13Notes: Originally posted to PP awhile back but never posted here, I decided it was time to do so.
What I've Done
I don't know what I've done
Or if I like what I've begun
But something told me to run
And babe you know me it's all or none.
I am an instrument of war. I was trained to kill when told, to follow orders, and, in the end, be nothing more than a self operating machine gun. I have never killed for revenge or let my emotions take over my common sense, until tonight. Tonight changed everything. The man I killed deserved to die, there is no doubt in my mind about that fact, but this was the first time that it became personal. I wasn't told to kill him, killing him wasn't a mission with briefings and plans, it was about the pain in her eyes and the burning rage in my chest.
The rage still burns, barely under control as I stand under the hot, scorching spray of my shower. I've lost track of the amount of time I have been in the shower, the minutes have run together like a derailed train. My head sags as I rest my palms flat against the tile, staring down at my feet, the water raining down on my head.
Abruzzi is dead. I took care of it because I knew that the cops might never catch him, because I could catch him and because I wanted to be the one to kill him. He'd hurt her, marred her pale skin, but still it could have been worse—he'd done worse to other women. The thought makes me sick and my hands clench into tight fists against the tile. My eyes close and I breathe in deeply; this isn't like me, I don't lose control and stand under a shower head for an unknown amount of time, attempting to regain some semblance of my once tightly reigned in control.
I try not to focus on the pain in Stephanie's eyes, or what he would have done to her if she hadn't escaped, instead I focus on another side of her. I can still hear her, taste her, feel her around me. She'd chanted my name like a prayer while I moved inside of her, making her mine for just one night.
There were sounds in my head
Little voices whispering
That I should go and this should end
Oh and I found myself listening.
The small, throaty gasp she had made the first time I slid inside, her head tipped back in ecstasy, her throat pale and beautiful in the pale light coming through her curtained window, had nearly been my undoing. That one night was just supposed to be quenching my hunger for her, getting her out of my system so that we both could function normally, but now, when my control is already gone, regret stirs within me. I sent her back to the cop. I pushed her towards the arms of another man and now I regret it, deeply. I could have made her forget him with just one more night, but I chose not to. She's better off with him, he can love her more, can give her the things I can't.
Do I love her? I never considered it before now. I care about her; certainly, the urge to protect her is strong, and I just killed for her. Maybe I do love her, but… is there a difference between loving someone and being in love with them? Maybe I shouldn't dwell on the question too long, it would just lead to answers I don't want.
I take another breath and finally reach forward and turn off the water. My control is back, I no longer feel the urge to set fire to and mutilate the body of the man I just killed.
I step out of the shower and wrap the towel around my waist; I step in front of the mirror and it occurs to me that I don't recognize the man that reflects back to me in the mirror. When have I ever been hung up on a woman? Never. Since when have I ever contemplated love? The answer would again be never. She's the light in my dark tunnel, the light that makes me laugh in an otherwise dark world. She has changed my world more than I ever thought possible; she may not realize that she has, but I do realize.
"I'm fucked," I say to the unknown man in the mirror as his lips form the same words.
I close my eyes and the image of Abruzzi is gone, replaced instead by her smile, her laugh, her quick wit, comedic sarcasm, and the sight of her naked and orgasmic. I know that sleep will not come easily tonight, for a multitude of reasons.
And I won't be far from where you are if ever you should call
You mean more to me than anyone I ever loved at all.