Someone's Everything

When I walk into the bathroom he is already in there and it takes me a moment to register what he is doing, and even when I do I cannot move, only watch as he painstakingly draws the razor blade down his left wrist and forearm - not much blood at first - and he draws it through again his face a mask of perfect concentration, the only thing he can control anymore is this, and then the blood appears in a perfect line and he gives a little strange happy sob and brings the blade through a third time roughly, quickly, and now the blood begins to pour, dripping down his arm and I want to vomit because the look of relief and accomplishment on his face is so great.

He sinks down against the wall to watch the red dribble down his arm and onto the floor, pooling, and then he looks up at me and there is a flash of fear in his eyes, then the light in them goes out and I swear at him and he does not look up, so I kneel beside him and press a towel against his wrist and I do not know what to do or say because we have not spoken for so long and I only want to tell him what he needs to hear but I do not know what that is and he sits in silence as I wipe off the blood and then without thinking or knowing and without warning I raise his hand to my mouth and kiss it.

His head snaps towards me like it is mechanized and his eyes are wide and staring and then the hand I am holding is pulled back and strikes me hard across the face, and my breath is twisted from me as my eye waters and cheek stings, and I taste blood in my mouth, but inside I am reveling at the pain because I have made him feel something, even though it is anger, he has a feeling towards me - not you for once - I have made him notice me and as he leaves the bathroom and walks down the hall, I follow him and jump blindly on his back, and surprised he crumples underneath me, and then I am being hit, slapped, bitten, scratched, and he is fighting like a desperate caged creature and I fight back and revel in the look of hatredangerdesperation on his face.

A red welt appears on his cheek and I realize that it is from me and for a moment I am scared, terrified and realize I do not know what I am doing and what is happening, but then I do not care because I am touching him for the first time in months and he is touching me, and then we roll too close to the stairs and we fall down from whatever we sanity we had, we fall down to where desperation had brought us, we have fallen so low, and when we hit the bottom and are flung apart he lies on the floor like a broken doll, like a dead thing and he is bleeding from places I don't remember going near, and then he sobs a small sob, and his shoulders shake, and he curls up as small as he can make himself.

I move to him and he looks at me and then with no weapon remaining, with nothing to depend on, with all safety devices gone, he relies on the only thing he has left, and grabs my hair roughly, pulls me down to him, and kisses me.

It is not the soft warmth of that intoxicated night, but a hard, hot, burning kiss and the inside of his mouth tastes like blood, or maybe it is my mouth, but I do not care and I pull him closer to me, holding his body with shaking hands and his fingernails rake down my back and twist in my hair and our teeth make noisy contact, but I do not care about technique, I need to possess him, but he is fighting back and I am burning up, and he whimpers as I bite down on his lip and then his mouth leaves mine and moves to my neck, and he is biting, sucking, and it hurts and my fingers dig into his shoulders, and then he kisses me once more on the lips, biting gently, and we lie there entangled, breathing hard, sweaty, bloody and my hand is tracing patterns on his back, but he flinches away from the touch and I know that I am not his everything, and I am not even his something, but I am the one holding him on the cold floor and you are not.