Blinded by Pain- Excerpt 3 (( rough rough draft))

I opened my apartment door nervously. This was my first time having Steven in my room, and I didn’t know how he would react. I wasn’t the neatest girl around- though I tried to be. My roommate seemed to be the sloppy one- as always, leaving dirty dishes along with her clothes everywhere, as well as residue from the smoking sessions her and her friends had when they came over.
I let out a sigh of relief when I realized that the apartment was decent, and there was no sign of Ericka. She was probably out doing the usual- getting drunk, high, or laid.
I locked the door as I saw Steven glancing around the apartment.
“I like this little pad you have here.” He smiled at me. “This little bachelorette pad.”
“I wish.” I smiled back. “It’s more than me in here. I live with a girl named Ericka.”
He noticed me rolling my eyes after speaking her name, and he asked why.
“I’ll explain later. I want to remain happy tonight.”
He made his way to the living room and sat down on the couch as I made my way into the kitchen.
“Would you like something to drink?” I asked him as I opened the refrigerator and freezer. My bottle of Bacardi Coconut Rum was staring back at me. Yum Yum…
“Sure, I’ll have some water please.” He replied.
I rolled my eyes. What a good boy, I thought. I’m going to have to bring the bad man out of him. I know it’s in there somewhere…
“I don’t have any water!” I lied. When I wasn’t drinking alcohol, I was drinking water. It kept my skin clear. “Plus, it’s a Friday! Let me play bartender for you tonight!”
There was a slight pause.
“I don’t really drink like that, babes.” I heard him call from the living room.
“What? You don’t drink? Why not?”
“I just never found anything fun or attractive about drinking something that tastes terrible just to get drunk and throw up your dinner. It’s obviously not good for you, which is the reason your body makes you spit it back out.”
“Oh my God, Steven!” I exclaimed. “Lighten up! I didn’t ask you to take shots with me! I asked you to have a drink! I make a delicious rum and coke!”
Another pause.
“Okay, Misses Peer Pressure.” He gave in. “Make one for us- to share!”
“Coming right up, sexy!” I exclaimed. I was happy…oh so happy…I was going to get a little something in his system, and maybe his wall would come right down, and I would get to see the real him, or maybe another side of him. I just couldn’t believe how perfect he seemed to be.
There was no such thing as a perfect man.
I grabbed the rum and poured a good amount into a cup with ice. I then poured some vanilla Coke inside the cup and used another cup to mix it. I poured it from cup to cup to cup until I felt the rum was evenly mixed into the soda. I tasted it.
Delicious…it ran down my throat smoothly, and I felt the slight burn in my stomach. The liquor could not be tasted.
Now it was time to see how he would handle it.
Steven looked away from the television for a split second and caught me smiling ear to ear as I entered the living room.
“Hold on!” He started to smile too, as he raised a finger. “I’m not drinking that! I caught you with that evil grin on your face! You may have put a little something extra in that cup! Uh huh…you’re trying to take advantage of me! Don’t make me call date rape!”
I laughed as I plopped on the couch beside him. I handed him the drink, and he peered inside as if it was poison.
“Where’s yours?” He asked.
“I thought we were sharing?”
“Oh yeah!” He laughed.
“I’ll make mine after you start drinking.”
He looked at me.
“My friends know where I am, girl.” He smirked, then sniffed the drink. “They’ll come looking for me.”
“Boy, ain’t nobody trying to do anything to you!” I sat next to him. “I could get what I wanted from you without you being drunk! Now drink it!”
“Alright, alright- calm down, feisty lady. It will be okay. Shortly you will get me drunk, and you’ll be able to rape me without a fight. You just have to have patience! I know I’m too sexy for you to wait, but…”
I laughed and shoved him playfully.
“Stop playing and drink it!” I was getting impatient. “I want to see how good my bar tending skills are!”
He made an ugly face, and slowly took a sip. A small sip.
His face loosened.
He took another sip of the drink.
His eyes got squinted as he smiled. I loved his slanted eyes.
“This is really good!” He said. “Is there even any liquor in this?”
“Yeah,” I smiled at the compliment. “A little.”
“See, these are the types of drinks I like.” He sat back on the couch. “If I ever drink, I like mixed drinks that are smooth and sweet…not the poison you people be drinking. My friends make fun of me, but whatever. My dinner stays in my stomach at the end of the night and my taste buds love me.”
He was so different.
Ever since I entered college, every guy I met drank. Come to think about it, they were probably drunk when I met them. Drinking was the thing to do in this small college town. It seemed to be the only was to enjoy yourself. Sad, but true.
Yet Steven didn’t drink. This was just another good thing about him that separated him from the rest.
Things were looking too good to be true, but I refused to believe them.
This always happened. It’s a vicious cycle. Women wore make-up to look prettier by covering up the blemishes and enhancing our natural beauty. Men wore make-up that made them look more like Mr. Right- to you. Things are so smooth at first, as smooth as the make up we apply, and then all of a sudden- like the foundation women wore- their make-up started to fade until it was gone forever. By that time, we’re usually too caught up in love with who they used to be to realize who they have become. Then if we do peep the change, we always hoped that some day they would return to the way they were. We love them and do everything in our power hoping that they’ll realize that they should be back who they used to be, but we fail to realize that the person they used to be wasn’t them. It was someone they made up. So they could never go back and become that permanently- it was a temporary thing, like make-up. Once they know they have our hearts, the acting stops. Then as soon as they finally lose you, they apply the make-up back on.
I wish men would stop using this make-up and just get plastic surgery.
Dealing with this was a lose-lose situation, so you just have to make sure you never give them what they’re acting to receive. The longer they act, the happier you seem to be.
I turned on the radio as I went to the kitchen to make my drink. A loud rock station started to blast, and I told Steven to change it. I put my stereo system in the living room, and it really got on my nerves when people touched my things without asking. I would have to have a word with Ericka. She was pushing it…
“Why change it?” Steven shouted from the living room. “I love this song!”
“Wow. Do you really listen to that crap?” I asked as I mixed my drink. I made sure mine would be a little stronger than his.
“Yes!” he shouted. “I love a lot of different kinds of music, ye of the close minded tribe! Open up a little!”
I heard him singing some song about a pretender, and surrender…
It actually had a nice tune, but I just hated the screaming. You couldn’t make out a word being said!
I returned to the living room and saw that his cup was empty. I was surprised.
He was about to be loony tunes.
“Wow, were you thirsty?” I inquired.
“Wow, was I.” He responded as he sang his rock song and played his imaginary guitar. What a goofball.
Yes he looked so cute.
I placed my cup on the coffee table and went to change the station.
“Party pooper!” He yelled as he jumped up and came towards me. “What a kill joy!”
He was going to try to turn the station back, but I seemed to stop him in his tracks when Please Don’t Go by Tyrese was playing on my favorite R&B station.
He started to sing and move his body as if he was the one on the radio.
I admired his moves as he sang.
“Please Don’t gooo…Please don’t goooo…”
He could hold a tune.
Sexy. I should make him serenade me.
He all of a sudden stopped talking and looked as if he was in deep thought.
“You know, I always wondered…” He began as he made his way back to the couch slowly, staggering slightly. “Why is it that men always have these songs about begging a woman to stay, and to forgive them? Women do the same thing that men do, if not worse- yet I haven’t heard one song by a woman asking for forgiveness.”
I sat down next to him, grabbed my drink off the coffee table, and started to sip on it. It burned. Just like I liked it.
“You think women do worse? Please. Men are the most trifling things on the planet!”
“Things?” He gave me this look as if he was shocked. “Things? We can’t even be creatures? Animals? We’re just simplified to things?”
I thought for a second. “Okay, dogs! Dogs describe you well. You eat, sleep, and try to hump anything that moves.”
“So I guess it’s fair for me to call all women dogs at well, huh? Because all the ones I’ve come across are quick to roll over and open their legs for any dog.”
I could see a change in him. The liquor was lowering that wall, violently spraying off the make-up- the true him was coming out. I sat back, and examined. I was ready to see him.
“So I guess you’re basically calling all women bitches then, huh?” I couldn’t help but get defensive. “A female dog is a bitch, correct?”
“No, miss.” He looked me in the eyes. “I would never stoop to that level. Bitch and hoe is not in my vocabulary. I respect women. I just don’t respect the ones that hurt the good brothers, and flock to the bad ones. It makes no sense. I swear I’ll never get the female species!”
“Sounds like a personal problem.” I said, surprised at his response. He doesn’t say bitch or hoe? The men around here will call you both to your face, before and after they try to get your number. Especially after you deny them…
“Why don’t you say those words?” I was curious. “Don’t you believe that there are bitches and hoes around?”
“No, ma'am.” He responded. “I believe there are a lot of women who make mistakes in their life, as well as a lot of women who just aren’t for me. Who am I to call them a female dog, and a garden tool? That’s really not my place.”
“Wow. You’re a good actor.” I blurted out, due none other than to the liquor. I regretted it right after it slipped.
“Actor? What do you mean?” He looked upset. Probably the liquor seeping out onto his actions as well. He drank that drink way too fast. Obviously not an experienced drinker- especially if he didn’t like to get drunk.
“I mean I didn’t mean that, Steven.” I tried to retract my statement, but it was already out there. The stench had already been concocted in my brain, seeped out of my mouth and permeating the room, and like a smell we just had to wait it out. Or leave to escape.
“I think you meant it, ma.” He said. His whole attitude seemed to change. “You said it, so I think you meant it. Drunken words are sober thoughts.”
“I’m not drunk.” I lied.
Well, it wasn’t a complete lie. I was getting there, but I wasn’t drunk. Yet. I had a few more sips to go.
“So you think women are the only ones who get hurt?” He ignored me. “You think all men are out to just hurt women? Just to see how many we can lay down, and leave? It’s a big game to us?”
“Yeah, basically.” I didn’t really mean that, I just haven’t found that one to change my mind. I felt myself getting defensive, and when I got defensive, I got nonchalant. I threw my cares out the window because I didn’t want to set myself up for pain....
“Wow.” He continued to stare into my eyes. “Well I have news for you. I’ve gotten my heart broken to pieces. The smallest pieces, by my ex- girlfriend. I haven’t even gotten all the pieces back together, and it’s been over a year.”
I stared back at him until I was forced to look away. I saw the pain in his eyes, and I didn’t like it. He was serious.
“Do you know what happened to me?” I saw him looking my way out the corner of my eye. “Do you know what I think about every single day?”
“What happened?” I looked at him.
“I had a girlfriend my freshman year. Met her about a month into school, and we seemed to just click. We had so much in common. I loved everything about her, from her smile to her frown. When she looked her best, to when she looked her worst. I fell fast. I adored her. I treated her like my queen, because I felt she didn't deserve anything less. More, if anything!
So, we were together for about a year, and then summer time came. She had to go to summer school, I chose to work at home. Our school was located about two hours away, and I was never good with long distance relationships, but I figured this time things would be different. This time I was in love. So we decided to not let something as simple as distance take away what we had, and we continued the relationship. Things were so amazing up until the point she left. Then things started to go downhill. Fast.
She met new friends and started hanging out with them more, she found a job down there, and then she had classes. So she had to balance her social life, her job, and her school work and somehow fit me inside there.
That was fine with me, I was so understanding. Sometimes I would hardly hear from her all day, and then maybe get a ten minute conversation in with her at night. That was cool I could deal with that. But then I started to feel like she wasn't putting in an effort. She wasn't calling as much, she wasn't texting, I would tell her I loved her and get no response, I couldn't even get ten minutes at the end of the night! There was a time where I didn't hear from her for 24 hours...in a row. She would just apologize and say she was busy. This is when the arguing began.
One day I drove to the school to surprise her with her favorite chocolate and flowers, along with a day with me. I thought it would make her happy, and possibly save our relationship. I cared about our relationship, and didn't want to let her go. At least not without a fight.
I call her the day I was coming, and she doesn't pick up. I text her, and she doesn't respond. I figured she was probably busy or something, and I thought nothing of it. I felt it would make things better, the surprise would be even stronger due to us not speaking.
So I go to her apartment, nervous about what her reaction may be due to the way she was acting lately, and I knock on her door. After a couple minutes, a guy opens the door with nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist. I nearly drop the flowers and the chocolate to the floor.
He asks me what I wanted, and I look at the apartment number to make sure I'm at the right place.
As I pull out my phone to call her and ask if she moved, she appears to the side of the muscular man in a towel with a surprised look on her face.
You think she was surprised? How do you think I felt?
I can't even get any words out, and she starts to ask what I was doing there. Not a hey, nice to see you, or even a hey, let me explain- just a questionnaire about how I got there, and why I was there! I had no words for her, so I just handed her the chocolates and flowers and left.
As I drove home, two hours may I add, I tried to come up with any excuse that she could use- except for the obvious. I gave her the benefit of the doubt. I refused to believe what I saw with my own eyes, and I was down to believe they deceived me if she would just feed me anything- any lie would do. I was down for her lying to me, me believing it, and then we getting past it and working things out. That's all I wanted. Her. Us. That's all I wanted."
He seemed as if he were about to cry, but I saw no tears forming.
"I couldn't understand her logic." He continued. "I had given her everything! What more could she ask for? More attention? I was giving her more attention than I've even given anyone in my life! I cut off my friends for her, family...I just didn't get it. Do you know what she did? She sent me a text. A fucking text. And that's not it. Do you know what it said? The stupid text said Why don't you call next time and not just show up at people's places uninvited. Learn some respect. I don't think we're working out. It's over. That's what it said. Verbatim. I couldn't help but learn it by heart because I read it over and over hoping that somehow, some way the text would magically change, or I'd see a jk at the end. Something. Anything that will tell me that we weren't over. Anything."
He stopped and took a breath. He was talking so fast, trying to get everything out that he wasn't even breathing. It was like he was throwing up, throwing up his past. His vile, ugly, painful past.
“And then it didn’t end there. One day when the school year actually started, I saw them together. Yes, I’d seen them together before- hugged up, kissing, holding hands- doing what we used to do until she just didn’t want to do that anymore. But this time was different. I was walking to my car in the main parking lot, and I saw him screaming in her face. Just yelling and screaming, loose spit getting in her face. She was just sitting there. Taking it. Letting him yell and scream in her face, curse in her face. I tried to keep walking to my car, because it wasn’t my business. She wasn’t my issue anymore- due to her. I tried to ignore it. But I lost it when I saw him yank open the door to his car and try to shove her in. That’s when she started to fight back. She refused to get into the car, and he was trying to use force to get her in. She started to scream and fight. I couldn’t take it anymore. I walked up…” His voice trailed off as if it hurt talking about an issue as such.
The pain in his voice was evident. The darkness of his past was coming to the light, even though he was trying his hardest to keep it covered. It wasn’t working too well.
He was opening up.
So far, not a bad thing.
“What happened when you went up to them?” I asked. I was tuned into him as if he were a book, and I had reached the climax and couldn’t put it down…
I don’t think I could put him down.
“Well,” He sighed as he began. “I hate talking about this, so feel special. I don’t talk to people about this…this part of my life. I spend every day trying to forget it, yet every day it resurfaces in my brain- as if my thoughts are stained. It’s crazy.”
I loved the way he spoke as if he were a writer. It was like he painted pictures with his words. His words held the wait of an anchor, the power to hold you, yet the reasoning behind his words seemed to only be holding him down.
I was beginning to like him more than I did before. I didn’t like this.
“I walked up,” He continued; I tuned in. “And I’ll never forget the look on her face. Her expression was painted with embarrassment, confusion, gratefulness, and regret all together. The looked happy to see me, yet disappointed at the same time. Her man looked into her eyes and saw that there was someone there, so he turned around and saw it was me. I’ll never forget that smirk. His face held that ‘what the hell do you think you’re going to do?’ look. I wanted to talk to him about it, but I couldn’t control myself. He was hurting a woman I loved- just because he felt he took. So I took matters into my own hands.”
He paused again.
“I didn’t give him a chance to speak. I just grabbed him by his shirt, pushed him away from her, and slammed him on the hood of his car. He seemed stunned. I then looked him into his eyes and told him that I better not ever see him putting his hands on another woman, especially my woman. I felt like it wasn’t even me speaking to him. It was the fury.”
I was turned on by the fact that he could stand up for himself, but even more- somebody he cared for.
“He tried to struggle out of my grip, but I had a firm hold on him. Something I leaved from my step-father. If he moved, it would hurt him, so he just relaxed and agreed to stop. I made sure he meant what he was saying, and let him go.
I looked back at my ex as I walked to me car, and she had this look on her face that gave me chills. She was looking at me the same way she looked at me the first time she saw me. She looked as if she wanted me, as if I was meant for her. And for a split second, I wanted to play a movie roll and scoop her into my arms and bring her to my car and drive her away from that maniac.
Then I remembered that life wasn’t a movie…no matter how hard we try to change the scripts we’re given.”
I let that sink in before I responded. He was so true. We tend to only see what we want to see, only the good- especially when we’re in a relationship- instead of seeing what’s real. There was nothing Hollywood about life but the movies we saw. Happy endings were only present at the end of good sex, and that was also the beginning of troubles. I remembered when I used to think my life was such a fairy tale, or some sort of dream. Boy, was I woken up.
“Did you guys ever talk after that?” I asked him. “Did you ever try to get things back to how they were?”
“She tried. She sent me messages, called, wrote me, texted me, did what seemed like everything she could do to get me back. Telling me how much she loved me, saying how much of a mistake she made for leaving me, and how she wanted me back and she could show me how good she could treat me. She offered me dinner, clothes, sex, you name it. She tried hard. But I refused.”
“Were you with somebody else?”
“No, I couldn’t be with somebody else. I wasn’t myself, so why would I try to be with another girl. I couldn’t even be with the one I wanted to be with!”
“So you just rejected her?”
“Yep. I couldn’t go back to that. For what? To set myself up for the okey doke- once again? I couldn’t take that pain again. Ever. And pretty soon, she was back with the guy she was trying to leave for me. That’s when I just laughed at her, and laughed at any female who would do the same. She was a joke. A Comedian.”
“A hoe.” I added. “A bitch.”
“No, a mistake.” He corrected me. “A learning experience.”
I stared at him as he just looked down at his hands. He seemed so lost in the pain, so deep that nothing could pull him out.
I wanted to try and pull him out.
But what if me trying to pull him out cased me to get pulled in?
Was I willing to take that chance?
“Wow, I’m so sorry for ranting and venting to you.” He apologized. “You said you wanted to remain happy…I’m taking away your happiness. I’m so sorry.”


To be continued...