Thrust Into His Arms

I recall my earliest literature classes where the teacher would ask us to write about our most thrilling life experiences. I would put down my pen and stare directly at the teacher while others were writing.

It was not entirely because I wanted to spite the teacher that I did that.

I’m just not into long writing. I like subjects that have to do with math and calculations. Anything aside from that is out of the books for me. But since they’re all important I make other students write my notes and assignments on essay subjects.

Now I don’t know where to start.

The words are in my brain but they are too scattered. "Come on!" I chided myself to let it out. I take the pen again to write down the only clear, precise thing in my mind. ’I am sorry, Gweneth.’

Can I just leave it like this?

No it’s way too short. There is no sincerity in it.

Maybe I should pretend as if she is here. I will write it as if I’m talking to her. It doesn’t have to be perfect.

I should do it that way. I get the pen again and start writing, putting it down just the way it is in my head.

"You are in my mind right now as I am writing this." I started.

"You’re crying with tears running down your face and you are too broken to even shout to curse me and hit me. That is just in my mind because I know that it would be very different in reality.

I would not try to escape whatever you intend to do when you see me because I know that I deserve it. But then you would not give a moment to listen to what I have to say. You would have no reason to and for that I cannot blame you, but I really need you to hear me out.

Please.

Bad feels so good and fun to me. I would do bad things and feel good about it.

When my victims would ask why I was bullying them, I would say because it is fun, and truly it was. . . until you.

I have done so many bad and fucked-up things in my life. Many of which you can consider evil. I know very well what I was doing to you, but I didn’t stop.

I had felt like you very much deserved it for standing against me and calling me out on my bad actions which was a big first to me because no one has ever done that. They either support it or say nothing. I loved seeing you helplessly cry and beg, just like my previous victims. But then you became different. Like a sore finger out of all the others.

That day when you had confronted me and cried about your locker, I felt shitty as hell. Your cries that day, I can still remember them.

I thought I hated seeing you smile and preferred it when you cried because that one was for me and not for someone else. That must have been when it started.

When I started to fall for you.

I would always be mad for no reason when you were with Rex. Making myself believe that it is because you are not in his league and that you two do not fit together. But that was a lie I was telling myself.

It was actually because I wanted to be the one instead of him.

I had no right to be jealous, but I was. I wanted you all to myself and was ready to do whatever and I did do it. You probably already know that it was me who brought up the idea of the bet. Rex did not want to do it. He only agreed to prevent me from uploading those photos of yours that I got from Courtney. And I exploited that opportunity by sabotaging his car engine to make him lose the race. I have felt lust and desire a number of times. Yours was different and for a while, I did not know why. When I knew I wish I did not.

I kept telling myself that it would go away but every time I saw you, I felt tortured. Wanting you the way that I did and knowing you would never feel the same way I. . . . .

I never should have been attracted to you.

I am sorry for treating you so badly. I am sorry for putting the blame on you that night when I should have just owned up to everything and apologized like you said even though it would not solve anything. I won’t ask to you forgive because again, I do not deserve it. But just please, I’m asking—no begging you to give me a chance to make up for all of it. Please Gweneth. Don’t freak out, but I am in the room next to yours right now. Yes, I tracked you down and followed you to this place.

That is how much I am sorry. I will be waiting. I need you to tell me what to do to atone for this.

I am ready to do whatever you want me to.

I wrote my name on the bottom and tore out the paper, folding it.

Just then I hear someone laughing. I pause realizing that it is coming from Gweneth’s room. I move closer to the wall to better hear her. She has stopped laughing now and is speaking to someone on the phone. "Yeah, I cannot believe it myself. I never knew that it was so good." She says.

"I was sleeping like a corpse and only woke up because of your call instead of a nightmare. You have no idea how amazing it is. It’s a first since I came here. Do you know that?" She starts laughing again.

I noted how it sounds forced—almost self—mocking. It is not one resulting from real humor.