Chipped Black Nail Polish

Disclaimer: I don't own them. The song used throughout is property of Taking Back Sunday.

Chipped Black Nail Polish
Part One: I Broke You

Maybe I should hate you for this
Never really did ever quite get that far

I hate you. I wish I could say this to your face. I wish that I could see the shock in your eyes and the hands I know you'll reach out for me with, calloused fingertips begging me to take it back.

You're so pretty when you cry. Your eyelashes stick together from the moisture and your bottom lip trembles. You wring your hands, fingers with chipped black nail polish eventually wipe at your eyes. Then you break down. You fall to a chair, a couch, a counter top, the floor if nothing else is within falling distance. You sob like a child, head buried in your hands as you bring you knees to your chest.

Sometimes I hurt you just to see you cry. Sometimes I hurt you just for the sex.

The make up sex when you feel so incredibly guilty over what I did and you'll do anything I ask. You'll do anything to please me and you won't even complain when I pull out of you and get dressed to leave, your own need ignored by me.

I prefer words. I prefer saying things that make you cringe and make you cry, words that echo in your head continously for days. Calling you a fag, accusing you of cheating when I know you'd never, telling you that you look like a whore, telling you that you're worthless, threatening to leave you.

Rarely will I hit you, a stinging slap across the face that leaves your cheek red and your eyes wide.

And always you'll beg for my forgiveness for the imaginary sin I accuse you of.

I should feel guilty and sometimes I do. Sometimes I absolutely fucking hate myself for the pain I've caused you, for how terrified you are, for the way you jump at the floorboards creaking, for the way you're terrified to speak to anyone else for fear I'll hit you later because of it.

And that's why I hate you. Or, rather, that's why I wish I could hate you.

~ ~ ~To Be Contined~ ~ ~

It’s chaptered, so don’t worry…I know it’s short, but . . .