I was cold hearted at 21 years old. So many horrid things had been done to me in just over two decades that I didn’t want or need anyone. Needing people was a sign of weakness and I would be damned if I would show that. Never again would I open myself up to be hurt, not at anytime and not for anyone.
The walls I built around myself were high and solid and although a few tried, no one could get close to scaling them. My walls were not only on the outside though, I saved a little of the hatred I felt for humanity for myself. Even I could not get beyond the darkness in my head and I tried to fill the void left by that emptiness with fun and laughter but never love, not for myself and certainly not for the bastard world that had hurt me so horribly.
I surrounded myself with disposable people, people I could care for but who were shallow and self centered enough to not notice that I was not a whole person, who wouldn’t know that there was something missing in me. These people wouldn’t prod into my life too much and none of them had what it took to get close enough to me to make it hard for me to let them go. They were easy to use but I never did it maliciously. I did care for them but never enough to where any of them would have the power to hurt me.
Then I met her. She was beautiful, charismatic and she sucked me into her like a black whole. A black whole has no ill intent; it just is what it is. What she was I still don’t know. Sociopath, bi-polar, demon spawn from hell...names don’t really matter but I called her Mia. Like a thief sneaking up in the dark and leaving destruction behind, she hit me hard, took what little I had and left me cold, colder than I had ever been before.
I didn’t mean to fall for her; I enjoyed my life in spite of the shallowness I kept around me. There were a few people whom I loved to fuck and have fun with and I had my acquaintances to share the gory details of my partying with, I did not need a complication like Mia.
The first time I saw her she was leaning against a pool table, waiting her turn. Her short, spiky brown hair and piercing green eyes met mine from across the bar and for a moment I could feel her in my head. It scared me, the way she looked at me, as if she could see inside of me to a place even I was barred from. The darkness inside of me parted for her and she could see straight through to my bleeding heart that had never healed from the last cruel person to use me up and throw me away.
I left the bar and didn’t return. For weeks I sat home alone, the worst thing for a person who was running from themselves, but I would rather do that than face her and the fact that maybe someone could get inside. The thought of letting someone inside scared me beyond words.
Finally I drew up my pride, reinforced my walls and gave myself a giant helping of Dutch courage and went back. She stood by the doorway as if she were waiting on me even though I knew that couldn’t be true. I walked right past her and could feel her Irish eyes bore holes in my back. I think now, looking back, that ignoring her was the worst thing I could possibly have done. A person like her can smell fear and intimidation a mile away and will use it in whatever way they can.
She cornered me a few hours and several rounds later. I was barely standing by that point, my defenses were down and I was bullet proof so I had no fear. She walked up to me and whispered in my ear.
“I’m Mia. Who are you and why do I want you so bad?” Her words tickled my ear and I couldn’t stop myself from gasping. I have had entire rounds of sex that didn’t make my knees as weak as her breath on my neck.
“I’m Michelle and I don’t know,” I manage to say through a lust filled haze.
She took my hand and led me out of the bar, put me in her car and took me home. We didn’t have sex like I thought we would. We talked. We talked until I was sober. We talked until I had to go to work. We texted and called until I thought my boss was going to fire me, then she picked me up from work and we talked some more.
After a week she knew my life story. She knew about the molestations, the rapes, the drug abuse and any other bit of information I could recall. I loved her because she listened when I told stories, horrid things that most people turn away from. Soon I was hooked on her, if she had been a drug I would have happily overdosed, if she were a train I wouldn’t have bothered to dodge her. Mia broke me down and made herself my world. It was fairly easy to do once she got beyond my walls, I didn’t have much of me to hold onto.
Months went by and I did what I was told. We never had sex but anytime I appeared to be drifting away she dangled herself in front of me, touching me, kissing me until I willingly returned to the fold. I would have done anything for a little affection; she had my heart, my body and even my soul. If she had only asked I would have laid my life down for her.
I gave her every penny she asked for, bought her food, clothes and a car. We moved in together and slept in the same bed even though she denied me the one thing I truly craved, to be completely loved by her. I told her I would die without her and for some reason this made her sad.
When she first started disappearing I thought I had done something wrong, that there was something I could do to bring her back. I called, I begged and I even followed her around like a little lost puppy. Soon it became clear to me though that I had lost her. When she finally confronted me and told me to leave her alone I wailed, pleading with her to just tell me why. My world ended when she finally answered, her eyes the color and strength of emeralds.
“I wanted you and I got you. I own you now.” She looked down at me and looked sad for just a moment. “You no longer interest me; you gave me everything you had to give.”
A part of me died that night, lost in an ocean of pain that was love turned cold. My heart bled and my soul cried out to the Gods for mercy and forgiveness. I had broken my only rule; I had gambled and lost with the last piece of my heart.