IN NEED OF LOVE TODAY
An on going project that is a collection of short stories about a dark side of love. Below, you can find selected parts of two stories.
AVE
Red light switched to green. Her left foot automatically landed on the pedal and all the muscles in her body went into making that first move. It was so automatic.
A second later she was rushing down the bike lane.
She turned the key to open the door to her apartment. She didn’t remember how she had gotten there, but that was old news. Usually, she would phase out for hours during the day. She functioned on autopilot, existence of fulfilling tasks without ever thinking about them.
Standing at the window of her attic studio, she lit up a cigarette. No weed. She stopped that some time ago. She pressed the edge of the mug against her lips and swigged wine down her throat. She could feel the alcohol infesting her blood. She didn’t care. You could tell she didn't, she drank it from a huge mug.
In the moments like this she would come to her senses, as if that part of her buried deep inside was trying to fight its way out. The instinct of self-preservation. She would entertain her mind, let “it" almost crawl back out, bring back all the memories, all the hope for different life she had lost long ago and right when it was about to reach its freedom, she would hit it with the shovel and start covering with the soil. Another long sip from the mug.
Her bathroom was pristine clean. Just because she was dead inside, the soulless corpse, didn’t mean she had to live like an animal. She took quick steamy shower, cleaned the bathroom tiles to the last drop and walked to her bed. She lied down on her back. Minute after minute passed and she was just staring at the ceiling. It was perfectly white. No stains, nothing. She rolled to the side and opened the first drawer of the bedside table. Quiet humming noise filled room as she turned on the vibrator and pushed it inside of her.
She didn’t need the warmth of another human. After all, she has had more than a fair share of them today. One man after another entered her as she lied down on the uncomfortable bed of the brothel where she was making her living. None of them made her cum. They all came there just for their own satisfaction, to satiate their own lust. No one cared for her needs.
She felt it. She was just moments away from reaching an orgasm.
A second later she was rushing down the bike lane.
She turned the key to open the door to her apartment. She didn’t remember how she had gotten there, but that was old news. Usually, she would phase out for hours during the day. She functioned on autopilot, existence of fulfilling tasks without ever thinking about them.
Standing at the window of her attic studio, she lit up a cigarette. No weed. She stopped that some time ago. She pressed the edge of the mug against her lips and swigged wine down her throat. She could feel the alcohol infesting her blood. She didn’t care. You could tell she didn't, she drank it from a huge mug.
In the moments like this she would come to her senses, as if that part of her buried deep inside was trying to fight its way out. The instinct of self-preservation. She would entertain her mind, let “it" almost crawl back out, bring back all the memories, all the hope for different life she had lost long ago and right when it was about to reach its freedom, she would hit it with the shovel and start covering with the soil. Another long sip from the mug.
Her bathroom was pristine clean. Just because she was dead inside, the soulless corpse, didn’t mean she had to live like an animal. She took quick steamy shower, cleaned the bathroom tiles to the last drop and walked to her bed. She lied down on her back. Minute after minute passed and she was just staring at the ceiling. It was perfectly white. No stains, nothing. She rolled to the side and opened the first drawer of the bedside table. Quiet humming noise filled room as she turned on the vibrator and pushed it inside of her.
She didn’t need the warmth of another human. After all, she has had more than a fair share of them today. One man after another entered her as she lied down on the uncomfortable bed of the brothel where she was making her living. None of them made her cum. They all came there just for their own satisfaction, to satiate their own lust. No one cared for her needs.
She felt it. She was just moments away from reaching an orgasm.
Her name was Ave. She remembered how they met. Chick flicks style, joint by biology group project. Their love was beautiful. Absorbing. Passionate. Pure. She remembered their future kids’ names and their dream house dinning room chairs. She remembered nights of their soft skins rubbing as they made love.
She remembered the graduation and the pictures they took together, that kiss they had right before Ave killed her by saying that she had fallen in love with a man, that she would have with him everything they had planned together. She remembered the emptiness, the shortness of breath, that feeling of her heart being ripped out of her chest and crushed by the rock.
She remembered the confusion, the train coming into the underground station, the attempt to jump. She remembered seeing the nurse when she opened her eyes and the phrase of “You were lucky, someone saved you.”
She didn’t know who saved her, she didn’t want to know. She just wanted the pain to be gone. She wanted every single painkiller to numb the pain she was still feeling.
She wanted to understand what men have that she doesn’t. She has been trying to understand it every single time one of them entered her. She wanted her answers, it was her own biology project.
She did it. A wet stain on the bedsheet. She tossed the vibrator away and continued staring to the ceiling. She climaxed but felt as low as ever. It was one of a few instances when feelings flooded her. She cried herself to sleep that night. Just as every other night before this one and countless of them ahead.
She remembered the graduation and the pictures they took together, that kiss they had right before Ave killed her by saying that she had fallen in love with a man, that she would have with him everything they had planned together. She remembered the emptiness, the shortness of breath, that feeling of her heart being ripped out of her chest and crushed by the rock.
She remembered the confusion, the train coming into the underground station, the attempt to jump. She remembered seeing the nurse when she opened her eyes and the phrase of “You were lucky, someone saved you.”
She didn’t know who saved her, she didn’t want to know. She just wanted the pain to be gone. She wanted every single painkiller to numb the pain she was still feeling.
She wanted to understand what men have that she doesn’t. She has been trying to understand it every single time one of them entered her. She wanted her answers, it was her own biology project.
She did it. A wet stain on the bedsheet. She tossed the vibrator away and continued staring to the ceiling. She climaxed but felt as low as ever. It was one of a few instances when feelings flooded her. She cried herself to sleep that night. Just as every other night before this one and countless of them ahead.
GONZALO
A car honked at him and he instantly came to his senses. Stopping at the crossing of a busy street was just as stupid as it sounded but he did it totally subconsciously. The guy in the driver’s seat was gesturing violently. He saw his mouth opening, the veins on his throat, probably from the strain of yelling some obscene nicknames at him. Luckily, New York was always loud enough. He didn’t hear a word. He raised his hand waving at the angry driver to express apology and gratitude he didn’t ran him over and quickly jumped over the puddle to the sidewalk.
Standing among other pedestrians, away from danger of the cars, he stared in that direction again. It couldn’t have been him. Of course, it wasn’t him. He was on a boat trip somewhere in Southern Europe, thousands of miles away. He took couple deep breaths and then joined the flow of the crowd. It was like a train without a stop. If you wanted to get out, you had to make your way to side of the flow and then just quickly leave. God forbid you would’ve hesitated for a moment and stopped. People would’ve drifted you just like the river’s current. At least during the day. It wasn’t a place for people with social anxiety.
He was anxious. Always. That’s why he constantly carried his pills with him, just in case. He was also a strong believer that people can get used to anything and, once they do, they can survive in the situations they never thought they could. If he hadn’t been used to the rush, he would have never made it.
He left the crowd train, opened the door with a logo on it and ran up the stairs, only jumping on every other. The office was bright and modern with approximately fifteen of his coworkers walking around or just standing and talking. He passed by a couple of them, said hi, chitchatted for a brief moment and then finally landed on a brown leather chair behind his desk. He wasn’t in the mood to look at all the emails yet, so instead he decided to look out of the window behind him at least for a bit.
He remembered when he walked down that street for the first time. It wasn’t so busy back then. He was a fresh university graduate going for his first interview. He got it. He has been now working for the same PR Agency for five years. He knew he would get it back then. He manifested it. His parents paid for his law studies but he never liked it. He was not alpha enough to be a lawyer. And everyone always said the same, too — his classmates, his teachers, even his own father. He decided to leave courtrooms to the alphas and get himself a job in a sphere that was fascinating for him.
He loved his job. He was a part of the event team. It was a good pay but he didn’t care about the money. He loved throwing the parties. Ever since he was a kid, he made his mum throw him great parties for his birthdays. No surprises, though. He himself picked the cake and the colour of the balloons, the dress code. It used to drive him mad when some kids showed up not dressed properly just because they really liked what they were wearing. He still vividly remembers his eighth birthday party. The dress code was sailors but Rebecca had to come in a pink dress. Oh god, how he hated it. They never talked again after he took a blue marker and ruined her precious dress trying to make sailor blue lines on it. His mother scolded him like never before. She also had to pay for the new dress. She told him there would be no more parties for him but he knew that wasn’t true. She loved him too much.
A thought of his mother always made him want to grab his phone call her up. But then he always reminded himself that where his mother is now, she doesn’t have an access to a phone. He never deleted her number nor their conversations. When he felt lonely, he used to read parts of them to make him feel all that happiness again. He missed her so much but he knew there was nothing he could do...
Standing among other pedestrians, away from danger of the cars, he stared in that direction again. It couldn’t have been him. Of course, it wasn’t him. He was on a boat trip somewhere in Southern Europe, thousands of miles away. He took couple deep breaths and then joined the flow of the crowd. It was like a train without a stop. If you wanted to get out, you had to make your way to side of the flow and then just quickly leave. God forbid you would’ve hesitated for a moment and stopped. People would’ve drifted you just like the river’s current. At least during the day. It wasn’t a place for people with social anxiety.
He was anxious. Always. That’s why he constantly carried his pills with him, just in case. He was also a strong believer that people can get used to anything and, once they do, they can survive in the situations they never thought they could. If he hadn’t been used to the rush, he would have never made it.
He left the crowd train, opened the door with a logo on it and ran up the stairs, only jumping on every other. The office was bright and modern with approximately fifteen of his coworkers walking around or just standing and talking. He passed by a couple of them, said hi, chitchatted for a brief moment and then finally landed on a brown leather chair behind his desk. He wasn’t in the mood to look at all the emails yet, so instead he decided to look out of the window behind him at least for a bit.
He remembered when he walked down that street for the first time. It wasn’t so busy back then. He was a fresh university graduate going for his first interview. He got it. He has been now working for the same PR Agency for five years. He knew he would get it back then. He manifested it. His parents paid for his law studies but he never liked it. He was not alpha enough to be a lawyer. And everyone always said the same, too — his classmates, his teachers, even his own father. He decided to leave courtrooms to the alphas and get himself a job in a sphere that was fascinating for him.
He loved his job. He was a part of the event team. It was a good pay but he didn’t care about the money. He loved throwing the parties. Ever since he was a kid, he made his mum throw him great parties for his birthdays. No surprises, though. He himself picked the cake and the colour of the balloons, the dress code. It used to drive him mad when some kids showed up not dressed properly just because they really liked what they were wearing. He still vividly remembers his eighth birthday party. The dress code was sailors but Rebecca had to come in a pink dress. Oh god, how he hated it. They never talked again after he took a blue marker and ruined her precious dress trying to make sailor blue lines on it. His mother scolded him like never before. She also had to pay for the new dress. She told him there would be no more parties for him but he knew that wasn’t true. She loved him too much.
A thought of his mother always made him want to grab his phone call her up. But then he always reminded himself that where his mother is now, she doesn’t have an access to a phone. He never deleted her number nor their conversations. When he felt lonely, he used to read parts of them to make him feel all that happiness again. He missed her so much but he knew there was nothing he could do...
...He looked at entrance door to the apartment. He could hear the handle turning. The door opened and Gonzalo came in dressed casually but still so chic. He took off his jacket and hanged it, he left his shoes on a shelf and walked right towards him. Wide smile revealed the perfect set of teeth and his eyes squinted a little in the most loving way. He lied down on the couch next to him, looking him directly in the eyes. Then he kissed him. They made love. Passionate and romantic, Rough.
He opened his eyes. It was just him on a sofa. Him and another erection, but he didn’t care. No one could see him. He still looked around, just to make sure. His sight scanned the room full of furniture he got over the past two and half years. He used to like eclectic things, a lot of colours and strong energy. What an immature taste he used to have! Now the living room was so clean and spacious. Boring. No! Clean and spacious! Minimalistic, yes, that is the word he was looking for! Minimalistic! Lots of white and earthy tones, mid-century cabinets and simple decorations. Gonzalo would have loved how he had transformed the space. After all, Gonzalo’s biggest weakness in interiors was mid-century design.
He stood up and headed to the kitchen. He took out pan and a big pot. Tonight’s menu was gnocchi with mushrooms and arugula in pesto sauce with pine nuts. It took him just twenty minutes to make it. Becoming a true good housewife. If Gonzalo came home extremely hungry, he would make him exactly this dish.
He took out huge ceramic dining bowls. Off-white and glazed. He spent another ten minutes preparing the presentation of the dinner. First, he did his, just to see if his idea was going to work. Satisfied upon realising that in fact it did, he prepared a portion for Gonzalo, as well. He put extra effort. After all, he might post it on his Instagram later. He wouldn’t want people to think that Gonzalo was dating someone without good taste and strong visual presentation skills. He stood the bowls on the dinning table and lit up the candles to set up the mood. He returned to kitchen and came back with all the necessary cutlery and wine glasses. One more visit of kitchen to get the wine from the fridge and everything was prepared for the perfect romantic dinner. He sat down. Gonzalo would have loved this, he was sure of it. Dinner was delicious, there was no denying. Wine perfectly chill. He had two more glasses. Cleaning up the table wasn’t the most fun part but it was absolutely necessary. He wouldn’t want Gonzalo to think that he was a messy person. He scratched the leftovers into the trash and put everything into dishwasher. He grabbed his unfinished glass of wine and landed on the sofa. Chill music was being challenged by the noise the dishwasher made, but he didn’t mind. This would be that time of the day when Gonzalo would be telling him the most interesting stories. He would be so captivated, he wouldn’t have time to pay attention to his surroundings.
The alarm rang at six in the morning. Just as any other day. He used to be a night owl, but not anymore. He needed to look fit, so when people would see him with Gonzalo they would think they are a cute couple, not that it was some kind of charity on Gonzalo’s part. He got up and washed his face in cold water to help him wake up. There was absolutely no motivation in him to leave the apartment but he knew he had to. Dressed up in black shorts, blue hoodie and running shoes he locked the door of his apartment.He loved living in Brooklyn Heights. The leg muscles were getting sore from the morning shock as he ran into Brooklyn Bridge Park. It was his favourite place to run even though it meant running in circles. He did couple rounds and then headed back home. Shower, skincare, quick breakfast and coffee. He knew he had to leave soon, but he was facing a dilemma of what to wear...
He opened his eyes. It was just him on a sofa. Him and another erection, but he didn’t care. No one could see him. He still looked around, just to make sure. His sight scanned the room full of furniture he got over the past two and half years. He used to like eclectic things, a lot of colours and strong energy. What an immature taste he used to have! Now the living room was so clean and spacious. Boring. No! Clean and spacious! Minimalistic, yes, that is the word he was looking for! Minimalistic! Lots of white and earthy tones, mid-century cabinets and simple decorations. Gonzalo would have loved how he had transformed the space. After all, Gonzalo’s biggest weakness in interiors was mid-century design.
He stood up and headed to the kitchen. He took out pan and a big pot. Tonight’s menu was gnocchi with mushrooms and arugula in pesto sauce with pine nuts. It took him just twenty minutes to make it. Becoming a true good housewife. If Gonzalo came home extremely hungry, he would make him exactly this dish.
He took out huge ceramic dining bowls. Off-white and glazed. He spent another ten minutes preparing the presentation of the dinner. First, he did his, just to see if his idea was going to work. Satisfied upon realising that in fact it did, he prepared a portion for Gonzalo, as well. He put extra effort. After all, he might post it on his Instagram later. He wouldn’t want people to think that Gonzalo was dating someone without good taste and strong visual presentation skills. He stood the bowls on the dinning table and lit up the candles to set up the mood. He returned to kitchen and came back with all the necessary cutlery and wine glasses. One more visit of kitchen to get the wine from the fridge and everything was prepared for the perfect romantic dinner. He sat down. Gonzalo would have loved this, he was sure of it. Dinner was delicious, there was no denying. Wine perfectly chill. He had two more glasses. Cleaning up the table wasn’t the most fun part but it was absolutely necessary. He wouldn’t want Gonzalo to think that he was a messy person. He scratched the leftovers into the trash and put everything into dishwasher. He grabbed his unfinished glass of wine and landed on the sofa. Chill music was being challenged by the noise the dishwasher made, but he didn’t mind. This would be that time of the day when Gonzalo would be telling him the most interesting stories. He would be so captivated, he wouldn’t have time to pay attention to his surroundings.
The alarm rang at six in the morning. Just as any other day. He used to be a night owl, but not anymore. He needed to look fit, so when people would see him with Gonzalo they would think they are a cute couple, not that it was some kind of charity on Gonzalo’s part. He got up and washed his face in cold water to help him wake up. There was absolutely no motivation in him to leave the apartment but he knew he had to. Dressed up in black shorts, blue hoodie and running shoes he locked the door of his apartment.He loved living in Brooklyn Heights. The leg muscles were getting sore from the morning shock as he ran into Brooklyn Bridge Park. It was his favourite place to run even though it meant running in circles. He did couple rounds and then headed back home. Shower, skincare, quick breakfast and coffee. He knew he had to leave soon, but he was facing a dilemma of what to wear...