harder, better, faster, stronger...

she smiles faintly , feels a breath of happiness ghost over the back of her neck as slender arms wrap around her . oh , god . she loves him . she loves him – she wants him , to have each and every part of him engrained in her . such a surge of organic energy that courses through her , she knows that she’s in love . she’s more in love than she’s ever been . with that sweet mouth pressed to the naked flesh of her throat – oh , she loves him . she’s fucking crazy for him .

❛ yeah .. it’s important . ❜

a hand moves to catch his chin . she doesn’t mind the boldness – loves the faint bravery he shows in kissing her . must be like kissing a grecian statue at lacma . she presses her mouth to his own , kisses him deeply – but only for a few brief moments , only allowing herself those seconds of elation .

and she draws back . touches his cheek . their eyes meet .

❛ there’s a nice view . wanna see ? ❜

Sometimes he thinks that he wasn’t real until he met her. Sometimes he feels as though he had been asleep his entire life, and that when he saw her something in him said that it was time to wake up, and he did. Colors look more vivid and life seems to be worth living, really worth living. When she was gone, all that disappeared, but now it seems to be back again — and though that scares him, makes him feel as though he’s investing too much of himself in his love for her — he’s relieved.

Christian tries to be an optimist but he knows he’s always really been pessimistic. His optimistic outlook was always an attempt to be okay with the fact that everything always felt wrong, not accepting things as they came and actually seeing them as good. Right now, things feel good. Maybe things won’t feel wrong all the time anymore. Maybe this time he’ll really get better.

❛ I th-think I already have a nice view… ❜

He’s looking at her. The words feel cliche and embarassing as soon as they leave his mouth, so he stares at the floor and fucks with his hair and tries not to turn red.

❛ Y-yes I w-wanna see. ❜

she doesn’t know how long she’ll stay here . she doesn’t mind it – living in the belly of the city , feeling herself buried beneath the normal superficiality of her peers . and yet , she shined through – she felt it , lunar dusted and cosmic .

standing before christian , she thinks she feels a variation of what she knew . kissed by artemis , dressed in silken silvers – warrior woman . but not the chilled archetype she had known , a certain level of vulnerability shining in her bright eyes . she wonders if this is genuine love . it must be – finding the balance between self and passion .

the skinny cat gives his shoulders a roll – meows at the intruder as priscilla lifts a narrow wrist . digits hook at chris’s forearm , and she feels the quiet strength . her boy .

❛ it’s the cat we found – he showed up at my doorstep a month or so ago . brought a dead bird . i was awfully proud . ❜

Christian blinks, startled by the meowing cat, and looks down at the little creature. When what he’s seeing — along with Priscilla’s words — register, he breaks into a smile and kneels down, petting the cat’s little head and raising his voice a few octaves to say hello, as people often do when speaking to animals. For whatever reason, this familiarity makes him feel a little more comfortable, as though he has a less-unpredictable connection to this place, to Priscilla, through the cat.

He stands back up.

❛ I’m g-glad you two stuck together. Gotta do that in the big city. ❜

He smiles, feeling a little less nervous, and tentatively wraps his arms around the woman, resting his cheek against her shoulder and hiding his face in her neck. He kisses the skin, feeling embarrassed at his boldness — he always wants to ask first.

she steps aside slowly , terry cloth dragging over the wood flooring before a slender hand reaches out . bony digits catch chris’s wrist – everything about him is slender and gentle , sweetened and dulcet . he’s a boy , only a boy – how can she love a boy so violently ? so desperately ? it doesn’t feel right but she knows it doesn’t feel wrong enough to stay away from him now .

priscilla leads christian inside .

the apartment itself is small – a studio , wide window overlooking the glistening city of upper west-side los angeles . a queen sized mattress lies in the center of the room , magazines – clothes , empty cans of sodas and cigarette butts litter the wooden floor of the apartment .

resting upon the apartment – the cat that had followed priscilla at the supermarket . that felt like ages ago . she bites into her bottom lip , tugging him inside and closing the door quietly .

❛ not much . decided to go for a studio . ❜

Small and messy-pristine, it’s the kind of place that he would have imagined her living when he first met her. He had been surprised to find that she mostly lived out of hotel rooms, though something about that seemed natural, too, in a way; Priscilla wasn’t fond of permanence. She still isn’t. A bit of anxiety grips at his stomach again, but he pushes it away — things seem as though they might be okay, now.

He scans the studio, then rests his eyes on her once more, offering a smile. There’s a little nod and he bites his tongue, taking another moment before he can find the right words, half-nervous and entirely dazzled.

❛ I like it. I th-think it suits you. ❜

she knows that if she keeps going like this , she’s going to make a compulsive decision . a decision rooted in her inability to decide – her inability to stay committed to christian , despite wanting to . despite wanting to be near him , despite loving him to bits – she knows and understands that within herself , it’s especially difficult for her to be capable of remaining near him .

out of control – she had to make a decision , make commitment a necessity , something of absolute import .

and so she knows she wants to marry chris .

she touches his face gingerly , kisses his mouth over and over again before she draws back by a fraction . bright eyes take him in – the furrow of his brow , sweet cupid’s bow of his mouth . she’s breathless with fear and love , bumps her nose against his , breathes in a quivering breath .

❛ … wanna see my place ? ❜

With that kiss, he almost forgot that this is an entirely different place than the one he was with her in last. He blinks, drawing back and looked dazed and slightly surprised, as though his surroundings have just registered only now. He peers around, eyes focusing on her for a moment before looking past her.

❛ Yeah, ❜ he says once he finds his breath, looking toward her and offering a soft smile.

He’d love to see her place. From what he’s seen so far, it’s beautiful — but, then again, he’s only really registered her here. Everything else is just backdrop that he hasn’t really looked at just yet.

❛ Th-that would be nice. ❜

her gaze lifts to meet his own . he doesn’t seem to know what to do with himself – she was always supposed to know . supposed to know where to move his hands , have him kiss – but now she flounders , wanting badly to kiss him again . for her past actions to dissolve and blur over – for them to simply indulge in one another and pursue .. what ? what could they pursue besides a future with one another ? a future where priscilla didn’t feel the compulsive need to flee every few months – a future where she gave herself enough permission , enough trust , to love christian shamelessly .

she looks nice .

face free of makeup , hair damp and freshly cut – she looks nice . she sinks her teeth into her bottom lip and finds herself reaching forward . compulsive , in love – she’s grabbing his hands and tugging him down , rising on the balls of her feet so her mouth can press fully against his own .

oh , god . she loves him . she loves that mouth . she trembles and beams and kisses him harder with each passing second , arms slipping around his neck , tugging him in and holding him there so she might grin and kiss him again and again .

It isn’t a clarification, but it feels like it may be a reassurance. Nothing makes sense, and he thinks that maybe nothing will; even if they find their way out of this labyrinth, they may come to realize that they don’t know what’s outside of it, how to handle a world beyond the maze.

Priscilla is a universe, yes — she’s the universe — but maybe she’s not the same one that everyone else belongs to. Loving her is interdimensional travel and forgetting about home.

When she kisses him, Christian kisses her back. Of course he does. He doesn’t know how to do anything else. Even if he wanted to pull away, which he doesn’t, he wouldn’t be able to, he wouldn’t understand how to move away from her. Arms wrap around her and hug her tight, and when he realizes that she’s smiling, something inside of him that he hadn’t known was dead comes back to life.

He’s lost. But he’s happy here, he thinks.

most times , she doesn’t know what the fuck she’s doing anymore . she goes about her daily routine with a sense of detachment , a lack of understanding towards what her and chris are now , what they will become . she wants to think that maybe , she’s learning to accept her ability to love in this way – but she’s unsure , unknowing of herself . anxiety would set in , then . she should know herself , she should know the labyrinth that was contained inside her ribcage .

her heart thrums loudly as she hears the knock at the door . tying the robe with a silken chord , her damp hair is messily pushed back , bare feet padding over wood floor . the studio apartment is cramped – messy , but somehow still bare in furnishings . she unlocks the deadbolt , opens the door .

there’s a nervous lick of her lips – static eyes that lift , blur , resolve . her hand lifts to rub at her jaw , a weak smile forming at her lips .

he looks even more nervous than her . which was always good .

❛ hi , chris . ❜

She’s so beautiful. Too beautiful, maybe. The type of beauty that makes people feel distant, like they’re looking at something unreal, something other than a person. A painting or an animal at the zoo. Christian, even in all his anxiety, would always stand closer to the art than he was supposed to, even going as far as to bravely touch a statue or a brush stroke. Christian, even in all his anxiety, always stood as close as he could to the animal enclosure, eyes wide and in awe, wondering what it would be like to curl up and sleep against a leopard.

He always sought out beauty. He always wanted to be close to it. Maybe that’s why music always felt so real and personal to him; it was something beautiful, something really beautiful, that was for once within reach.

Right now, he doesn’t know whether or not Priscilla is within reach. It’s entirely possible this is the goodbye call, where she tells him she’s been thinking about everything that’s happened and that she’s decided it’s not worth the pain, the mess, when she could keep herself happy living the life she chose.

❛ H-hi. You look nice. ❜

phone is set aside , leonine face submerging itself within the perfumed bubbles of her bath . she draws in a steadying breath through her nostrils , mouth hidden beneath the soapy water before she lifts , rises , steps out of her bath and shakes out her hair into a terry cloth towel .

the bath is soon drained . she hears the soft gurgling , feels anxiety pin and knot at the pit of her stomach . still incredibly uncertain as to where they stood , priscilla doesn’t think she’s ever been this anxious before a visit with chris .

perfumed is spritzed over her still - soaked form , on her throat – just below her naval . she lifts her phone , unlocks it with an unsteady breath .

she needs a drink .

[ text : chris ] okay baby . see you soon

Christian is still suffering from emotional whiplash, unsure what’s going on between them, but he will always come when she calls. He tries to see the fact that she called him as a good sign, but then he goes back and thinks it over again, wondering if she feels trapped by him, wondering if they’re ceaselessly going around in a circle, her trying to be free and him constantly weighing her down with love.

He tries not to think about it.

I need a cigarette, he thinks. He’s never smoked, but this seems like the type of situation in which someone would need a cigarette.

Running a hand through his hair, he knocks on her door, waiting to see her, to be invited in, to find out what the two of them are doing.

[ text : chris ] no baby . just yourself .

[ text: cilla ] ok! on my way now

Christian throws on his coat and grabs his keys, slipping out the back door and circling around the manse to get to his car. Nervously, he toward the windows, scanning over them, making sure there’s no sign of his father, before making his way out of the driveway, quickly and quietly as possible.

The drive isn't long; he's there fairly quickly, and in front of her door even quicker.

[ text : chris ] i have a studio in bev hills [ text : chris ] 409 huntley avenue . doors open , kay?

[ text : cilla ] ok!! i’m on my way now. need me to pick anything up?

[ text : chris ] hey [ text : chris ] can you come by?

tetraphobics !!

[ text : cilla ] i can make my way over in 15. gotta finish cleaning. where do u live now?

❛ it’s not – your fault . ❜

none of it was his fault . hyperaware of her every inhumane act against him – she knows he’s innocent . what he feels is only a fraction of what he should feel . he should be angry with her , resentful of her for simply slipping out of his life in the dead of night . she had wounded him , and yet he holds her with desperation , nothing but love overflowing from that beautiful heart .

priscilla presses broad palms to his chest . sniffs softly , feels her sooty face crumble . she didn’t want to do this to him ( you did . you did . you did ) . she can’t look at him – can’t bear to turn her gaze upon him , because what has she been besides another disappointment ? priscilla tugs him down , but she can’t kiss him . her glossy eyes seek out his own .

he has such soft eyes . not like ice – the lull of a river , swift and churning . priscilla’s digits curl into his shirt . she raises a hand soon , touches his face carefully , tentatively .

❛ … i love you , chris . i’m sorry . i’m so sorry . ❜

Her touch has always been rough, but it’s also been the most comforting. It always managed to soothe him. Christian could be on the verge of a nervous wreck because of something stupid — this or that wasn’t organized perfectly, something wasn’t clean enough, etcetera — and she could touch his face or stroke his hand and things would seem a little less dire.

Things still feel dire now. But still, her touch makes it easier for him to breathe. He looks at her, his eyes cloudy with tears.

He wants to ask her if they can go home. He wants to ask her if they can run away. She can be a supermodel in London, in Berlin, anywhere but here; anywhere she goes, she can be as perfect as she wants to be. Just take him with her and never look back. But he doesn’t say this. He doesn’t say anything. He only wraps his arms around her and buries his head into her shoulder, the sharp bones. She could stab you if you held her wrong, her body would work for her.

❛ Don’t be sorry... D-don't be.... ❜

it’s smothering but she doesn’t mind it , the terry cloth damp over her own nose and mouth – snuffing her out , killing her slowly . that was what love was . death of what she used to be , death of the priscilla with cyanide in her cunt and diamonds in her teeth . death of the priscilla who ravaged and tore through the feeble minds of men with a laugh , a coo .

was that what it was ? did it have to be that way ? she’s so afraid of becoming someone new – she wants viciously to love herself as she is , she wants to adore the diamond-studded panther she knew she was . she had to be .

he wanted her . christian wants priscilla – priscilla the succubus , priscilla the hellcat . does she have to change ? does she have to die ? priscilla whimpers into the kiss and tastes the warmth of his mouth , tongue pushing past his mouth for a brief moment before she’s drawing back . shivering . sobbing out .

she feels weak and quivering , the traffic is so loud and she hate the way her tears burn – priscilla presses her forehead to christian’s chest , feels a shudder rake down her spine , incite dizzying spells to flood her mind . she loves him . she loves him . but she’s so fucking tired now – she’s so tired .

❛ i .. i’m sorry , chris – i’m sorry i just – keep .. keep letting you down – ❜

It must be so hard to be her. It must be hard to wake up every day and be this thing that she is, out of control and spiraling, a destructive galaxy. She’s perfect but it must be so hard.

Christian wonders if he really has it hard. Maybe not. It all just seems so trivial whenever he looks at her. When he sees her cry. When she says those words, everything else stops mattering and he feels ashamed for having ever been upset; he feels ashamed for coming and taking her away from the dream she had been living in for the past month.

❛ That’s n — th — that’s not true. ❜

He wants to kiss her again, and part of him wants to leave so that she can forget about him and go back to the life she had started to build.

❛ I’m — sorry that I — m-make things hard. I don’t mean… I don’t want to ruin… I j-just… I love you, I’m sorry. ❜

he’s soft and good and she remembers the scars and welts on his back , remembers brushing her rough fingertips over them and watching him do his best to not wince . she doesn’t know if he would have winced at the roughness of her touch or the roughness of those memories – but , god . she loves him . she loves him , and his dazzling sweet eyes and his rosy mouth , and the curve of his jaw and the sweet slope of his shoulders . loves that he loves her , loves his interest in film and his affinity towards animals .

she loves him . she loves him and it’s selfless and selfish all in one , and she feels that in his touch , his embrace . wants to shove him away and devour him whole , she’s afraid of him being gone , of cracking . dissolving . he loves her , he loves her – love was supposed to make everything okay , but how could it when everything was so goddamned complicated ?

but priscilla can’t jerk back . fall back . the strength of his arms surrounds her and she tastes his desperation with a dry sob – sooty face is hidden in his shirt , and it must be a sight , two estranged lovers weeping and holding one another on a busy street in downtown los angeles .

can he kiss her ? she feels the memory of that question – the way he would push himself into her carefully , wanting to be able to taste the memory long after it occurred . her sweet boy . her angel . she doesn’t respond – she grabs his face and tugs him down , kissing him hard on the mouth and tastes both of their tears .

One day, Christian will die. He doesn’t know how it will happen, but he knows it will, because it happens to everyone, no matter who they are. He isn’t sure of anything when it comes to death; it terrifies him to no end and he doesn’t like to think about it, doesn’t like to dwell on the thought of a heart that stops beating.

There is one thing, though, he is certain of. One thing.

He will die having kissed the most important woman in the world. The most beautiful and the most terrible and the most wonderful and the most painful.

Chris has a broken heart right now. It will take some time to heal; he’s always been weak, physically and mentally, and his hindrances refuse him the dignity of quick healing when his heart breaks. However, when he kisses her, despite the hopelessness that eats at him now, he knows that it will heal eventually. She loves him. She loves him and maybe he won’t see her for another month. Another year. Or maybe he’ll see her tomorrow. But whenever he sees her again after they part, he knows she will love him.

And he will love her.

They are crying. That, too, will stop eventually.

why doesn’t he just say it ? why doesn’t he just tell her she’s fucking crazy – shove her down , beat her . scream . WHY DID YOU FUCK ME UP AND LEAVE ? WHY CAN’T I GET YOU OUT OF MY HEAD ? she remembers alo doing that , her sweet monster boy – there was some divine retribution . but he doesn’t say it . he questions her , prodding at her – can’t he see ? can’t he see how transparent she truly is ? she stares ahead , feeling empty and alone – the anger in his voice isn’t lost , but she knows his anger .

his patience with her was careful , and when his temper was lit it only lasted for a few spare seconds before he recoiled . corrected himself . she stares ahead and wants to die , wants to step into the traffic and find her corpse mangled in an engine . but what would they do with her body ? would they hold a funeral – dress her up in white and pink , invite her family to lay her down to rest in the livington family plot ? she wants to howl at the idea . thinks that’s one of the things keeping her from killing herself .

but there’s a question – and she has to answer , feels the tightness of her throat betray her . the mist in her eyes . tears gather at the corners , her hands flutter – face turns , refusing to align with his own . it hurt . it hurt . it hurt . she wants it to stop – she didn’t know this would happen , didn’t know it could hurt so fucking bad .

runs through her head – i’m sorry ,i’m sorry . a softening skull and mind that won’t quiet down , wears her to the bone as she trembles and tries to find her footing in reality . she fails . blanches . dissolves as tears begin to drip down her face .

❛ sorry i’m . sorry . sorry . i’m sorry . i’m sorry . i’m – sorry i , i’m sorry – ❜

The anger that was starting to surge back dies immediately at the sight of her crying, at her repeated apologies, so frantic, so sad and broken, so un-Priscilla-like. For a moment, he doesn’t know what’s going on in his mind at all. It isn’t empty but it isn’t full and it isn’t angry and it doesn’t feel like anything but it is something, and then the sight of her is blurry and he realizes that there are tears in his eyes, too.

He will get no answer from her. He realizes this. It won’t be explained and he will never know why she suddenly decided to leave him just to see if she could, why he became an unwitting lab rat to her heartbreak experiment.

He will never know. And he will still love her. He will still look at her and see the universe, because the universe is beautiful, and it is meant to be loved, but sometimes it is confusing and too much, and sometimes it seems senseless, and so often it can be cruel.

Christian stumbles toward the love of his life and curls into her, trying to make himself smaller, clinging to her like a lifeline and feeling as though he has died. His ghost is what holds her now, his ghost is what asks, feebly, weakly,

❛ … — C-can I… can I k-kiss you…? ❜

❛ i’m no good , baby .doesn’t matter if i .. if i wanted to save whales – doesn’t .. outweigh what i am . ❜ darkness . bleak despair . emptiness ravaged by war and madness – what is she ? what is she but a quivering skeleton of doubt and sin , a sugar-lipped debutante . frosted and dolled up , popping pills like they’re hard candy . she feels her bones quiver – threaten to shatter .

she wants desperately to run away from him . to flee into traffic , to join the los angeles underworld in their throes of madness and superficiality . she loves to be shallow . loves to be fake . loves to fuck boys and not find any meaning behind it , a cock and a pussy , money meant so much more . it was always meant to be more .

something in her shatters . thought you loved me . she didn’t want him to doubt it , but knew he might heal if he did . she feels her body tremble , shiver and convulse – thinks she might pass out and dully notes that all she’s eaten today was a snickers and a few swigs of fireball . champagne . should’ve swiped her gums with mdma – not tonight , she said . not tonight .

her face displays it . the shattering – blurring , dissolving . the furrow of her brows and desperation in her glass eyes , the way her hands fumble to hold herself . loves him , she loves him . oh fuck , she loves him .

❛ i do love you . ❜

❛ You left just to see if you could but you love me? ❜

He’s surprised at himself, the way that comes out with such conviction, with no stuttering, betrayal-soaked and confused. Everything she’s ever said before made some sort of sense, but now none of it does and nothing is being explained, nothing is being made clear. All he’s getting for an answer, all he’s gotten for an answer this whole time, is that she’s like this, this is the real her. It tells him nothing.

Anger. Somewhere, deep within his chest, locking with that betrayal. He’s angry. Never once has he found himself angry at Priscilla, not in the whole time he’s known her. Hurt, afraid, confused — yes, those maybe, but he was never angry.

Guilt follows that anger. The knee-jerk reaction. The instinct to love the other and blame himself. He reaches for a reason why this is his fault, he tells himself that he’s overreacting, that he’s not being understanding. If he loves her, which he does, he shouldn’t be angry; there should be no anger here, she doesn’t deserve it.

So she left him. She has that right. He doesn’t have a right to her, to anything, to answers.

But he wants them. He wants them and he hasn’t gotten them. He has that right at least, doesn’t he? He hasn’t asked her for much, has he? He always let her take the lead, always accepted everything she did without question. What’s wrong with one question, this once, when he’s been hurt?

he doesn’t know her at all .

at the end of the day , that was one of the reasons she kept him around . that is why he would come undone with hysteria and panic . he doesn’t know her , will never know her – will never fully understand why she does what she does , who she truly is besides a monster , a hellcat . nothing too magnificent , but something evil and deranged . a succubus and siren , she isn’t anything but beautiful and hollow . empty and riddled with rot .

he doesn’t know her at all . her blood rushes into her ears and she throbs , aches , feels her mouth go dry before falling agape slightly . what does it mean ? what does any of it mean ? evil , she was evil . she had always found comfort without a heart , but now she knows she’s going to hurt christian . she’s going to hurt him more than she ever has before , and her shoulders fall slack . her eyes dim , gloss . there’s no anger , just an absent sense of loss , emptiness that flooded her .

she was going to hurt him , she notes to herself . she was going to hurt him , she was going to hurt herself .

❛ … maybe you don’t think i do that , because you only see the parts of me that you want to see , christian . ❜ voice rasps . emptied . hollow . some sickness spilling over her and making her want to swallow down sugar white pills and kiss poison off a glass coffee table . she stares ahead , not really seeing him – parts of her , fragments . no one could understand her in her entirety . too empty , too bleak . not a galaxy , but a black hole .

chapped lips are wet . her angora doesn’t feel so glamorous now , shrugging down her bony shoulders . she feels sweat cool and damp against the back of her neck . within and without , within and without .

❛ when i scream and laugh at alo . that’s the real me . when i run away from perfect things , that’s the real me . when i’m doped up , fucked up – getting fucked , baby – that’s the real me . you can’t see me in fragmented mirrors anymore .. you’re killing yourself . i’m killing . you . ❜

Christian goes very quiet, his loud thoughts screeching to a halt. He feels as though he has died. There is nothing. Inside of him, inside his mind, nothing is happening. He has ended.

Has he been lied to? Was it just omissions? Is he stupid?

He feels stupid. He feels like some sort of sick punchline. Did she mean it to be that way? There’s regret on her face and he wants to believe that it’s for hurting him, but maybe it’s just for having been found out. He doesn’t know what to believe, but he still wants to take her hand and kiss her; suddenly, desperately, he wants to forget this whole night and go back home and wait. Wait for her to come to him.

❛ But. Th-th-the real you also. Wanted to save whales. And — and you, you also taught me, you taught me how to — how to be… I — you m-made me better. You were always a little — a little blunt, a little harsh, but you — you were kind, I saw you, you could be so... ❜

Chris looks downward at the ground. It’s dirty, he’s dirty, the whole world’s dirty and it’s never going to be clean. No matter how much scrubbing he does.

❛ I thought you loved me. ❜