POURING OUT THE PAIN

Like a zombie, I drop to his firm, broad chest, and he doesn't waste any chance in wrapping his strong protective arms around me, rubbing my back with a soothing sensation. I uncontrollably soak his white tee with my tears. I freely weep, snuggling up to him without minding that he is a stranger. Hugging him so tight like he is my savior and sampling in the peace that he is bleeding. His warmth is something I needed so much. I appreciate his lull and savor his caresses until his magic brings my sobs to a stop. I could lie on his comfortable chest the whole day, listening to his soothing heartbeat, but I pull myself away slowly, making a stop in front of him, his arms remaining on my waist.


Just how much was I holding in, huh? I made a mess on his tee. At least he has his blue, unbuttoned denim to hide that mess. I feel bad, though.

"Sorry," I mumble, running my palms over my face.

"It's alright. Don't worry."


"No. It's not right. I shouldn't have."

I clamp my mouth shut as another wave of tears threatens to spill forth, my heart sinking deeper into a pit of despair. With a heavy sigh, I shut my eyes once more, seeking solace in the darkness, only to feel his hands gently cradle my face once again.


What am I becoming? A crying baby? A pitiful weakling? Despite my best efforts, I can't seem to rein in these tears. I let the weight of everything that I had been keeping inside spew out in waves of tears.

"Ellie! Look at me, Ellie!" His voice, soft and soothing, cuts through the haze of my despair, urging me to obey. Reluctantly, I peel my eyes, my vision blurred by the cascade of tears that refuses to cease. Yet, I manage to focus on his blurry figure through the thick curtain of my emotions.

He gently takes his thumbs to my eyes, and I comprehend his gesture. I close my eyes, and he runs his thumbs over them. I peel my eyes open once his thumbs stop at the corners of my eyes. I look at him again; his features are more clear to me now.

"It's okay to cry when you have too much on your chest. Just let it all go. I'm right here for you."

I feel tears threatening again, but I block them, hoping that I succeed. I suck them all back. I have cried enough.

He pulls me to him, resting my head on the other chest that is not wet. I don't object. I drop and rest there, drinking in his warmth and holding on to him as if he were my guardian angel, my savior—my black messiah. While his right hand digs deep into my loose hair, his left is soothing my back, and his chin rests on my skull.

I didn't know I could feel this free and be safe with a stranger. I feel like I belong here, in his arms. I feel like his shoulder is the safest place I can unleash and rest my grief and sorrows. I feel so protected and special. I don't feel like he is truly a stranger. It is weird, but I feel like he is someone I have known all my life. It's confusing, but sweet all the same.

I don't know how long I have been resting on his chest, but I think I am better now—better than I have ever been. It's like I have drawn some energy and courage from him. I feel like I can face the world without any fears or worries.

I tap him gently to signal that I am okay, and he pulls us away gently. Our eyes lock, and unlike before, I don't feel any shame. I feel grateful. A little bit shy, but nothing else odd.

"Thank you, Damian," I mumble, and he smiles slightly.

"It is nothing. Are you okay now? I'm still strong enough to hold you more," he jokes, making me smile as I watch his eyebrow flicker.

I can't imagine he is making me smile after all that weeping. "Even if I soak you all wet with my tears?" I tease.

"I don't mind."

"Ahh. Thank you, but I am okay now. Thank you," I affirm.

This side of him is more alluring and mesmerizing. I didn't know this one, but I think it is still too early to know him well. This one can sweep me off my feet now, but love is far from my mind right now. I can't get into another shithole and risk being screwed once again.

"You want to talk? I am here," he genuinely offers, his voice tinged with the same amount of concern as the one etched on his countenance.

I would like to, but I just can't tell him my secrets—maybe just not now. He has helped me enough. I do not want to add more baggage to him.

"Maybe some other time? I am not ready yet, and I think I have been emotional enough for today," I say, and he nods his head slightly, meaning that he respects my decision.

"Okay. But whenever you are ready, I will be right here."

"Thank you. And, sorry."

"It's okay. So, do you want to stay a little bit longer, or do you prefer to go back to the house?" He asks.

I don't think I have had it enough here, and I also don't want him to fall into the temptation awaiting him back in the house—the beer. I like this side of him—him being sober and free of alcohol—and I love the serenity and the bliss here.

"I want to stay," I mumble, and he turns me by the waist as we spin around to face the blue waters again, his hand hugging my waist.

Like a couple that we will never be, we let our minds and eyes wander in the beautiful sea once again, and our hearts too. Getting lost in the strong waves, the waters, and the euphoric tranquility brought about by all these.