Chipped Black Nail Polish

Disclaimer: I don’t own them. Song owned by Taking Back Sunday.

A/N: Remember, it's switches viewpoints.

Chipped Black Nail Polish
Part Two: Do You Hate Me?

But I love the way you roll excuses off the tip of your tongue
As I slowly fall apart

Sometimes I wonder if you still love me. You don’t say it anymore. You never said it much, but I could tell. You’d look at me with eyes like Gerard’s watercolors. You’d smile at me, kiss me. Now when you kiss me it’s hard and forced and you’re pulling at my hair and you throw me onto the bed.

Nothing’s like it used to be. Now your eyes are like glass and it’s impossible to see beneath the surface. Your lips are chapped and rough and forceful. When you say anything to me it’s to accuse me or to demand something. You scream so loud. You slap me and your nails leave scratches of blood.

Sometimes I act happy in public, like I used to, just because. I know you’ll hit me for it when we get home. I know how hard the sex will hurt and how you’ll scream at me for acting like a slut. But it’s the only way! It’s the only way I can remember who I am.

Or, rather, who I was.

What changed? Why did we fall apart and why so quickly? We went to sleep, your arms tight around me. I woke up and you were screaming and shaking me and I started crying. You always hated it when I cry. You still do, but for different reasons.

Before you hated it because I was hurt. Now you hate it because . . . well, I don’t know exactly why. Is it because you feel guilty? Is it because you think I’m weak?

I don’t know. You never explain anything to me anymore. You don’t talk to me in a soft voice unless it’s one full of anger or a threat muttered under your breath in public. You don’t hold my hand or kiss my cheek or smile at me.

All I want is for you to love me. I’d do anything for you. If you’d just kiss me once in awhile or say something nice. If you could go through a day without making me hate myself for disappointing you.

I just want you to tell me what I’m doing wrong. Then I can fix it. Please let me fix it. Then things can go back to the way they used to be.

I’m smoking a cigarette and painting my nails when you wake up. I hear the floorboards creak and I wince instinctively. I hear you go into the kitchen. I started your coffee. Please don’t scream.

I put the cap back on the nail polish bottle and put out my cigarette as you come through the door. I’m blowing on my nails and staring at the door frame. I never look at your eyes unless we’re fucking and that’s only because you demand it. You take looking straight at you as a sign of defiance.

But I’m just terrified that one day your eyes will get darker and I’ll know . . . I’ll just know you’re lost to me forever.

“We have practice today.” I nod as you light a cigarette. “I put your clothes on the bed. You know the rules. Don’t speak unless you’re spoken to, quick answers, no flirting. You understand.”

“Yes.” I whisper.

You hesitate for a second and I chance a glance at you, almost eagerly. It’s not an angry hesitation. Are you . . . what are you going to do?

“Eat something before we go.” I look at my hands and continue to blow on my nails, trying not to let the tears form in my eyes. “You’re getting too thin.”

And all I can think about is that you noticed something. Something I didn’t do wrong.

You still love me.

~ ~ ~To Be Contined~ ~ ~

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