Falling In Love With The Devil

in #story3 years ago



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The lover had been gone only a few hours with some friends from school before he was back in their bed, sinfully, stupidly ignorant of the danger he courted.

He kissed her, a heady combination of booze, cigarettes and something indefinably else before snuggling up to her neck for a long promised and ardently desired kiss. It was an untimely return that had sent her into a frenzy of conflicting emotions and once he left again she sank back onto the bed once more, idly wondering how on earth the kissing and stroking and feeling and fumbling she had done in the past few hours had seemed to last forever, but hadn't taken a particularly long time at all. The other man – that was the only problem, his friend, though her lover didn't have anything like the respect or acquaintance, or expectation, that the other man had – had a habit of being back unexpectedly, both sober and replaced with an equally awful girl who didn't want anything from him but a good time.

She knew what would happen. She had already planned for it. It was only a matter of waiting.

She had thought of this, the possibility of what would happen to her. Her fear was not of being found out by her husband or her lover, it was of being found out by the women around. Outside. She had seen them returning after being out on a Friday night, probably already drinking and laughing and planning for the next time they'd be out. They'd inevitably take their partners for granted, she had thought. Would they understand that what they had with their partners had a way of falling apart? She doubted it. She doubted that any of them would understand the love that she had for her man, even though she hadn't told him such.

Even if she did succumb to temptation and did nothing at all, something would have to be done. She would have to escape, return to the shadows, to give up her lover. The story would have to continue on another day, another time.

She knew his routine. She had lived it for a short time, the low pay, the long hours, the difficulties that made it impossible to have time off. She had been with him, a year ago, before she had discovered that she was pregnant. She knew what he was like, the way he would be reluctant to give up his working hours, the attention that someone, somewhere would be expecting from him. She knew his disposition the way she had never known before, not when she had been with him.

She would have to be ready to leave. She would have to be ready to leave everything, her home, her family, her friends. She would have to go far away, where he would never find her.

She was going. She told herself she would be gone already, not stopping to think how long it would actually take, but she let herself think of how good it would feel to be away. Gone.

She was so relieved that she would be away for far longer than she'd ever thought, that it wasn't even puzzling to her that she never did go.

She had come all this way for no reason. Right from the start she had known that she would never be this far from him. She had been ready to be away from him. She would never stop coming back to him. She could never be safe from him. She could never escape him.

She didn't know what he wanted. She wasn't even sure that he knew what he wanted.

At least she had tried, though. Even in this she could have pleased him. She had tried her hardest, but something, or someone, had commanded her to stop. The one who had told her to go had also told her not to go in the first place. She had never heard him, and she told herself that she never would.

She merely paused for a moment, a decision made for her. She had made her choices and they weren't open to question. She had all but given up the little fighting spirit she had had, but in the end she had only known despair. Everything made a difference.

The last thing that her lady at the venue had to say was that she had been a little rushed, a little anxious, that she hadn't really had a chance to say that she was looking forward to something else.

It was the last thing her lover had said that night.

She didn't tell him. She would never tell him that she was leaving.

It was the last thing she wanted to hear.

The last thing she wanted to hear was that he was leaving. She swore.

They hadn't said anything. Like the words that came afterwards, the good-byes felt empty and final. It was his fault, she thought.

She was relieved. He was gone. She hated him.

He was back. She hated that too.

He was back, this morning. She was glad that he was back. Because she couldn't decide.

She couldn't give up. She didn't want to give up.

She loved the devil. She loved him. It was all she could think of. It was all she would ever think of. It was more than she could think of. It was everything.

She couldn't give up. She wouldn't. She had to keep the promise.

She had tried. It wasn't enough. She hadn't done enough.

She tried again.

She didn't want to disappoint him. She didn't want to disappoint herself.

She knew what she had to do. She was only partly aware of hearing her voice, almost a whisper.

She walked back. She went back to him.

All she could think of was the devil, and the devil was just like her, loving her.

The devil had her. He wanted her.

She didn't have much. He didn't have anything.

She didn't love him. He didn't love her.

She shouldn't give up.

She didn't have much.

The devil didn't have anything.

He couldn't have had anything. He was only thinking about her.

She didn't have him.

She didn't have anything.

The devil loved her, and she was a lot.

He loved her a lot, and the devil was powerful.

He was powerful a lot.

The devil was powerful a lot.

She was powerful a lot.

It was everything.

She would never say goodbye.