Bit Into Your Love {SAPPHIC}

🩸Fangs (pt.55)🩸

‼️TRIGGER WARNING: This chapter includes negative and insecure talk about bodies and self-harm scars‼️

When I awoke, my head was cloudy with foggy thoughts. I hadn't slept well and neither had Cleo.

She'd taken us both downstairs the previous night to watch TV because of it. She'd said she knew neither of us were going to be sleeping, so she'd watch strange movies with me, because I loved strange movies. That was all until I fell asleep in her lap on the sofa. She had to carry me up to bed.

My main thought: Grief was strange.

I didn't know somebody could feel grief about their body until I'd gone through pregnancy. It was the thing that had given me all that pain in my lower abdomen and all those stretch marks, stinging headaches and a rise in drinking coffee, less sleep and more dark circles.

Suddenly, my hair was ugly, my skin was ugly, my eyes were ugly, my curves were ugly.

Cleo said she liked me, she told me I was pretty. But there's always that feeling when you know someone was just saying something because they were supposed to, that it'd just be rude and improper manners if they didn't. She was my girlfriend, she was technically supposed to call me pretty.

For some reason, I kept thinking back to that one day we'd all almost died. The day I'd killed Adian. Although, it wasn't the death part, surprisingly; it was the things he'd said.

About all the bite marks on my neck, on my wrists. That giant scar on my neck where Gwenevieve had practically chewed my flesh off.

He'd told me that Cleo had trained me to pretend she was normal.

I never thought the words that had come out of his mouth would put me in a crisis about my body.

But no one really expects grief until it comes washing over you until you can't breathe. Because it does come in waves. Some days it drowns you, other days, the tide falls out.

A lot of people had coping strategies, some listened to music, took a walk, painted, wrote poems, talked to someone. I just slit my arms.

That was what self-harm was, at least to me, a last resort and not having a better coping strategy. The antidepressants had helped somewhat, the new medication I'd been taking for a while was strong, but sometimes, I'd still get those tiny voices in the back of my head.

So Cleo would tell me she loved me, how she loved my eyes, and my skin, my body. How she loved my arms the most because they were symbolism of everything I'd gone through and survived. And when she put it like that, I guess it was pretty cool.

A little while later, Cleo came into the room, excitedly tossing a box onto the bed.

"Good morning, babydoll."
"You're in a good mood," I huffed.

"Yes I am! I wish you had told me you had online stores, Marine,"
"I never have to go outside again!"

Cleo ripped her package open.

I never knew someone could be so excited about a package, especially when she'd had the horrible night we'd experienced.
"You just now found out about online shopping?"

She just looked up at me with a stern look.

I threw the tiny octopus plushie at her that I'd bought a long time ago. In all honesty, I'd stolen it from Melanie. But she didn't even realize it was gone.

"What about him?"
"Be quiet," she huffed, then looked back down at the box.

"Why is this wrapped so fancy? I just ordered some crackers."