We Can Make Our Own Heaven

Don't cry. Don't cry. He hates it when you cry. Don't say it. Keep it in. You're going to ruin it

"Did it mean anything?" I ask, my bare small body withering in the cold. I try to snuggle up to him but he shoots me a look that stops me dead where I am. I pull myself into a ball and grope for the covers. I see them, littering the floor across the room, sulking from being kicked off so violently in our uncontrollable lust.

He puts his arms across his chest and looks up at the ceiling. I follow his glaze. The ceiling is covered in posters of all our favorite bands. I looked away quickly because I always felt like they were watching me, judging me.

I rest my eyes on him, his lean body glistening with sweat. I want to touch him. Not even perversely, just a simple touch of the cheek or a quickly little twirl of his hair in my fingers. I just want to feel him.

He finally cocks his head to the side to look at me. He looks unconcerned and almost bored. The look makes me quickly close my eyes but I force them open and am hit hard by tears. He groans and looks back up at the ceiling. "Don't cry." He says. I close my eyes and transform the words in my mind, I change his harsh, demanding tone into the sweet, almost pleading voice I remember. When I cried before he would pull me into his arms and lightly kiss every single tear on my face, running his hands up and down my back. Sometimes he'd cry with me, not much, but enough to make me want to stop so he could too. I open my eyes, comforted by my own imagination, to see him getting dressed.

"Y-you didn't answer me." I say sitting up and hugging a small gray pillow. "Did it mean anything?"

"I told you before." He says pulling his band T-shirt over his head, ruffling his already messy hair. I grip my fingernails into the pillow. Why must he always do that? Answer a question with an answer the makes no sense. Or maybe I'm just incredibly stupid...

"I still don't understand." I say pushing the cushion from my lap.

He scowls "Do I have to spell everything out for you?" I lean back on the headboard wishing I had a blanket. I feel my entire mind with that one simple thought in an attempt to shut out everything else. I find it is much easier to ignore some of the things in life for as long as possible. I think my time isup.

He crawls on to the bed and straddles my thin waist. His weight is falling into me, crushing my hips. I let out a small, dog-like whimper and the weight lightens up some. He leans forward, digging his elbows into my chest and whispers into my ear, "You know I have a girlfriend."

"But...I love you." I say shaking slightly, not from cold anymore, being under him has lit my body on fire.

He looks me right in the eyes "I know you do, but I can't be with you."

I can't take it anymore, I just can't. "You can't let your reputation die just because you're fucking some little boy?" I notice how awkwardly my snow-white completion blends in with his California tan.

"I'm not gay." he says breaking eye contact.

"Then how do you explain me?"

He looks at me with his patent bored look again, "Hormones."

I can't take this anymore. I let the tears start pouring again.

"Don't. There's nothing to cry about, babe." The pet name makes my voice catch and I try to stop crying. I don't want this to be hard for him but does it always have to be so hard for me? Do I always have bare the pain?

"There is."I choke out. "You don't love me." I know how stupid and immature I sound but I don't care. It's the truth. After all the time and love I give to him he still casts me aside. I have given myself to him mind, body, and soul countless times and have received nothing in return. No, that's a lie. He used to love me, he used to take me into his arms and just hold me for hours. Now every time he takes me into his arms it's to pull my clothing off the throw me onto our bed, well my bed now, I guess. He hasn't slept here in a while. He's spent most of the nights with his girlfriend, leaving me to drown in the emptiness of the huge king-size we share. I need him to function properly, and he knows this, but yet, he never seems to care.

He blows his intoxicating breath on my face in an attempt to push back the hair that had fallen into my eyes. His breath smells as wonderful as always, peppermint and cigarette smoke. He breaks down and causally flicks the locks back and kisses my forehead.

"You know the situation, Hun."

"I know I just..." I take a sharp jagged breath that stings my throat "I just want you...like before."

"Before was a different story. Before I had just graduated high school and could spend all day doing nothing but loving you. I'm in college now."

"I don't see how that matters." I say crossing my arms. I have always hated the fact that he decided to go to college, no matter how selfish that sounds, because it means I'm alone most of the day by myself in a big empty apartment. I don't go to school, I was home schooled since the third grade and finished early. Something I have come to regret now.

"It matters because I need to have a life. I need to actually go out there and be a college student. I can't be tied down." the words hit me hard and my stomach turned to ice. I turned my head and gag slightly. "These are supposed to be the best years of my life. I can't waste them with you."

I freeze and let a small combination of a whimper and a whine fall from my lips as I cover my face with a pillow and attempt to smother myself.

"Stop it" he says wrestling the pillow away from me. "I didn't mean that."

He pulls it out of my grip and the thickness of the air chokes me harshly. He turns his head and pats my back as I cough, seemingly disgusted with me.

"I'm wasting your time?" I say hoarsely.

"No..." He suddenly pulls up from me and sits on the side of the bed, looking towards the door. "I'm tired of explaining myself to you." he says sharply, cutting through the thin wall of strength I try to have. I don't think he wants me to be strong. I think he wants me to cry and beg for him to stay, like a little bitch. I think he's always wanted that, to be the strong one, the protector, and for me to be the weak little girl. Maybe he sees me as a girl. He always used to tell me how cute and pretty and gorgeous I am, but I never thought of it that way. Maybe he really isn't gay like he said, maybe just in his mind he sees me as a girl. I don't care. I'll be a girl for him. No matter how sick that is I'll do it.

"I'll do anything for you" I whisper. He turns to look at me, an expression of shock washing over his handsome features. I don't deserve him.

"I will," I say shakily getting on my knees and crawling towards him, "I'll do absolutely anything for you. All I want is you." I smile slightly at him. This is it. I've just said it. I've said what he wanted to hear. Now he'll stay. He'll stay with me forever and we can be happy like a Disney movie. He can be my prince and I can be his Cinderella.

"Why do you always have to make things so hard?" he says and stands up.

"I-I don't understand..." I say confused. This isn't supposed to happen!

"You always try to make me feel guilty..."

"I do not!" I cut him off. I don't care what he has to say. It's nothing good...I'm pretty sure of that.

"If you don't shut up." he says sharply and grabs me by my neck. I'm not scared. I'm not scared. If I keep telling myself I'm not then maybe it will come true. God, it's not supposed to be like this...

"I'm sorry."I mummer. His grip loosens up a bit, but he makes up for it by biting his stubby nails into my throat. I whimper and put my thin hands around his wrists "Just let me go."

"Why? What the hell should I let you go when I could kill you right now and be done with you? I could move on with my life and not have to worry about all the drama you bring."

I don't think he was fishing for an answer but I also think it's my only way out of his death grip "B-because somewhere, deep down...I know you love me. Even if it's only as a man would love his pet, you love me."

He looks and me with a look of guilt and hate. I've won. Suddenly his hold tightens to the point of suffocation and I grope blindly up his arm, desperate for release. I am his whore. I'm nothing but his whore.

He pulls me up to meet his face, hot red from anger, and hold me over the floor. My limbs dangle but my legs are not long enough to reach the floor. My vision becomes blurry but I try to look into his face. To make eye contact so he can see how much I'm begging for him to let me go. I feel as if I'm seconds room blacking out when I suddenly crumble to the dusty shag carpet. I glance up bearing a huge grin, only to let it slip from my face when I see his back and the sound of his footsteps bares down on me.

"Please...if you have to leave..." I say searching for the words. I don't want this to be our farewell but if it is, I want it to be one to be remembered. He stops but doesn't look at my pathetic mass littering our already unkempt floor. "I...I...did it mean anything? Did any of it mean anything?"

He glances at me from over his shoulder and sighs "No babe, it didn't mean a thing."