The Story Continues . . .

 If you missed the first installment of this story click HERE to get started!

And I just wanted to say a big thank you to all who commented on my Toby post.  As always your support and kind words mean so much to me.  xo

Now lets get back to Sophia . . . 

“Come here my sweetness. . .”  I hear him say in a demanding yet gentle sexy tone. 

I feel him grab my hand by the fingertips.  He gently places them up on his shoulder.  His other arm wraps around my waist and I collapse into his strong chest.  I can almost feel his heart beating through his white t-shirt.  The shirt feels soft and smells musky.

Michael gives me a tight squeeze and I tilt my head just enough to rest my cheek in the nook.  You know, that place just below the clavicle and on top of a pillowy pec muscle.  His cheek leans in to rest on my forehead.  It feels so good.  It feels like home. 

All of a sudden I feel like someone has sucked the oxygen out of my body.  That nice chill is gone and a pounding in my head is starting.  As I reach up to rub my temples willing the pain away I notice the dark green big lawn and leaf bag crumpled up in the corner of the closet.  Its been five years already.  I wonder why I am holding on to it.  The clock is ticking.  Literally.  I didn’t even realize that 15 minutes have gone by and I still haven’t found my damn boots. 


 I just can’t resist.  I guess I like to torture myself.  As if this day won’t be stressful enough. I creep along the carpet towards the bag.  My knees are beginning to hurt.  I can almost feel the bruises forming.  I am sure my knee caps will look all yellowish green and brown in no time. 

 I inhale another dust bunny on the way.  I feel my stomach tying itself in knots.  I see glistening sweat begin to form in droplets on my palms.  Acid is forming in my throat.  I feel it sting as it rises up hitting the back of my tongue in a frenzy.  One big gulp and its on its way back down.  I reach up and grab my chest, rubbing it as if that will make the pain disappear.  As I continue to quell the heart attack I am sure is starting  I reach my ice cold fingertips over to the right side of the closet. 

After all this time the bag feels crunchy.  I take my thumb and push it through the plastictill it makes a print, stretches it to a creamy green color, and finally punctures a hole.  With my other hand I rip it apart.  I can't help but wonder if I am just a glutton for punishment.  

My heart is racing and I can feel the tears well up in my eyes.  There is just no sense in a futile attempt to hold them back.  It’s a wonder I resisted this long.  I reach in and pull out the sleeve of Michael’s leather jacket. Air gets caught up in my throat when I see the splatters of blood decorating the white accents of its carbon black sleeve.

to be continued . . .