the rest of the day spent lying in bed in a darkened room. a long stretch of nothingness broken up by fucking when they felt like it. they drank in bed. he smoked in bed. he numbed himself with drugs and she watched and tried to still her mind. she loved the feel of crisp white sheets against her skin and the thought of him beside her. they'd been out to see a band the night before. the music soothed the savage beast. but when they came out of the venue the bitter cold bit them hard. she started walking back to the hotel while he jumped in a cab. he told her to get in she refused. he insisted she told him to fuck off she wanted to walk. he insisted one more time that she get in the god damn cab before both he and it disappeared down 7th avenue. he didnt get that she liked to walk even in this subzero cold. she pictured him waiting for her in the lobby of the hotel half asleep but seething fueled by alcohol cause the key to the room was in her pocket. she was so looking forward to draining the bottles of merlot that she knew were waiting for her. she thought about him as she walked. so preoccupied was she that she walked 4 blocks past the street she was staying on. she cursed her stupidity and turned around. she liked that out the front the little corner stores(some of which weren't actually on corners) under plastic tents(to ward off most of the cold) were masses of flowers for sale in buckets. when she got back to the hotel room she let herself in and found him sitting on the bed . he was angry with her. she was angry with him. but both of them knew it was just stupid stuff. though she was certain he thought she was more at fault than he was. she didnt particularly care whose fault it was. it happened. it was over and now all she wanted to do was drink for the purpose of getting drunk(was there any other reason?). and for that she had the perfect partner. so they drank. they fucked. they fell asleep and woke the next day to do it all over again.

brianlux

This feels so familiar. Stealing Michael Azzerads book title it feels like, "This Story Could be your Life."

Well done, Catefrances.