Winter Wednesday: Ghosts…

BeastlyUrges_ARELet’s be honest. You aren’t here to talk to me. You’re here to talk to them. I am simply the vessel they use to manifest themselves and make you all giggle when they say inappropriate things. Therefore, I shall not keep you away. Go, go. Enjoy your snippet.




Excerpt from “Beastly Urges”: 

“Some things simply aren’t worth the effort to you, are they, Kissa?”

“You told me to go. Said that you wouldn’t be waiting whenever I decided to return.”

“Because you were on a suicide mission,” he reminded her. “Or did you forget that you admitted you wanted to die?”

“I never said those words.”

“What the fuck does it matter?” Naresh scoffed. “The message was blaring.” A hand curled around her forearm, jerking her into facing him again as he glared down at her. “What was I supposed to do?”

She glared back, gritting, “Trust me. You were supposed to trust me.”

“The way you trusted me?” he demanded. “You ran. You ran and you hid away from the rest of the world because—”

“—I’m damaged,” she completed for him.

Shame took the harshness from his face, made him drop his hand as though she burned him. “Kissa—”

“Your words. Yours.” She swallowed, pushing down the urge to scream. “I’m damaged.” Lifting her hands, she asked, “Who wants a damaged thing?”

He closed his eyes and whispered, “That was a cruel thing to say to you.”

“But you believed it at the time.” Kissa wrapped her arms about herself, suddenly cold. “I looked at you and told you that I needed to be away from a place that was haunting me, that still haunts me. Your answer was to alienate me. I may have run, Naresh, but you couldn’t be accused of following.” Her stare latched onto his own. “You didn’t fight either. You didn’t come for me. The moment I stepped outside, I wasn’t yours anymore.” Kissa’s eyes burned. She shoved away from him quietly repeating, “I wasn’t yours.”

She got all of ten feet when he yelled, “You haunted me!”

Again, she stopped, but didn’t face him.

“I destroyed every furnishing,” he announced. “I scrubbed you from the carpets and ripped them up. Washed the floors. The walls. I threw paint over the places you touched because I could only ever see your hands there. I stripped every reminder of you from room after room and still you remained.” The sound of cracked brick followed the confession and she flinched because she knew he’d hit the wall. “I’ve wanted to burn the entire fucking house down during the quiet moments when I’m alone and I leave my desk simply because I thought I heard your voice calling my goddamn name.” Another. “I smell your hair.” Another. “I feel your skin.” Another. “I didn’t sleep for weeks. I couldn’t eat. I was lifeless.” He released a short roar. “And here you are again. Calm. Like you didn’t leave me in shambles. Ruining the quarter of joy that I managed to snatch from a hand that has done nothing but slap me in the fucking face since the day that I met you. That quarter is spent. Thrown down a well that doesn’t have any wishes in it, only hollowness. So yeah,” he finished blithely. “I want to fight. I want you to yell. I want finger pointing and rage. Because it is so much better than the quiet. So much better.”

His words immobilized her. “You want to hurt me,” she said, finally turning around.

He didn’t respond.

“Answer me,” she prodded on a growl.  “Is that what you want? To hurt me?”

His face twitched with disdain. “Yes,” he hissed. “I want to hurt you.” He pounded his chest with one hand. “I want to hurt you! Make you feel. Force something other than indifference down your throat. I want to shove pain into you.” His chest heaved, bulking beneath his shirt. “I want you to feel what I do. I want you to be just as lost. Just as confounded and empty as you left me.” He allowed his large hands to hover about her face as his lip curled. “I want to hurt you, Kissa. I want to hurt you badly. Because I’m selfish. Because I’m. Damaged. Too.

Horrifyingly enough, disgustingly enough, she wanted him to hurt her as well. Twisted. It was all so twisted. But she reached upward and took his right hand regardless of all her reservations and placed it against her throat, furling his fingers around the delicate muscles there, holding the fire in his eyes as she did so.

“Then hurt me,” she whispered, squeezing his hand. “Use me. And when you’re finished, cleanse yourself. Pray to forget me. My voice. My scent. Make it right. Balance the scales.”



“Beastly Urges” soon come! Honest! Cross my boobs! 


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