literature

I was only interested in keeping you safe

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Literature Text

Do you remember when we were fourteen, and you were in love with that girl's older brother? He was eighteen, the older man you'd always wanted, and he'd been courting you, or so you thought. You wanted him to kiss you, to hold your hand and show you what it meant to be a woman, not a girl. I told you to stay away from him, because I knew he'd already kissed my cousin, and she hated herself now, enough that she'd come to me crying and I had held her all night against the knives in the kitchen.

You thought I was jealous, that I wanted him too.

He was very beautiful. You talked about how hot he was, how strong and sexy his arms were. I talked about the dimple above his mouth and the echo of his cheekbones and the fine lines of his hands. I said I wanted to carve him open and discover the curves of his bones; you thought that meant I wanted to sleep with him, and tried to start a fight with me.

I didn't.

I wanted to kill him.
Something else true.

Asexuality, budding heterosexuality, and suicide. Or murder.

(Three girls; my cousin, my friend, and our other friend, the one with the older brother. He nearly tore the three of them apart, kissing both my cousin and my friend, trying to convince them to do more, poor Alex getting stuck in the middle. I told him that if he didn't leave them alone that I'd do something worse than anything he could think of. He left them alone.

He's still afraid of me.)
© 2011 - 2024 AndreaHarper
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