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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 na´ve. 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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