Feedback: I would love you forever and ever...
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Rating: R for adult language
Summary: Lilah tells it all... well sorta.
Disclaimer: I just took the pretty dollies out to play... I swear
I'll put 'em back.
Distribution: Erm... if you want it, ask.
Author's Note: This is my first Lilah fic, and to top it all of it's
a POV so I hope it's alright.
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Sometimes I wish you could see me when you aren't around. I'm not the
person you think I am, no not even close to that. I'm not the cold,
empty bitch everyone sees. Not that I'm willing to drop the heartless
facade anytime soon. I guess you'll just have to trust me when I say
that I can display a range of emotions. Probably some your darling
Texan couldn't even begin to comprehend. Then again, trust is a funny
thing when it comes to you and me. To trust someone, you actually
have to give a damn about them. You wanna know the best part? I trust
you.
Oh if you could only hear what I'm thinking right now. I can imagine
your smirk, that annoyingly handsome smug grin that makes me think
I'd do anything for you. You'd probably tell me how ridiculous I am,
how what we're doing is only drowning our sorrows in each other's
arms. And at first, I would have probably agreed with you, but that's
one of those things about me you'll never know. I really can change.
Sometimes I wonder why of all the women in Los Angeles, you decided
to let me into your bed. Maybe it was convenience, or maybe you just
wanted to hurt them like they had hurt you. Sleeping with the enemy
would get a rise outta them, if they knew anyway. Too bad we're doing
it like this. You're the kind of guy I could've brought home to mom
and dad, despite that little tinge of darkness around your heart.
There are times when I hate you. Those are the worst times, when
things are looking lower than low and I'm wallowing in self-pity.
That's when I wish that you and I could actually talk. Things
wouldn't bother me so much if I didn't have to hold them to myself
all the time. Do you ever feel it? That pressing weight on your
chest, so heavy that it feels like your heart and lungs are about to
implode. I don't like feeling like that, so weak that maybe, just
maybe, I'm losing some control. You wouldn't understand though,
control is like your middle name. Except when that damn Texas slut is
around.
Does this sound like the bitter ramblings of a jealous woman? Well,
maybe it is but pretend that I didn't say that because I do not get
jealous of anything or anyone. I just don't know what she's got that
I don't. C'mon, my tits are twice the size of hers and she's got the
body of a twelve-year-old boy. Maybe a stick figure� I just can't
decide.
Oh yeah, and what the hell gives you the right to lay in my bed,
sprawled across my silk sheets? I don't remember saying you could
sleep there with your arm tucked under your head, your soft, even
breath warming my cheek. Actually I'm pretty sure I told you when we
were done you could get your ass out. That side of the bed is
reserved for a man who gives a fuck. If I ever find him that is.
I think I've got you figured out, you know? I know what you strive
for, that unobtainable goal you've been fighting your way towards for
years. You want to be the hero, the knight in shining armor like the
rest of Angel Investigations' male population. I hate to tell you,
but you're never gonna be what they need. You don't get that though,
do you? You think that if you can save one person, just one lost
soul, they'll welcome you in with open arms. Sorry to say, you picked
the wrong bitch. My soul's been on a permanent vacation for years.
That's another one of those things you don't understand. If I wanted
to be saved, maybe I'd let you, but I'm happy where I am. Yeah, I
realize how funny that sounds, but it's true. Even though we cause
each other immeasurable amounts of pain, I'm still happy. Happier
than I'd been in a while anyway.
So you should really stop taunting me with that comfortable smile and
content little sigh because I know you're envisioning someone else's
body pulled tight against your chest. I can tell it's the anorexic
skank dancing around behind those sleep-encrusted lids. You know, if
I believed in God, I'd be praying to him for the strength to kick
your butt outta my apartment `cause at least then you'd know it was
me you're with. Even though Lindsey and I fought constantly, at least
he knew that it was me he was screwing instead of Darla.
Yeah, that's right, Lindsey and I. Even weirder than you and me I
think, but that's what happens when you're spending way too much time
at work and he's not getting any from the vampire whore. The biggest
difference is that I didn't trust him, not like I trust you. Lindsey
would've stabbed me in the back if someone had handed him a knife. I
have to believe that you're different. If not, what's left for me to
believe in?
I never asked to believe in anything. That's just one of those little
curses you put on me through our `relationship'. I should hate you
for it, for changing me even a little. But I don't. I have to think
that maybe someday you'll give up on her and realize that they're
never gonna call it quits. A relationship like that lasts forever,
whether they want it to or not. Damn it, here comes that jealousy
again. Why can't you feel that way about me? Maybe it's because I'm
the evil lawyer bitch from hell and loving me would mean giving up
any of that light you have left in your soul. If that's what it comes
down to, don't. You wouldn't be the same man without the hope that
you can be better someday.
Till then, we can keep doing that thing that we do. You know, loving
in the dark where only the streetlights and stars can see. You look
better when the yellow city lights stream in and the shadows fall
across your face. At least then I can't see the pain. Can't see the
smile on your face as you dream you're with her. There's only one
thing you should know before I fall into that deep sleep that, let's
face it, I so desperately need. You're not gonna believe me when I
say this, but I think I love you.
End
Fiction