Shallow Cuts
by Samantha
Rating: R
Disclaimer: Joss owns Faith and Buffy, Garbage owns
the lyrics to #1 crush.
Notes: I haven't been around much lately, sorry bout
that. More dark stuff here, I am gonna write a nice
fluffy happy fic one of these days.
Feedback: Always Much loved.
::I would die for you, I would die for you I've been dying just to feel you by my side To know that you're mine::
Shallow cuts, little thoughts of you. Thoughts I try so hard to push from my mind, thoughts that are never quite gone. It’s just a pocketknife, but I keep it sharp for nights like this, nights when the image of you is just a little too clear in my head.
I try to blur the image, a few drinks, and conversations with a random blonde. But you never really fade; just smear at the edges a little. The girl tonight I think her name was Marie, doesn't matter, to me they're all you. She was blonde, they all look like you in some way, maybe the nose, or the hair, or the lips... Shallow cuts, keep my mind off you. She was pretty, super sweet, innocent, kept licking her lips, giggling nervously when I would touch her hand, or brush her leg with my own.
I think it was her first time, sorry to her for that, probably turned her off women from now on. I am never nice to them once I'm through with them. We lay, panting in the stifling heat of the room, made warmer by our bodies, me licking the beads of sweat from my upper lip, feeling raw, and spent, but not at all satisfied. She rolled over to me, wrapping an arm around my waist and kissing my jaw.
"That was amazing," she sighed, snuggling into my neck. That was too much, the words and actions I imagined you saying all too often.
I shoved away from her, sitting on the edge of the bed, my bed, in my shitty motel for the night. I reached through the darkness to fumble for the pack of cigarettes I had abandoned earlier on the night table. I slid one into my mouth, grasping the lighter in my other hand. I heard her moving, and in the flash of light as I lit my cigarette I saw her worried expression.
"Faith?" She whispered, my name quivering on her lips. I exhaled slowly, savoring the feeling of the smoke sliding across my lips. This is the part I've almost grown to love.
"I gotta shower. You should probably catch a cab." I stand, trying not to run to the shower, I make it to the bathroom door before she speaks again.
"Faith," again with the quiver, and I pause, looking back through the darkness. Her face is illuminated by the streetlight, wide green eyes, so much like yours.
"Just go," and I shut the bathroom door behind me. Even in this scalding heat I reach only for the hot water. It's a cheap motel, the waters not going to be that hot. I step under the spray, water replacing sweat, arms steadying on the shower wall, face to the water, eyes closed to the heat. Just another lame attempt to feel something.
Why do I fall back into it so easy? I got rid of you in jail, I moved on. Two weeks in sunnyhell, and I'm right back where we started years ago. Alone, in a shit motel, thinking about you. Again, shallow cuts to keep you away from my head, eyes shut. But the paintings crystal clear even in the dark.
She’s gone when I get out. I didn’t think she was one of the stupid ones who stayed past her welcome, but sometimes they surprise me. I open the blinds a little, letting in the orange light from the street, and sit, lighting another ciggarette. I pull the bottle of jack out from under the bed. Three hours later here I am.
I take another shot, the liquid’s warm, like taking a sip of the humid air around me, it burns on the way down, like drinking you in. In my head I’m picturing you, on my arm, another shallow cut, white pain fills my vision for a minute, blocking you out, but it fades quickly, and you come shining through. A few more shots, a few more cuts, and darkness will take over for the night. If I’m lucky, maybe three hours without you.