Page 12 of The Death of Kisses

“Fuck, Anna.” I hissed as my thoughts marveled around her, no longer my fingers but hers. Pouring every ounce of focus into the maddening obsession that had formed in my mind I worked myself over. My body was tightening with every inhale as my brain struggled with the commands. The pained moan seeped from my lips as I cried my release. The orgasm shooting through me with such ubiquitous trembles I latched onto her leg steadying myself against the dizzying bliss.

Once I calmed myself enough to think clearly and to pull up my clothes, I took my gloved fingers now coated in my own release and painted them across her lips as if I’d just applied lipstick to her soft plump pink lips.

She shimmered under the gentle embrace of the moonlight, radiating a brilliance that took my breath away. My gaze swept across the room, anchoring on a tiny bottle of red nail polish—an irresistible splash of cherry red that seemed to pulsate with a life of its own, whispering, “Notice me.” With tentative, tender steps, I reached out and grasped it, feeling the electric pulse of desire and longing resonate deep within me.

I smiled as I painted the letters across her nails and blew them dry, once I’d finished I pulled the covers back up her body and slipped out the window. A cool sense of satisfaction to my thoughts as I walked home.

9

RED PAINT

Present day - October 16 - Town of PineRidge - Population 5025 - 18 yr old

Something unusual stirred within me as I slept—an overwhelming, almost miraculous sense of rest, as if I had been wrapped in an endless embrace of peace that lasted for eternity. But beneath that comforting veil, a restless ache gnawed at my soul, a piercing voice reminding me that this serenity was too perfect, too hollow. An inexplicable, haunting feeling jolted through my core, warning me that something was undeniably, profoundly wrong.

Yawning deeply I sat upright. My mouth tasted salty, yet there was an unexpected sweetness – like the lingering, comforting flavor of caramel-coated salty pretzels that still whisper of indulgence and nostalgia.

Rubbing my sleepy eyes, my blurred vision caught on the red nail polish that marred my left hand. I blinked profusely, clearing away the sleep that clung to my eyelids and stared down at my hands as the polish came into view. A gasp tumbled out as a creeping chill ran rampant down my backside.

Starting on the left pinky and ending on my left thumb spelled the phrase I own u.

I stared, blinked and then stared again.

No. Absolutely not. Savannah had done this before. Not the message obviously, but she’d painted my nails while I slept during a sleepover. Maybe I fell asleep with my phone in my hand. Did I get drunk? Maybe⁠—

My stomach twisted. I hadn’t been drinking, hadn’t left the house. I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to deny the awakening truth, but a creeping reality seeped into my very bones, stirring an unsettling awareness within me. My mind catapulted back to last night, to that shadowy figure cloaked in darkness, standing silently outside the window with an intensity that sent chills down my spine. I had dismissed it as nothing, a fleeting shadow in the corner of my mind. But as I stare at my hand now, a crushing certainty grips me—this un-welcomed gift, this sinister presence, was theirs from the very start. An eerie, undeniable truth that my heart wouldn’t ignore. I threw back the covers and my ankle was marred with a handprint. Panic seized me as I began looking around my room for any signs of change. Clothes that I had laid out were replaced with something else. Maybe Dad came in and did laundry? My hairbrush I could have sworn I left on my nightstand was now resting on my dresser and my stomach soured. I rushed towards the bathroom as the nausea burned the back of my throat. Clinging to the porcelain I vomited. Someone was definitely here, they — oh god. I twisted out of my shirt standing up as I checked myself over in the mirror like I was avidly searching for ticks. Anything that would indicate that a parasite had gained entry.

I ran my fingers through my pubic hair, nothing seemed different and my pussy didn’t feel sore, as my fingers skimmed lower towards my clitoris I gasped out jerking my hand away. That— swollen and yet so sensitive. My mind raced trying to come to terms with the reality that someone had touched me. Violated me while I slept. Why didn’t I wake up?

My hands latched onto the countertop, its cool unwavering surface giving me the strength I needed. Dad would have said report it to the police, let them handle it. But they failed to save Mom, when it mattered most. As if on instinct my hands probed my neckline finding the tiny flower still poised at my throat. I sighed deeply.

Flicking on the hot water I let the steam curl around my senses as I took one last look at myself in the mirror. The scalding water lit my senses on end, I welcomed the scorching heat as it burned away any traces of the unwanted touch of a stalker. Could you even call them a stalker if they escalated to assault? I shook my head furiously as tears pricked my eyes. I cannot break down, it’s not my fault.

But as soon as the thought left my mind my eyes welled with tears and the sob wrangled its way out of my throat like a bleating sheep. My head leaned against the wall as the stream of water fell around me cocooning me in its warm embrace. My hands latched onto mom’s necklace like a lifeline. I had been pouring every shattered fragment of my broken, battered soul into that tiny, cold metal ornament, clutching it as if it were my only lifeline. But now, oh God, now that the crushing, overwhelming tide of those emotions crashed down on me with relentless fury—ten times heavier, ten times more devastating—I was utterly lost, drowning in a storm of pain so fierce and all-consuming, I couldn't tell where I ended and the anguish began.

The shower water ran frigid before I peeled myself off the shower tiles and stepped off. The black nail polish replaced the red moments later as my body dripped with water from the bathroom to the bedroom. I looked at the outfit set out like a straitjacket, and threw it in the corner of the room. My favorite pair of boots went with it and I meticulously pulled out the clothes I wouldn’t dare wear anywhere but to those holiday Church gatherings. So modest that I might as well be dead.

I clung to the long sleeves and khaki slacks wielding the clothes as my last layer of defense, I had almost made it to the door, before I turned around.

Throwing on a normal outfit I swiped my phone off the nightstand clearing every message and pulling my keys from the hook off the door. Three hours late to school was great.

10

CHARLOTTE TRUSTS US

9 months ago - January 12 - Town of Coldwater - Population 1250 - 17 yrs old

Winter break had come and gone in a blur of sugar, bad television and Charlotte refusing to leave my side for more than twelve consecutive hours.

We’d watched every season of Glee that Netflix had available. I've devoured so much junk food that I could probably give a small country a heart attack. Somewhere between Christmas and New Year’s I’d almost convinced myself that nothing had changed.

The first day back from the break and everyone was too tired to function, a lot of us suffered from the hours of sleep lost over the break. God I felt like the walking dead. I pulled my long sleeve down around my wrist, double checking the large purpling bruise wasn’t visible. It was the first time I actually went home in weeks. Dad was drunk, like really drunk. As soon as I crossed the threshold, his icy grip clung desperately to my arm, sending a shiver down my spine and igniting a rush of fear and helplessness within me. Where the fuck have you been? I blinked, my heart pounding as I focused on the combination for my locker. My fingers fumbled over the final number, panic gripping me as I had no choice but to start all over again. Don’t let him win. I swiped at the sweat beading across my brow and my eyes caught on the tall form walking down the middle of the hall. Lee.

I rushed to open my locker before he spotted me and cursed under my breath when the metal refused to budge. “Fuck it,” I muttered turning around.

“Lilly!” Charlotte’s voice caught my ear and I pivoted on my heels. Charlotte shoved passed Lee and smiled at me. Lee’s eyes found mine across the hall as Charlotte stepped forward. Damn it. He’s really back.

Charlotte started talking about something. I had no idea what because Lee was standing at the other end of the hallway. I blinked refocusing on her wanting to drive a wedge between Lee’s heated stare and my lingering thoughts.