Lifesaver

The thing with players is that you don't learn how to identify them until they've broken your heart and trampled with the remains. Of course, that's too late as you have already lost your faith in love and in relationships. You already think that every guy is actually a two-faced bastard. You want to tell everyone to be careful, but no one believes you because they haven't had their hearts broken. Yet, you can still tell stories, cautionary tales in a way, about the guy who said he loved you but he didn't.

I met Mark at a bookstore. I was looking for something new to read, he was simply there. I don't even know what he was doing there as I have never seen him pick up a book. That should have probably been the first red flag, if someone thinks that novels are useless, run away from them as fast as you can. Yet, in that moment, all that I saw was a cute guy who, for some reason, seemed to be interested in me. And I needed attention. Alone and friendless in a new city, I was in need of a friend and Mark seemed like the perfect guy for the job. 

He took me to all the interesting places in town and to a few of its hidden gems. And, although I didn't really know much of his life, only the things he wanted me to know, I relied on him. He was my lifesaver, my only support away from my friends and family. And he knew it. One day, about four months after we met, I was waiting for him at the cinema, I waited for him for an hour, until he finally picked up the phone to tell me that something had come up and that he hadn't been able to call me. He told me he would make it up to me. And he did. And he kept being tender and sweet. And I started having feelings for him. Feelings that he seemed to reciprocate. He treated me like a queen, telling me that I'd fly away from him some day because I was too good for him. That made me scared of being a failure to him, but at that point I needed him. 

We started dating at some point, friendship blended into a relationship. And that was when he started canceling on me regularly. My lifesaver was letting me sink. Yet, every time I confronted him about it, he promised me he would change, that he had so much stress, that I took up so much time, that he couldn't lose me because I was perfect and he'd rather kill himself than see me with someone else. And I would forgive him because, for some reason, I loved him and I could see us having a life together. I endured this situation for eight months, telling myself it would get better. But it didn't, it only got worse. He spent most of his time with me trying to fix previous mistakes, but I had had enough. It had to end and I told him so. He begged me not to leave, not to do that to him. He asked me what was he supposed to do. He asked me if there was someone else. He begged for yet another opportunity. And he finally gave up. 

I saw him two weeks ago, barely a month after our break up. He was holding hands with another girl. I couldn't believe my eyes, mister "What-am-I-going-to-do-without-you?" was already dating someone new. It hurt because I still hadn't forgotten. I tried to keep him away from my mind, I told myself that we were doomed to fail, but it still hurt. I saw him again two days ago. I had gone to the bookstore, the same one where I met him, to pick something funny to read. And there he was talking to another girl, one that definitely was not the same one I had seen him holding hands with. I told myself not to jump into any conclusions, but he was doing exactly the same he had done when we met. He picked up the book she was holding, checked it out, and smiled tilting his head. I had to fight my impulse to go there and punch his stupid face. That girl I had seen him with, that girl he probably met and started dating as we were still together, a safety net of sorts, and he was trying to find his next one. My nails dug onto my palms as I clenched my hands into fists. The damned bastard! I left the bookstore in a hurry, my blood boiling with rage. 

I called him that same afternoon, I had found some of his stuff in my place and I wanted it gone. He was dry and told me to stop hurting him as if that were my favorite pastime. He also told me he was disappointed with my attitude and chastised me for five minutes before agreeing to come yesterday. And he came. I was waiting and ready when the doorbell rang. 

-Hi.- he said. 

-Hi, come in.- I was the image of coolness.- I made coffee.

-I only came to pick up my things.- he insisted.

-Let's be civilized about this, will we?- I replied, he shook his head, but came in.

He followed me into the kitchen where I poured him some coffee, no sugar like I knew he liked. I sat down, but he didn't accept my invitation for a seat.

-What do you want?- he said, aggressively, his coffee getting cold on the counter.

-Talk.

-We have done enough talking already.

-I saw you with a girl, the other day on the street. You have found yourself a new girlfriend surprisingly fast.- I said ignoring him.

-Sometimes people are lucky.- he mumbled.

-I also saw you at the bookstore, two days ago. I never understood why you went to the bookstore so often, taking into account you think novels are a waste of time. But now I know. You go there to pick up girls.

-What are you talking about?- he pretended to be offended, but I could see in his eyes that he knew exactly what I was talking about.

-I saw you talking to this girl. She was really pretty but looked a bit lost. Remember how when we met you picked up the book I had chosen and returned it to me with a smile? You did that same thing. And then it hit me, maybe the reason why you have found a new girlfriend this fast is because you were already dating her when we met. Maybe you were already dating someone when you met me. Maybe you're simply the biggest asshole in town.- he flinched at that.- At some point during our relationship, I even considered that maybe you were the one. And when we broke up I felt bad for you, because you told me you wouldn't be able to live without me, that you didn't even want to imagine me in someone else's arms. YOU TOLD ME YOU LOVED ME. Filthy liar.

-Stop being irrational.- Mark replied calmly.- I want a family, but I can't wait for women to be ready, I need to find one to be ready. You don't put all your eggs in one basket, do you?

He looked at me satisfied by his explanation.

-Bloody bastard.- I whispered as I stood up from my chair.

Some will say that what I did next was due to the fury consuming me, but it wasn't. It was cold and exactly what I needed to do. I walked up to him and looked him in the eye.

-Do you know how many people are you hurting? Can you even see it?

He shrugged his shoulders as if it had nothing to do with him. My hand flew to the counter and picked a very sharp knife. In one movement I slit his throat open and he collapsed onto the floor, trying to speak through the flow of blood that was choking him. Tears finally came to my eyes and I cried for the time lost thinking he really loved me.

New Year's Resolutions (That thing I keep doing for some reason)

Two years ago I started a tradition that consists on me saying I'll do a bunch of things during that year and then grading myself accordingly. As you can see from this post from last year, I failed 2014, which shouldn't come as a surprise. Now it's time to see how well did I fare on 2015 and make a list of things I'm not planning to fulfill on 2016.

Let's start the game. Here is the list of resolutions I made last year, in italics the comments on how well they fared.

1. Make reasonable New Year's resolutions.
Define reasonable. I don't think I did that one. 

2. Edit "Dream On" to the point it is publishable (For those of you who don't know it, "Dream On" is the name of my first novel).
Hahahahahahahaha I haven't touched it in a year and a half.

3. Finish "Best", and do something decent out of it (You can read the first draft on this blog, it's the short story that has been developing since December the 1st).
Double hahahahaha. I do have the idea on where I want it to go, but I still haven't finished it. And I have started a couple more, so there it goes. 

4. Enter some kind of sporting event (If it's possible at least one for each of the sports I regularly practice and/or a triathlon).
I ran a half-marathon and a 10k, so I guess this one is done. I've also started swimming in the sea, so there's that.

5. Read more (I won't give up).
YEEEEES! I did this one. Mostly by the end of the year, but it's done!

6. Sing solo again in front of public (Just because I'm a contralto it doesn't mean I can't do it).
I did that too. Only once, but there are so many songs I'd like to give a shot to, like some Adele (even if I'm light years away from her).

7. Enjoy more my friends.
Gosh, I've been a crappy friend, like a crappy crappy friend who has pushed friends away. Bad Laura!

8. Care less about what other people say (If I'm warm and I need to wear sandals, I'm not going to care about them dressing as if they were going to Siberia).
That's probably true, but I'm only going to award myself with half a point because I'm not sure how much of it was pretending that I didn't care.

9. Explore more (Not necessarily out of the country, but at every opportunity I have).

I did explore out of the country, but maybe not as much as I should have. That's another half-point. 

Drumroll, please. And the total mark for my 2015 resolutions is 4/9. And I fail again! I could have graded myself differently, probably, but I wanted to be fair with everyone (everyone being me (just in case you wondered which kind of professor would I be)). 

Now it's time to prepare the list of things I'm going to fail next year, and I'm completely blank. Let me think, I must have something lying around in my mind I could use.

1. Love myself more. Believe I deserve the things I have and pamper myself from time to time. 

2. Take time off from time to time. 

3. Keep reading. 

4. Keep writing. 

5. Try to train a bit more than I have this year. 

6. Learn something new. 

7. Be more open about my feelings. 

Okay, it's not many, but, taking into account I'm probably going to fail most of them, seven it's enough.

Eggnog

The office's Christmas party always had two things: good food and better alcohol. Patrick always said that his employees deserved the best, but the truth was the he wanted everyone to know how wealthy he was. Young, tall, and handsome, he was a ferocious CEO who had won his first million when he was barely twenty-two almost eight years ago. He was on a corner overlooking the whole party while he pretended to listen to Janet, his secretary. Melissa from marketing caught his eye, she was wearing a simple black dress and her blond hair up in a messy bun. She was fresh out of university, naïve, tender, perfect. Janet's high-pitched voice broke his train of thought.

-Yes, it's very interesting, Janet. But I need to talk to someone else, now.- he said in his deep baritone and with his best smile.

-Sure, Mr.... Patrick.- Janet remembered just on time that she was supposed to call him by his name.

He smiled again and smoothly sailed through the crowd until he planted himself next to Melissa.

-Enjoying the party?- he said as her colleagues stepped away.

She tilted her head and smiled. Her smile was sweet, her teeth white behind her red lips. She had a beautiful smile. Patrick had decided it, she had to be his.

-Want some eggnog?- he offered.

-Sure! I'd love some!

He slipped away and was almost immediately back with two cups. Handing one to her, he took a sip of his. She wrapped her hand around hers and tasted it. Their night went in a blur, they talked about everything, Melissa had that warm feeling of alcohol in her and was feeling very uninhibited. She stared at him and felt the need to kiss him.

When the party was over he insisted on her sleeping at his place, she clearly wasn't in any condition to drive. She agreed, feeling too drunk for the amount of alcohol she had consumed. He helped her into his car and out as soon as they arrived at his mansion. A large pool reflected the modern glass building, Melissa couldn't imagine how much would that house have cost. He half-dragged her across the garden, as she stumbled with her own feet.

-Carry me.- she mumbled, and he obliged.

He carried her into his own bedroom, and she seemed to wake up. She was still very drunk, but she understood.

-No.- Melissa said, with a feeble voice.

-Shh, you will enjoy it, silly.- he said as he took her dress.

She soon was stark naked, failing to defend herself. She covered her breasts with one arm and her vulva with another one, but her strength was greatly diminished and it was no match for him. He undressed even more quickly and jumped on her, forcing her arms aside. He was hard and penetrated her forcibly, as she complained in pain while repeating "no, no, no" until she passed out from the pain. He kept trusting until he came and rolled over to sleep.

His head felt heavy when he woke up, he stretched only to find he could not move his arms or legs. His eyes flew open, Melissa was in front of him, wearing the same dress she had worn the day before, her hair down and wild, wild as her eyes.

-Someone has been a naughty boy, spiking eggnog and raping women.- she said.

He looked up at his wrists and saw that he had been tied up with Christmas lights.

-Bitch!

-Hmmm, I might need to cut that tongue out.

-Fucking bitch!- he shouted again.

-You're boring. Stupid, jerk, and boring. Let's finish this.

She took a knife she had on a table nearby and played with it. She caressed his skin with the cold metal and goosebumps raised on it.

-At first I thought I could cut your cock off, you seem to think it's the best part of your body. But then I got curious, I wanted to see if you really have a heart. What do you say about discovering it together?

-Crazy bitch!

-Whore, slut. You really need a thesaurus.- Melissa replied.- I'd give you one for Christmas, but... you know. Anyway, don't worry, I have given you some drugs so it won't hurt much, at first. They were in the cabinet at your bathroom, you seem to be well stocked.

The knife cut his skin, blood trickling down his thorax. She peeled the skin away, showing the fat underneath and the muscle under that. The muscle was a bit harder to cut and Patrick started to scream.

-You either stop screaming or I'll cut your tongue off.- Melissa menaced him. He stopped immediately.

She worked through the muscle, picking on the insertion points. Finally, she was able to pull the pectoral muscles away, the bloody ribcage underneath. Between the ribs, she saw the heart beat, fast, fluttering.

-Oh, you do have a heart.- she said innocently.

He was delirious, too weak to even speak. She glared at him.

-Now that we have settled it down, let's make sure you never force yourself on anyone ever again.

She gripped the knife and, slowly, she pushed it against the beating piece of meat that was Patrick's heart. Blood rushed through the wound as life escaped Patrick.

Volcano

That trip had been her idea. Bast and Jan had been dating for almost two years and it was the first time that they went somewhere together, money had been tight. When they won the lottery Bast decided that they should spend all the money on a trip. Jan agreed and the next summer they flew to Hawaii. Sun, sand, sea, seemed all that they needed.

Bast had been quite distant for some time and Jan had thought that maybe she was overworked, but never asked her how she was feeling. Bast wanted to find a way to finish it all, she was tired of Jan, of his whining about how he was so unlucky, of his two-facedness and his general assholessness, of how he said he cared about her but never shared anything. She saw him staring at her while sitting on the towel on the beach and she almost wanted to get out of the water and punch him on the face.

That first night on the Island of Hawaii they had shared dinner under the stars. Bast had stayed silent for most of the night.

-Bast.- Jan said finally.- Are you going to finish that dessert?

Bast had hoped for him to ask her about what was in her mind. "A penny for my thoughts" she told herself.

-No, you can have it.- it was very unlike Bast not to finish her dessert, but that was another thing Jan decided to ignore.

-Jan,...- she said as she pushed the plate across the table.- This is not working.

-What do you mean?- he said stopping the spoonn halfway to his mouth.

-You never listen to me, you never share anything for me, it's always about you, but only about the good things. I'm fed up of hearing you say how much of a good person you are. I'm fed up of you being an asshole.

-You don't mean that. You're tired. We will talk tomorrow. Remember, we are going to Mauna Loa.

Bast stormed out, she hated it when he treated her like that. She walked up and down the beach, breathing in and out with the stars as only company. Jan was already sleeping when Bast returned to their room. She undressed and lay on the king size bed as far away as she could.

Sunshine woke her up and she kept her face expressionless until they arrived to the top of the volcano. The views were breathtaking, the blue of the ocean stretching for miles, the green of the forests, the other islands. And the sulfuric smell of molten lava. Jan approached her to hug her, but Bast avoided him.

-Bast,...

-NO!- she walked closer to the edge of the crater, warm air flushing her cheeks, vaporizing the tears.

-Bast,...- he started again.

-Listen to me, Jan. Listen to me for a second. I can't stand it anymore, I don't love you. I'm tired of you, stay the fuck away from me.

He approached her.

-You don't know what you're saying. It's not you who is talking, I know. I'm your boyfriend, remember? I know you.

-You don't know me. Stop patronizing me. Leave. Me. Alone.

-But I love you. And you love me, I know you do.

The fulgor of the molten lava shone on Bast's eyes.

-Leave. Me. Alone.- she bellowed as she shoved him into the volcano.

Dig

The earth was soft and humid. The spade cut through it easily. Gaia shoveled some of it aside as she started digging her hole. Memories from her childhood came flooding. "What's in the center of the earth?" she had asked her mother as a five-year-old, she had told her something about molten rocks and an inner metallic core, showing her some drawings made by scientists. Yet Gaia wanted to see it for herself, she had to see it. She became obsessed with it, but everyone told her it was impossible. The more she was told it couldn't be done, the more she wanted to do it. Ignoring everyone, she saved enough money to buy one hundred spades and some ladders and one spring day she got out on her yard to start digging.

That first day she focused on making a wide hole, one that was barely one foot deep but that covered half of her yard. On the second day, she barely advanced another foot deeper. It took her several weeks to have a hole deep enough to use the ladder to get out of it. Summer came and went and by winter, the hole was almost ten-stories-deep. It took her years to dig deep enough but one day she made it. By then she had installed artificial lightning and a pulley system to get in and out. That day the floor gave way when she shoveled. A large cave opened underneath her feet, warm air rushing out. The shadows of the flames danced on her face. She looked inside the cave, flames were all over and a dark figure was sitting on a chair. The figure signed at her to get inside the cave.

Gaia climbed down and walked through the fire. The figure was still sitting on his throne, its face in shadows, its eyes red as coals. She stopped in front of it.

-Welcome.- his voice resonated through the cave.- You reached the center of the earth.

-Who are you?- she asked.

-Lucifer.

-Cool. Can I sit now?

-WHAT?- Lucifer couldn't believe his ears.- You just met the King of Hell and you want to sit?

-Hey! I dug all the way down here! How many people have done that? Get out of that chair!- Gaia protested forcing Lucifer out of the throne.

Lucifer stared at her, unable to believe it, as Gaia sat on the throne and dismissed him.

-Hell has a new queen.- she announced laughing.

Coses que mai compartirem. Things we'll never share.

So, this is going to be a special story as it will have both the Catalan and the English version. Those who know me are aware I hardly ever write in Catalan, but it felt wrong not having this one in my own language.

Estimat Biel, 

He estat esperant la teva arribada durant molt temps, planificant cada segon, no et pots ni imaginar fins a quin detall he arribat a pensar en totes aquelles coses que hàuriem pogut fer junts. Tot per res, per què no vindràs. 

No vindràs i ara jo em dedico a passejar per la ciutat pensant en les coses que no compartirem. En com mai podrem anar al carrer Petrixol a gaudir de l'olor de xocolata desfeta. En com no veuré el reflex dels llums de Nadal en els teus ulls foscos. En com no passarem hores a Sant Felip Neri asseguts al costat de la font. En com no buscarem música pels carrers del Gòtic o anirem al mercat de menjar de Santa Maria del Pi. En com no ens meravellarem junts davant dels vitralls de Santa Maria del Mar. Ni passejarem pel Born de nit desprès de la pluja per a acabar al Fossar de les Moreres veient la flama ballar en la foscor de la nit. Tampoc anirem al Passeig Marítim els dies que faci vent mentre la mar, capriciosa, juga a xocar contra els trencaonades. 

Hi ha tantes coses que haguèssim pogut fer. Tantes esperances posades en la teva arribada que van desaparèixer en el moment en que vaig sentir que deixaves de moure't dins meu. Tantes llàgrimes vesades. Però les llàgrimes no van servir per tornar-te a la vida i, ara, mai arribaràs i tot el que em queda és una llista de coses que mai compartirem. 

Mare. 

Dear Biel, 

I've been waiting for you for a really long time, planning every second, you can't even imagine the detail at which I have thought about the things we could have done together. Uselessly, as you will never come. 

You will never come and I wander around the city thinking about the things we will never share. How we will never be able to go to the Petrixol Street to enjoy the scent of hot chocolate. How I will never see the reflection of the Christmas lights on your dark eyes. How we will never spend hours sitting by the fountain in Sant Felip Neri. How we will never look around for live music around the streets in the Gòtic quarter or how we will never go to the farmers' market in Santa Maria del Pi. How we will never stare in awe at the colored glass in Santa Maria del Mar. Or how we will never walk around at night in the Born quarter after the rain to end up watching the dance of the fire against the darkness of night in the Fossar de les Moreres. We will never go to the Passeig Marítim on windy days while the fickle sea playfully crashes against the breakwaters. 

There are so many things we could have done. I had some many hopes placed on your arrival that vanished the moment I felt how you stopped moving inside me. So many tears. But tears couldn't bring you back to life and now you'll never arrive and all I'm left with is a list of things we'll never share. 

Mother. 

Blackout

A loud explosion woke Zahra up, she had been deeply asleep and it took her some time to remember she was safe and away from the war that was ravaging her country. She sat up on her new bed with linens that smelled of lavender and sunshine. Her hand automatically seeked the switch on the wall, but the light didn't turn on. She opened the top drawer of her night drawer and felt around until her fingers stumbled with the flashlight she always kept there. War teaches a girl things, Zahra thought. Barefooted, she walked to the kitchen and checked the distribution pannel, everything was in the right place. She looked out of the window and saw that all the lights were out. She smiled, blackouts happened even in peaceful countries. It was comforting to be in the darkness and not afraid of bombs. 

The cold hit her on the face. She pulled the scarf up her nose and put her gloves on. Zahra looked up the sky and saw thousands of stars. There was no light from the moon, yet the city streets were not pitch-black but a dark grey. Some candles flickered from behind closed windows on her way down to the beach. The sea was waiting for her, its waters lapping on the sand, its waters black as coal, yet shining with the light of the newfound stars. She sat on a bench and looked at that sea that also washed on her country's shores. The sea that had swallowed all her family. The sea that had taken so much away from her, but she could not find the strength to hate. 

The Blackest of Black.

Black. Black hair, black eyes, black nails, against a snow white skin. Her eyelashes were heavy with black mascara, a thick line of black eyeliner framed her eyes. She was wearing black leather pants and a black thight tank top that showed a generous white-skinned cleavage. She was wearing no jacket, despite the freezing temperatures and she didn't seem to notice, the white skin of her arms contrasting against the black of her outfit and the night. 

There was only one thing about her that wasn't either black or white. Her lips were red like blood and she wore a smirk on her face that allowed the white teeth underneath to show. People gave her way as she walked down the streets her long black hair cutting the air leaving a lingering trace of perfume. 

She owned the city and she knew it. Lights would go green as she needed to cross the street. People stared at her as she passed by. Where was she headed? Who was her victim? 

As she arrived to the main square a young man stood up from a bench. He was thin and tall and he was wearing ill-fitting jeans and a plaid shirt tucked inside them. Thick glasses framed his eyes. She walked straight towards him as the crowd held their breath. Just a second before crashing against him she stopped and slapped him across the face. 

-You fucking cheating bastard!- she screamed before turning around and leaving. 

People gathered around that scrawny guy, who seemed such an unlike match for such a formidable lady, in surprise. She kept walking confidently withher poker face on until she was far enough. Then, a smirk appeared on her face; it was always a pleasure to help out a friend.