I spent all of Saturday staring at my front door, at the couple of holes I’d created. There was nothing but guilt that consumed me as I waited, expectant of some type of retribution. All week I’d waited, and I was somehow convinced the weekend would hold my punishment.
The sun rose on one side of my condo and set on the other, and nothing happened. There was no banging on the door, no phone calls. Nothing.
Silence.
It did nothing to assuage my feelings. Even the beast was silent. Being the unpredictable, emotional, violent side of me, he had begun to feel remorse, too.
Though even with the remorse was the itch. Soft at first, but as the day faded, it became almost unbearable. The notion that one time with her would be enough was obliterated the second I was inside her.
I didn’t sleep
