harlot.

I didn’t plan for it to be this way. the screaming. the way her arms were flailing and her lips were sputtering out frantic insults and accusations. Her index finger slicing through the air.
The way his eyes dropped down, low to the ground, his eyelashes veiling the guilt circling his pupils.
He was always apologizing. To me, to her, to himself.
But to no one at all really.

I was feeling slightly woozy from the ambien I took earlier. I wanted to lie down on his plush bed and rock myself to sleep. There was no hope of that with all her profanities bouncing off the plaster.

He stood there in the middle of the living room, avoiding eye contact with either of us. She was inching closer and closer to him, her words a muddled combination of anger, guilt, and shame. Her face was red, burning, her eyes two glowing embers, and I thought, Lilith resurrected from dirt and filth come to take revenge on mankind.

Her serpent tongue lashing out, I can’t believe you could do this to me. I invested so much of my time into you. And for what? To find you cheating on me with some slut?

He manages to look up at her, his lips a thin white line.

I didn’t care too much about the slut remark. It just reminded me of the games we played in bed- me and him curled around each other, our hands searching and guiding, caressing and pinching, my nails digging deeper into the flesh on his back until fistfuls of my hair are wrapped around his fingers and he’s whispering wickedness into my ears, you’re my slut, aren’t you? Do you like being my slut?
I almost smiled at the thought of us naked and drenched in sweat and sex before I caught myself, remembering where I was at the moment, remembering who was standing there with her wide eyes and snapping jaw.