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Trapped By the One Who Set
Me Free
by
Natasha Bayes
The most
intense feeling you can ever witness is the one
you can never control or
defeat. It is the most excruciating, unbearable,
painstaking feeling one can ever
imagine. The most astounding and confusing one can
encounter. But besides all that, it
is yet the most erotic feeling one can ever feel -
well, in my opinion. More than sparkling
knives or deadly daggers splitting your throat,
widening your stomach, opening your
heart. Giving an extraordinary pierce
internally, a feeling you never knew
existed, a pain you never thought was
bearable. Circling the body like a
boomerang, back and forth right from the head all
the way to every toe, and in between.
The organs deep inside oozing with excitement,
something new to enjoy. The heart:
throbbing as it beats so hard, waiting to explode.
The brain: saying the words I no longer
want to hear. They, already willing to die.
It was a breezy summer in 2002. I had no morals, no
meaning in life. Nothing should
have been important, for it was my teen years. At
this time, I should've been enjoying life
with not a care in the world, no need to feel the
pressure or stress that only older people
feel, for I had no reason for it. Me, being as
different as I thought at the time I was, was
the exact opposite of this. I wasn't happy, or
content. In fact, like any other person had
my fair share of, well, difficulties. Like any
other person, I didn't understand how to deal
with them. Of course, what inevitably happened, my
life began to fall apart, was slowly
drowning in my thoughts, becoming more and more
incompetent to set it right. At the
time, I believed that no one else in the world
would understand my predicament. Believe
no one but myself knew the true meaning of the word
"pain" as I began to believe that no
one else existed. Felt I was alone, all lives were
happy, except my own. I was extremely
naïve. Too frustrated in my own thoughts to even
realise there is a life outside my own.
Anyhow, I felt I had no reason to live. I often
question that thought to myself now, but I
follow those words on with "who does?" That's what
seems to help me through the day
whenever I feel lifeless, which isn't very often. I
use this occasionally as a type of
therapy. It lasts for a while, like doses of
medicine, 'repeat four times daily.' But
seriously, who does deserve to live? The ones who
are already dead? Questions I know
will always be left unanswered.
Around this time in July 2002 among all the others,
I managed to summon up a new little
problem. I never knew how, what with me being
extremely unattractive, overweight and
generally very unappealing to men, I still managed
to get the lads. Of course, there
obviously had to be a little something wrong with
them. It wasn't usually their looks that
were the problem, but they were always, in one way
or another, pretty screwed up in the
head. And, of course, the guys I had taste in were
all rather similar. After they'd had a
break up, it felt as if they where missing out on
something deadly crucial from that
relationship and that was always where I'd be
needed. They'd come to me with cheap
lines and pathetic promises flying out of their
arses, and me, as stupid as I am, would
willingly accept. And straight to the point they'd
get. They wouldn't even look into my face
once, as though the look of me would want to turn
them down. So, as an alternative, I
think they'd imagine a paper bag draped over my
head to submerge my dreadful look.
But, I would just stand, sit or even lie and just
try to enjoy as even they managed to
overcome the problem. I just couldn't, I always
felt cheaper than ever. Although I felt that I
was weak, too weak to say the word I so wished for
as I'd cry. But before they managed
to completely take me for a ride, I'd grab my
belongings, clothes and all, and leave. I
think what made me leave is that I managed to
realise I was being used as a toy, and
afterward, I would be quickly disposed of. I had no choice; I just had to leave. I think I
always made myself believe I was something more to
those lads, mostly to believe I was
wanted somewhere in the world, somehow would rise
my hopes. I hated it.
In that year before I made my extremely creative
therapeutic invention to keep me going, I
was ready to leave, forever. The pain just took
over, until one day. It wasn't exactly an off
day. I was enjoying the cool weather, ice cream
dripping from my hand as I slowly
nibbled, catching up on the daily "gossip" which was often spread by the 'cretins' in
the school. I stood inside the canteen waiting
impatiently to be served for a second
time. Five minutes I timed and was still waiting,
people barging in pushing their way
through me. I felt completely inferior. That's just
the way it was for me. Suddenly leaning
over me was a man. Dark hair, bulging brown eyes, a
perfect tan and an amazing smile.
Might I add, firm buttocks, so definite. Although he was far from what I'd usually be attracted to (if any), I couldn't help but pick up on his many physical adequacies. So I willingly looked on. I thought 'just a look wouldn't really hurt anybody.' Anyway, as he leaned over I turned my face towards him. He stared straight back as he reached out towards the section I tried to steer clear of but was always led into temptation. What could only be the cake section. Of all the cakes, he chose the fattiest, not that he needed to worry about that but still, it stunned me. As he glared at me, a pang of guilt shot across his face, "I'll eat an apple to make up for it," he sighed and made his way out the door.
That guilt didn't seem to last very long. Already
his fingers were covered in sweet, sticky jam
and his face in thick, white, snowflake cream. He
didn't pick up that apple. I think he said
that because have must have seen the disgust on my
face. I watched him leave as he
smothered his face in it and filling his mouth as
much he could. I felt instantly attracted.
About a week later the weather seemed to be hotter
than ever. The sun blazed down on
us, burning directly through the flesh. I could
feel the blood boil inside of me. I don't know
why, but I too seemed to have brightened up. A
cheesy smile always seemed to creep
upon my face. My stress and anger seemed to reduce
itself to almost nothing. I felt
more alive than ever. My friends seemed to
notice my change too. Every time I'd
make a joke or give off an enormous grin they would take a look at me, I don't think they
did it on purpose, but I could tell. But, without question, they enjoyed the merriment while
they could, and so did I. None of us knew how long
it was going to last, but we just hoped
and prayed it would stay around for quite a while.
One friend in particular, one that knew
me so well, maybe too well, she could also notice
the difference in me. Not just my
happiness, but something more. Something she also
knew well. She could see so far
beyond the surface, what was deep inside my soul, a
side I thought I had not yet
revealed. I was completely wrong.
Sitting at the folded table, we sat with our lunch.
My plate shoved in front of me, and the
whole time, the food remained untouched. My stomach
was screaming out in desperate
need of what was lying in front of me, but
strangely enough, I felt bloated. I was never like
that. Usually I was the first to start, and the
first to finish the remains of others' food. Of
course, one can probably tell, I was a big girl.
Waist, chin, hips, all huge. What was I
waiting for? A bigger plate?
My food soon went cold as it stood in front of me,
but I cared not. I suddenly realized
what I had been waiting for. I look up from the
table, and there he was. He raced past
the table without even giving me a glimpse. I could
feel the breeze violently push into my
face as he shot past. I closed my eyes and
breathed in so deeply. I could sense it,
his cologne that seemed to stay around for longer
than he did. It was amazing. I slowly
breathed out again and opened my eyes. His smell disappeared, and moments later he
returned. I could see him from the corner of my eye, I knew his every move, but
pretended not to be looking at him. He got closer and closer. I surprisingly dared give
off a hint of a smile as he looked towards me. Thankfully he smiled back. It was the most
beautiful moment of my life; for a second, I
forgot to breathe.
As I watched him quickly disappear in the distance,
I took short fast breaths trying to
regain it. I looked back at my friend who I thought
had noticed nothing. She, sitting
opposite me was staring searchingly into my mushy
eyes. She could see. I was guilty as
hell. She wouldn't stop looking into my face and I
couldn't ask her why, I was too afraid of
what I knew she would say. But I didn't have to,
she opened her mouth and as she
lowered he head with her chin barely touching the table top, she whispered to me, "You
like him, don't you?"
I looked back at her trying to block the truth from my face, but she already knew.
"Like who?" I innocently answered
back not actually requiring an answer.
I looked away from her feeling slightly flushed,
and sweat began to form on my forehead. I felt
a little guilty because I had lied to her, but I
felt I had no other choice. She looked at me
with contempt, as if I took her for a fool. I
couldn't lie to her. "Yeah. Yeah I do. I mean.
Yes, he's alright," I said as the words dripped out
of my mouth all screwed up. She gave
me a nod of consent and turned back towards the
others. She understood. As soon as
the words poured out, I knew I was holding
something back. He was more than all right.
It was something more. I was falling into a trap I always hoped I would never fall into,
knowing that when I hit the bottom, it would bruise
like a baseball bat repeatedly hitting
my thigh in exactly the same place. The strange
thing is, I actually loved the fall, and my
fear had already washed away. I was floating,
nothing was in my way, and it felt amazing.
The summer holidays soon came and the sun soon
faded. Usually I would cherish those
six weeks while I could, not wanting to ever go
back. This year was different. This year I
bawled and sobbed hoping it would start soon. I
ticked my calendar every time a day
went by, counting down how long it was I had to
wait. Each day I was reassured by the
one who always stood by me. Each day making me
become more and more excited.
Although I missed him, it began to hurt less and
the sobbing reduced. As if this was a
relationship in which the feelings where there, but
the actual seeing each other part had
died before it had even begun. I knew it was going
to change, it was just a matter of time
and great effort.
Those six weeks disappeared like a snail travelling
from Canada to England. But, the
wait made it feel so exciting and made me feel more
grateful than ever. As if the wait
would make seeing him so much more special. I
reached my destination and waited
impatiently for his arrival. My stomach was
churning the whole time, I was so nervous.
My hands shaking with tension. I tried not to, but
eyes my kept firmly out everywhere I
was in case he popped up from somewhere
unexpectedly.
Commotion broke out from behind me. It was so noisy
and was interfering with my
thoughts, I just had to turn around. Of course,
that noise was just some year eight lads
breaking into a minor fight. Those kids think they
are so much better now they're no
longer the babies of the school. They annoyed me
since then, always interfering with the
important things in life. I turned back. There he
was. The moment I stopped thinking, just
the split second, that was the moment he arrived. I wasn't expecting it; this isn't how I'd
planned it. It was all wrong. But I soon forgot about that, my pounding heart took over my
body and I subconsciously thought up a new plan. He
quickly passed me, giving me a
friendly nod as he did. "Morning," he said as he
stared with his beautiful sparkling eyes
waiting politely for a response. I, as stupid as I
was, became completely speechless, I
felt paralyzed, gave him the best smile I could.
He turned away and left. It felt, oh, I felt
my whole body tingle, and ache.
It came to second lesson; I sat down in the room,
noticing nothing. I was too phased in
my own thoughts, replaying in my head the little
session we'd had today. Repeating that
amazing smile he gave just to me. The perfect
glance he gave to me. My heart was
pounding just thinking about it. Just when I
thought my breathing couldn't be any worse, in
he came. He passed my table giving me a look as if
he was telling me he knew me, I
was proud of that. I had a feeling that he knew
exactly what I was thinking, I moved so
quickly when I saw him like a person doing something they shouldn't be and someone
unexpectedly walking in on them causing them to
jump out of their skin. I was sure he
knew, I had such a grin on my face, guilt was
written on my forehead. I watched him as
he made his way into the room and took his seat. I
couldn't believe it; he was in my
group. This was really the start of something wild.
As the weeks passed by, I got to know more little
about this Mr. Man. I always spoke to
him, but rarely about his personal life, more on
school life at our school. Turns out he was
quite a talented man in this subject. I even took a
leap of faith, as I became more
comfortable in being with him to do extra work as I
myself was not so good at the
subject. I don't know how I did it, but I managed
to think up an extraordinary amount of
reasons why we should've spent time together. My imagination ran wild. He, without
question, agreed and helped me in every way a man
can help a woman, well, almost.
Although he rarely revealed anything about his
personal life, I seemed to know more
about his life than he did. Every time I'd hear him
chatting, I'd always keep a close ear
out and listen to his conversations. Within weeks I
seemed to know his name, age,
where he lived, what he did in his spare time and
relationships he'd had. I never found
out this information to necessarily do anything
with it, I think I just wanted to create an
image in my head of what I thought he might be
doing or where he may be. I don't know
why, but it seemed to relax me more.
I sensed that, in the time we spent together, I was
growing on him almost as much as he
was on me. When we where together, I felt something
from him that I'd never felt before.
He seemed to look at me different from everyone
else. His eyes would always stare into
mine so searchingly, made me melt as they fixed
together. His amazing voice would
sound even more amazing when he spoke to me, as if revealing who he really was.
When we met down the corridor around a million
other kids, we would forget they were
there and only him and me would be in focus. We'd smile at each other but nothing
more, as if anything more would give away our naughty secret, (as if the smile didn't give
the game away anyway)! When our bodies
'accidentally' brushed against each other, he
seemed to find it as lip biting, breathtaking as
I did. As if, since we hadn't got as far as
that, was in a way our own form of foreplay, the
thing that would get us started. When it
happened, the feeling hit me, all over, making me
explode, so, wow, hmm. I felt it; he
was falling for me. Everything he seemed to do, I
thought was a way to get to me, and I
loved it. It made me happier than ever.
Of course, unlike the fairy tales, the happiness
had to come to an end. The months soon
vanished as did my smile, and my pride wore away. I
began to see changes, not in him,
but the way he was towards me. I couldn't help but
think he was in some way avoiding
me. The feeling when we were together was still
there and stronger than ever, but it
seemed as though he was keeping his distance. As if
there was a reason for why he
couldn't open up to me and fall into my open arms.
Fall asleep by my side and wake up
knowing I'll still be there, until death may part
us. I was so confused. I didn't know what to
believe. And why couldn't I confess my feelings to him? What was holding me back?
As I had planned to, I got to know a few more
things about the man I was dying for.
Unfortunately these were things I had never
dreamt, too drowned in my fetish to even
consider what unfair truth was hidden behind that
beautiful face, what truth I was
inevitably going to hear. I could see in her eyes
that the news wasn't good, the look on
her face as she told me, as if she already knew my
response. "He is married," she cried,
instantly rubbing my back, already trying to heal
the ache. "He has two children," she
continued regretting every vicious word that came
out of her mouth. She knew exactly
how I was feeling. We often helped each other, particularly with our feelings on what the
two of us liked to call 'our babies,' we were never
sure why, I guess so no-one knew who
we were talking about when we mentioned them.
I
could feel my whole life shatter
already. Everything I had created was already breaking down, taking me with it.
Everything I ever believed about 'us' suddenly made
absolutely no sense, although
everything was now so much clearer. I instantly
realised everything I believed happened
between 'us,' only happened to meet my own needs. I
believed exactly what I wanted to
believe. Believed we were something we obviously
weren't because I wanted it so
much. I had created a man that loved me dearly,
wanted to be with me more than
anything in the world. I forgot to admit to myself
that he actually needed to feel the same
way in order for us to be an 'us.' My creation was
so realistic, and was being destroyed
right in front of me. My head spun rapidly. I felt
so sick; my stomach was turning inside
out, agony.
So now, after a few months of drastic mourning,
I've begun to rise out of my bed and,
although my heart still feels the deadly sting,
I've started to accept it a little more. As if my
body has created a barrier or some type of
antibody, curing me from its awful disease.
Things seem completely different between the two of
us when we are together. I always
feel as though I was ignoring him in some way and
he always, by the way he looks at me,
seems apologetic. He probably isn't because he has
no reason to be sorry, but I can just
feel it. His eyes squint a little and look deep into mine as if to feel my pain. His voice
turns soft and slow. And his head leans to the side
longingly. Yep, there is something
there. No. No there isn't, I'm making it up. Oh but
look at his face. Nope, nothing. I
suddenly place my swollen head into my trembling
hands. My fingertips drastically dig
deep into the bone, tearing myself apart. The pain
was phenomenal as my head began
to frantically shake between my hands. I didn't
know what else to do. The anger and
confusion inside was dying to get out, it was all I
could do. I let myself go as a tear
streamed down my face past my cheeks, falling
quickly to the floor, dead. I don't know
what to do, was it really me convincing myself? Or
was it he, craving me? Craving to tell
me the truth? Ninety nine percent of me feels so
sure that he doesn't feel anything for
me. The lousy one percent that believes I still
have hope, seems to somehow take over
the whole of the ninety nine percent and rebuilds
the whole of my faith, making me feel
we shall be together.
Somehow, someway, I need to be told once and for
all. I know exactly what he'll say, and
the pain will be excruciating, almost unbearable,
but I need to hear the words "I don't love
you." I will then be able to mourn about something
that I actually have a reason to mourn
about, about something that really is there. A question of when, where and how I am
going to do this without causing problems between
what the two of us already have
together. A question that, up until it happens, will
always be left unanswered. No matter
what happens, on top of it all, I actually liked
the feeling, the pain, the hurt, the extreme
confusion. I enjoyed the chase, not knowing what
was going to stop me along the
endless road, or when it was going to end. I know I
won't get what I want, but all of it was
well worth it. He was well worth it. He will always
be with me.
I'll have you know, just one week ago, I
accidentally met up with a bloke I had shared a
few forgettable moments with in July 2002. From
what I remember, he was not a nice
guy. I saw him walking as he'd usually walk from
behind me.
"Watcha," he'd always call to me, and he did again, some things never change.
"Watcha," he said as I turned around. "You ok?" he asked which was very polite for him; I thought I'd give him a chance. We walked for a minute catching up on the past year.
"So, you seeing anyone yet?" he said, which I'd been waiting for the second I saw him.
"No," I replied believing I should've lied as I knew what was coming next.
"Well, what about me?" he suddenly blurted out, it truly was unexpected to me! As he finished his sentence he grabbed my hand, pulling me under a bus shelter so no one could witness his next vulgar move.
I looked at him right in the eyes with a face of slight mockery, "Um. I don't think so." I instantly turned releasing his hand and with my chin raised high in the air. He stared confusedly as I walked away. My weakness died right there. I felt I should, in some way, thank him for helping me, but something made me feel there was only one way of doing it, so I walked on, all the way. I was free. Some things don't change, but the best only gets better.
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