Page 86 of Paper Thin Love

“I didn’t say it was.”

“You didn’t say it wasn’t.”

He’s right. I assume he was the monster he pretended to be.“I’m sorry.”

He snorts as he grabs his sketch book again.“I’m not an escape, Mila, I’m a darkness, a terrible void you will be lost in.” He admits as he grabs a piece of charcoal and forces it into my palm, smearing more of the dirty debris into my skin.

I stare at him, my devil and savior who will grant me freedom one day. Voids swallow both shadows and light. They consume everything, just like he has taken over me.

I stand and turn from him. Our art class has a unique feature. Mrs. Jones calls it the reflection wall. I call it a mess. It’s a giant wall covered in canvas that she allows students to throw paint at. Mrs. Jones suggested utilizing the wall for working out kinks or experimenting with new methods. Every Monday she changes the walls, putting up a new blank canvas and by the end of the week someone has covered it. Sometimes it’s covered in beautiful sketches, other times students let loose and have a painting fight.

I stop next to the cart filled with paint bottles. I tip my chin up and look at the vast white canvas. It feels deafening, like a mountain I have to climb to survive.

I grab the headphones that hang heavy around my neck and place them over my ears. I press shuffle on my music app.‘Blood // Water’begins to play as I run my fingers over the paint colors. I stop when I touch the black paint. Darkness.

I grab it and look for a brush. There is none in sight. Fuck it. You want me to feel? I’ll feel. I’ll cover my hands in the dirt.

I squeeze a huge glob of paint out into my palm and then I smear it onto the white canvas. My heart beats wildly when I take in the contrast. A faint smeared outline of my fingers reflects back at me. The lyrics shout and scream into my ears and I just…stop thinking. I feel the darkness, the paint as it consumes me like the void Dash King is. My hands move wildly as I work to cover the canvas. Eventually I have to stop because I’m panting. I stumble back and see what I have done. A huge section of the canvas is painted black.

Was this always inside of me, lurking like an unknown beast?

A shadow falls over me as Dash steps forward, his eyes taking in what I have done. What he has tempted me to let loose. Slowly he turns, reaches out and removes my headphones. I look from side to side to find the class empty.

“Class ended ten minutes ago. I told Mrs. Jones I’d help you clean up.”

I snort,“But isn’t it you who wants me to get dirty?”

He tilts his head, studying me with disappointment,“I want you to not be shocked when you realize how filthy you are. I want you to see the stains and realize you survived. We’re trapped in a mold we can never break, little fox, no matter how many times you try to change your coat, Mila, you’re trapped.”

I can’t help but to look at my bag again. Buried inside is a mold Dash has to accept. He will; he’s never tried to run from it. The very first day here, he knew who he had to be, and he accepted it.

Despite my hesitation, I must deliver that note to him soon.“You promised to help me escape.”

He nods.“That doesn’t mean you broke the mold.”

His blonde hair stands out against the black canvas, giving him the appearance of a golden halo.“Then help me accept it,” I admit.

His lip tugs up on one side.“I’ve been waiting for you to say that.” He grabs me, our bodies colliding, and then he kisses me so fiercely I think I might be dreaming.

Needing to make sure he’s real, I reach up and grasp his face.Our tongues collide, they curl and snake, fight, dance, cherish, and beg to unite.

It’s not enough.

I start to tear at his shirt, needing to feel the warmth of his flesh as I do in the shower. His hands grab my ass tugging me closer. He hisses like he hates the fact that air can still slip between our bodies. Another jerk, and we’re molded together.

I pull away for a moment. When his eyes turn ravenous, that’s when I capture my mental picture.

He dives back in, treating me like a refreshing ocean on a scorching summer day. His hot breath heats my body to a dangerous temperature.

I don't care where we are or who sees; all the worries melt away under his lips.

Is this what love is? A manic need to be claimed?

He grins as he kisses my jaw, then sucks hard, leaving a mark on my neck. He likes to mark me, and I’ve started to let others see it.

My core cries out.More, more, we want more!"Dash, please." Just to tip him over the edge, I divulge more, "I'm wet," I whisper. "So wet for you."

"Stop!"

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