Defining Paranoia

Addiction

It was a long, rough day. He came back home worn out and fatigued yearning for the comfort of his bed and the warmth of his sheets. He wanted nothing more then to get under the covers and snooze until the sun shone up in the sky. As he entered his room, an alien, no, familiar scent engulfed his sense of smell. He breathed in what he could of it in hope of evoking a memory that might be engraved in his mind but to no avail. Nothing came up.

After shutting the door, he sat on his bed and took off his shoes and socks. He lay back and smiled as the events of the day unfolded right before his eyes like a filmstrip he had worked so hard to make. A smile spread across his face and he sat up again. He looked to his right, to the little note on the bed-stand and the dried up rose he wished he could throw away. The smile faded away and he stood up.

As he was lifting off his shirt, a pair of cold, soft hands covered his eyes. “Shhhhhhh .. Don’t turn around.” It was a feminine voice, a familiar voice he had heard many times before. His heart skipped a beat and sweat trailed down his face. He opened his mouth to speak but his throat dried up.

He felt a pair of hands on his shoulders turning him around. He opened his eyes and he was staring deep into her eyes. She gently placed her hand on his neck and pushed his head towards hers. Their lips touched for a moment then parted. He felt lightheaded and high. He couldn’t think or comprehend what was going on around him. Was this truly her in his room?

“Did you know it only takes small dose of a drug to get you addicted?” He wanted to speak, but she silenced him with another kiss. Her free hand gently traced his arm with the tips of her fingers. Her cold touch sent shivers down his spine. She pushed harder and kissed him more deeply, with more hunger. She griped his wrist, then let go and pulled away.

He looked at her. She wore a black sweater on black jeans. She wore the pair of red tennis shoes he had bought her for her birthday. Her hood covered most of her hair and the rest came out from the sides. Before he could devour anymore of her appearance, she pushed him down the bed and pinned him down with her knee. She took his shirt off and kissed him again, fiercer than before.

His hands uncovered her head. He ran his fingers through her hair. She parted his legs with hers and pushed up against his groin with her knee. She broke the kiss and stared deeply into his eyes. He tried to avoid her gaze, to control his breathing and speeding heart, but he couldn’t hide anything from her then and he certainly couldn’t now.

She leaned down and nibbled his earlobe. “Usually, when one recovers from an addiction, once presented with said addiction, one rejects it.” She moved down towards his neck and bit him. He gritted his teeth and tried to concentrate on the painful side of the process. He failed. “You haven’t recovered.”

She guided his hands towards her chest. “Can you feel my heart beating?” He only stared at her. He didn’t say a word. She moved his hands towards his chest. “Now compare it to how your heart is beating.” Her lips slowly curled up into a grin.

The pressure of her knee made it hard for him to breathe. He sweated more and she could see that. He saw that it was enjoyable for her. She liked seeing him this way. She got up and turned around. He sat up and rested his weight on his elbows. She turned her head around to see if he was staring. He was. She looked ahead again and slowly took of her sweater and threw it on the ground. She turned back to him. She pinned him on the bed, kissed him, and allowed him to touch her wherever he wished to touch. Then he took her.

They broke away from each other. He tried to catch his breath and she hers. He stared at the ceiling and no thought came to his mind. His heart beat went steady and he could breathe normally again. “After a dose of the drug a recovering addict was hooked on, said addict goes back to his old habits.” He turned to her. She was staring at the ceiling. She got up and searched for her clothes. “Then the addict realizes that his problem is much more serious than he thought it was.” She got dressed then went to his side. She stroked his hair and smiled at him. “You do realize that this means I win.” He closed his eyes and cursed himself.

When he opened them again she was no where in sight. He was fully dressed and the bed was untouched. There was no trace of a break in or a break out. He looked out in the hallway. Nothing. Out the window. Nothing. He ran down and out the door to the streets. Nothing. His head started to spin and his mind stopped finding logic in things. He went back in to his room and lay on his bed. He turned to his bed-stand. Only his alarm clock, mobile, wallet, and lamp were there. He closed his eyes and assured himself that what had happened was nothing but a dream. Then he opened his eyes again and shot up out of his bed.

The flower and the note were gone.

He sat back down on his bed and shook his head.

She won. I’m still a junkie…

posted by 5ada @ 12:35 AM