Tell A Tale — Gothic Fiction

Addictions By Elise Cox

I lay on my back, my empty eyes boring holes into the ceiling. Blake’s thick, muscular arm weighed on my stomach… Holding me close to him, as if I were a possession he was scared of losing.



The night’s events replayed in my chaotic mind, while I drowned in despair with every breath of his that scraped against my cheek bitterly.

The vivid images still as real as they were an hour ago when it happened.



Blake’s cold, grey eyes- calculating and deceptive- watched me from the top of the stairs while I writhed in pain at the bottom. Hot tears spilled down my bruising cheek and eye, I shuffled backwards planting my back against the wall.

Marching down the stairs Blake crouched down in front of me, I remembered how authority had oozed out of him, he swept a strand of hair off the bruised side of my face and swiped his hand over my forehead- which came back bloody.



“Bella,” he frowned with what seemed to be either concern or aggravation. As if it were my fault I bruised by his hand.



“Look. At. Me!” His unchecked rage overspilling causing him to grab a fistful of my messy blonde hair.

Slowly I raised my eyes and his stance softened.



“I just… don't want you to ever leave me.

Sometimes my anger gets the better of me. I’m sorry.

You know I don't mean it,” he buried his head into my neck



As usual he told me he’d change, control his anger better. But the only thing he ever tried to control was me.



I thought back to the day we met. His smile had a certain glow which his eyes responded to by filling with warmth. His laughter could've melted a thousand hearts.

What happened?



At times I catch him wondering to the surface; but he leaves just as soon as he arrives. Shoved to the darkest corner of Blake’s mind- where he's caged and tormented by the ghosts that his other angry, seemingly dominant self has created.



This is not love, I understand that.

This is somewhat an addiction.



And like all addictions. I cannot stop despite the attempts of those surrounding me.

They don't want me to be in pain. But I fear withdrawal will hurt more.



And like all addictions. One day my love of something dangerous will be the death of me.


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