Title: How To Love
Author: Angelina
Email: angelina2006@hotmail.com

I lie here looking at you and I wonder if anyone has ever loved you. I don’t love you. I use your body to bring me release. But I don’t love you. I wonder what brought you to this lonely place. Was it like me? One single choice you made. One mistake. One betrayal. What was it that condemned you to a life without love, without feeling?

You’re beautiful. Your body is exquisite. Sometimes when my hands are on you, I feel unworthy. Like I shouldn’t be touching such a thing of beauty. Then I remember who you are and it passes. I’ve licked every inch of you but I’m not sure what colour of eyes you have. And I have even less idea of what’s behind them.

I know there’s a mind like a trap. You don’t miss a trick. You’re intelligent. Yet you’re still here, in my bed. Without a friend.

In another world, you could be Cordelia. A beautiful, young, intelligent woman like you. You could have friends who genuinely care about you. You could be fighting the evils of the world. You might give a damn about something. Not in this world.

Did your parents love you? You’ve mentioned your mother in passing. Did she hold you when you were little and tell you that you were pretty and special? Were you Daddy’s little princess? Did you have friends at school? Did you gossip with the girls? Were all the boys after you?

Did Wolfram and Hart do this to you? Did they take away your ability to love? Squeezing away your humanity until nothing remained. You can’t have friends there. You spend all your time watching your back and stabbing others in theirs. There’s no room for trust.

And when the trust goes, that’s it. Trust is everything. I don’t trust you. And you don’t trust me. We co-exist in the same living space for periods of time. And that’s a very sad thing to say. I wish I could love you. I’d like to think you knew what it was like to be loved.

I know I’ve been loved. My mother loved me. Still does. And I suppose that in his own way, my father loves me too. He just doesn’t know how to express it. Terribly reserved and English. Can’t show affection. Wouldn’t do to show a weak, feminine emotion like that. But I’m sure he loves. I know that Angel and Cordelia and Gunn and Fred all loved me. We were friends. Comrades in arms. They loved me. And I them. I don’t know if I love them still, because I’m not sure if I still know how to love.

I run my hand down your bare side in the dim light and you shiver, burying deeper under the covers.

I hope you’ve been loved.

END