Sometimes

Written by: Mint Witch
Author's Website






Summary: I simply had to find some way to deal with Dead Things. It’s been driving me insane.
Disclaimer: The show Buffy the Vampire Slayer and all of it's characters belong to Joss, Mutant Enemy, & Fox Prod.
Feedback: mintwitch@yahoo.com




Should I write him, tell him on paper all the things I can’t say to his face? The things that I can’t say out loud? Would he understand a letter more than what my body tells him? I can barely speak; I can’t write. Once, I liked a poem. Is that excuse enough? What does he want to hear?

I do like him, sometimes. Maybe. Or maybe not.

How am I supposed to know? The girl I used to be, she might have known. I think she may have even liked him. But I don’t know that girl anymore; I am not her. She died. I remember her dying.

So who was this person that he needs to like him? Did he know her? Did he like her? Did he love her? How did he know?

I know one thing. This me that I am now, I only know one, single thing: When he touches this body, it feels. It feels something. And I get to feel it too. I want us, me and the body, to feel it again and again.

Sometimes, I like him. And sometimes, I hate myself. I don’t look at myself in the mirror. Would I be there, have a reflection? And if I did, would I recognize the person looking back at me. This brain knows words for all this. She went to college. Why can’t I use her words?

I knew a word last night. Staring at the ceiling, it came to me. Broken. I’m not wrong. I’m broken. Everyone is trying to put me back together, but all the King’s horses and all the King’s men can’t put Buffy back together again. They keep trying, though, don’t they? C’mon Scoobies, let’s fix the Buffster, put her back together in our own image! Will the real Buffy please step forward?

Would the real Buffy have let him do those things to her? Would she have craved his soft, heavy lips against her ribs? Would his fingernail scratching up her ankle have made her tense and wet? Would thoughts of his tongue get her off in the employee restroom?

Maybe. I do, sometimes. And I think I remember that the person I used to be might have thought about it once or twice. She was and I still am the Vampire Slayer. I am drawn to them, to the monsters. I think of them all the time. In anyone else it would be paranoia. They live in my head, in my life. Having one in my mouth, my cunt, my ass… it’s just normal. As normal as killing them. Hunting them. Hitting him. Sitting on him, tense and wet, it felt the same. The same as fucking him, as liking him. As hating myself.

I do like him, sometimes. And maybe, sometimes, I don’t hate myself.
 



The End




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