the boys i've loved & the end of the world

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the boys i've loved & the end of the world Page 8

by Catarine Hancock


  somebody else, and they are still lurking, in the back of your

  mind.

  day fifteen: the bathroom tiles are swirling just like the toilet

  as you flush it again and again. you spend the day at the doctor

  and when you finally see him that night, he holds you even

  when you warn him that you’re sick. “i was in a bad mood all

  day,” he tells you, “and now i’m not. how strange is that?” you

  laugh and he tells you he loves you again. “i love you too,”

  you reply, and for a few minutes, you forget.

  day sixteen: “why won’t you just kiss me?” he grabs your

  hands and pulls you close to him. “because,” you say simply,

  “i should be in love with him.” he runs his fingers through his

  hair, “but you’re not anymore.” you shake your head, “it’s

  never that easy.”

  day seventeen: “i’ve never met someone like you before,” he

  confesses. he runs his hand up and down your spine and you

  whisper sweet nothings in his ear. part of you wishes you don’t

  mean it when you tell him you never want to leave, but all of

  you knows you do.

  day eighteen: he is growing more and more upset as you get

  closer and closer to leaving. you write a poem about him in

  your journal, and he wants to see it but you tell him he’ll see it

  later. “maybe i’ll mail it to you,” you joke, but he only looks

  sadder.

  day nineteen: he asks, “we’re going to be okay, yeah?” and

  you kiss his hand. “of course, angel,” you say, “we’ll be great,

  even.” you say that you love him and he glows.

  day twenty: when you kiss him, he freezes. he didn’t see it

  coming. his hands rest delicately on your waist and for a few

  seconds there is nothing but him. he holds you afterwards and

  you can feel his smile against your neck. that night, he tells

  you how much he loves you a thousand times over. your heart

  cracks, not because you shouldn’t love him, but because you

  do and time is up.

  day twenty-one: you kiss him, hard, and cry into his shirt. you

  try to memorize the way his hands feel in yours, the way his

  lips feel against your skin. “we’ll be okay,” he mumbles into

  your hair, but his voice shakes and he is unsure. you are too.

  when you drive away, he watches and you start to cry again. “i

  love him,” you sob, “i love him.” you repeat it to yourself on

  the way home. but this time, you are talking about a different

  person.

  -c.h.

  conclusive

  you ask

  is the reason

  you're so sad nowadays

  because of me

  i say

  of course not

  but i can feel the lie

  licking at the back of my teeth

  you ask

  then why do you look

  like you’re about to cry

  whenever you glance my way

  i say

  i don’t know what

  you’re talking about

  and i try to hide

  that the tears are there

  even now

  you say

  i may be pathetic

  but i’ve never been blind

  i look away and i confess

  i don’t think

  we were ever meant

  to fall in love

  you stop speaking

  and for a few minutes

  we just sit

  you smoke a cigarette

  and i bite my nails

  then you say

  if we were never

  meant to fall in love

  then why did we

  i don’t have

  an answer for this

  but you take my silence

  as one and let the smoke

  float around us before you

  speak again

  i think we were meant

  to fall in love but maybe

  we weren’t meant to fall

  in love for forever

  i say

  this is heartbreaking

  you say

  well at least now

  we know why it is

  -c.h.

  this is rape culture

  she is 4. her cousin molests her and she is too young to do anything. she doesn't even know what's happening. when she tells people, later, they don't believe her.

  they say, “why didn't you speak out about it sooner?”

  fight back vomit. scream. she was a child.

  she is 5. her step sister gropes her, uses her as a play thing. she doesn't process what happened until years later. she tells her dad.

  he says he doesn't believe her. says it isn't possible.

  swallow. ignore the rising bile. she shouldn't have waited this long.

  she is 6. her babysitter tells her they're going to play a game. slides her hand over her crotch. “i don't want to play,” she says. “then you’ll get in trouble,” the babysitter replies, moves her hand closer.

  her parents ask her why she would want to ruin somebody’s life. she wants to ask why they would let somebody ruin hers.

  breathe. force down the words. she must have misunderstood.

  he is 7. his uncle tells him to watch as he touches himself, tells him to touch himself too. when he finally figures out what happened, years later, his uncle is gone.

  so he swallows it down. it doesn't matter now.

  she is 9. her cousin pulls his pants down and begs her to touch him. rubs his hand on her through her underwear. his parents walk in on it.

  they say, “boys will be boys. it's just what they do at this age.”

  choke it back. accept it. this is natural.

  she is 10. her stepdad takes advantage of her. she is so scared to say anything that she doesn't. she finally works up the courage to speak. points at the places on the doll. the cops don't press charges.

  they say, “it's a ‘he said, she said’ thing. sorry.”

  swallow. tremble. but why should they believe a child.

  she is 12. she keeps telling herself it isn't happening. but it is, and he keeps doing it. she thinks she can trust him to not do it again. she's wrong. so she tells her mom.

  she says, “you should've done something. you shouldn't have just frozen in place.”

  sob. pound the wall. she was too scared to do anything else.

  she is 12. he takes her innocence, all of it. again and again. she sits, wide-eyed with trauma. she needs somebody to be there for her. it doesn't stop for three years.

  they say, “you should've enjoyed the action.”

  they say, “you should learn from it.”

  swallow. see red. she was asking for too much.

  she is 12. her best friend gropes her and doesn't stop. he won't listen. she tells her friends, hopes that they will understand. but they don't.

  they say, “at least this means you're pretty.”

  they say, “this is just how boys are.”

  scream. swallow. at least she’s desirable.

  he is 14. he is gagged. his family member touches him and he can't scream. pushes his way inside. he can't scream for help. when he asks for it later, they don't understand.

  they say, “it can't hurt that badly.”

  bite back the screams. sob. they won't get it, so they don't care.

  she is 15. her boyfriend slips his fingers into her body. she tells him it hurts and he laughs. he keeps going. she stays with him because she doesn't know what else to do.

  they say, “well why didn't you just leave him?”

  swallow. choke. she should’ve just ran.

  she is 15. her stepbrother rapes he
r, takes her for himself. when she tells the school, he is kicked off the football team for a week. he still walks free and she is permanently chained to a memory she never asked for.

  swallow. swallow. she doesn't matter.

  she is 15. a football player offers to walk her to class. he pulls her around the corner and gropes her, pins her against the wall so she can't move. she goes to administration and they try to give her a detention because she went with him. he didn't get anything.

  swallow. sob. she's the problem.

  she is 16. he is 23. he gets her drunk and traps her against the wall, blocks out her protests with his mouth on hers and a hand up her dress. he takes what he wants.

  they say, “that's why you don't drink.”

  they say, “if it really happened, she wouldn't tell anybody. it's too embarrassing.”

  swallow. chew on words. she's at fault for this.

  he is 16. his boyfriend holds him down and masturbates on to him. “i know you want it,” he growls. says he has to win him back, tears away his clothes. he threatens to scream, and the boyfriend tells him he never wanted him back, just wanted to see how far he could get him to go.

  they say, “you were being a bad boyfriend.”

  they say, “we don't believe you,” and they leave.

  dry heave. hit the wall. why is he surprised.

  she is 17. she is drunk. she tells him she wants to go to bed. “okay, then go to bed,” he says, and slides his fingers into her anyway.

  they say, “he's such a cool guy, though. you probably did something that made him think it was okay.”

  choke on the air. swallow. she should've just kept her mouth shut.

  i am 18. i can still feel his hands on my chest. his prints are branded into my skin. i don't like to look in the mirror anymore. i want to scream.

  but i know what they say.

  swallow. swallow. choke.

  i know what they say.

  so i don't say anything at all.

  -c.h.

  the boys i've loved and the end of the world #4

  “it’s going to consume the earth. a giant light ball, and it’s

  going to swallow the earth whole.”

  we are walking, in his town, a town i’ve never been to until

  now. our arms swing side by side, sometimes brushing, and the

  sun is beaming calmly down on us. “i still find it hard to

  believe that the sun shining on us now, is the same sun that will

  kill everyone and obliterate the planet in three days,” i say with

  a slight laugh.

  “i still find it hard to believe that i’ll never get a chance to

  marry you,” he responds, and i hit his arm, but i am laughing

  and so is he.

  “maybe in heaven, you will,” i giggle, and he rolls his eyes.

  “please, we both know it’s not real,” he scoffs, but he looks at

  me and his eyes are scared. i know, that if i could see mine in a

  mirror, they would be, too. he grabs my arm, stopping us. “tell

  me, was it always the distance that pushed you away?”

  i nod, and my chest feels heavy. “of course it was. it’s always

  distance, isn’t it?” i sigh, knowing that every promise i made to

  him, won’t matter in three days’ time. “i wish it hadn’t been

  there.”

  he draws me closer, wraps his arms around me, and i let him. i

  will never feel them again after today. “i wanted to give you

  the world,” he whispers, “ever since i first saw you, i wanted to

  give you everything i had. you were it for me.”

  i bury my face into his chest and say nothing. but he knows i

  feel the same. he’s always known, and he’ll go to his death

  knowing it, crumbled to ash by the broken sun.

  “i hope he knows how lucky he is to be loved by you,” he

  murmurs into my hair, “i hope he knows that he’s holding a

  star brighter than the sun in his arms.”

  i am crying now, and i clutch his jacket tight. “i have never

  been more sorry about anything,” i confess, “there is nothing

  that hurts more than knowing we will never get a chance.”

  “if heaven is real, please promise you will find me there.” he

  cups my face in his hands, forcing me to look up at him.

  “i promise. i promise, i promise, i promise.”

  with a sigh, he presses his lips to my forehead. “good. i cannot

  bear the distance any longer.”

  -c.h

  the aftermath

  people say it's possible

  to die from a broken heart.

  before you,

  i didn't believe it.

  but then you left.

  and suddenly,

  i couldn't breathe.

  i found myself

  sitting in the shower,

  choking on boiling water

  and watching my skin

  blister red.

  suddenly,

  there was a gaping

  hole in my chest.

  i would find myself

  hunched over the toilet

  and heaving up what

  little food i could manage

  to eat.

  there were days

  where i could hardly

  manage to get out of bed.

  when my limbs would shake

  and i would have to think

  about each step before

  i took it.

  i still don't believe

  that it's possible to die

  from a broken heart.

  but i know now

  that it's possible to feel

  like you are.

  -c.h.

  this is why you hold on

  she's dug her grave, she's written her will,

  her eyes are closed, she's swallowed the pills.

  she's scribbled her note, she's said goodbye,

  she's very certain, she wants to die.

  she's in the hospital, her stomach is pumped,

  she's laying in the bed, a sad sick lump.

  her hair is knotted, her words are few,

  her parents are crying, nobody knew.

  she's grown up now, her wounds are healed,

  her eyes are bright, her smile is real.

  she lights up with laughter, she's glad she stayed,

  she's ever so grateful, she lived another day.

  -c.h.

  resolve

  i will never understand

  why everything could never

  be enough for you.

  i tried to give

  you all i had.

  i thought i did.

  now that it's over

  and it no longer

  hurts, all i am

  able to say is

  that i want you

  to be happy, though

  i know you won't.

  you will always be

  searching for something more.

  perhaps at some point,

  you will realize that

  with me, you had

  it all. all that

  you had ever wanted.

  i doubt it will

  come to that, and

  i know all you

  wanted was true love.

  i'm sorry you didn't

  think i could give

  you that. i promise

  that i tried to.

  this is my goodbye.

  you will always be

  in my heart, darling.

  one day, we may

  meet, and try again.

  one day, you may

  realize that you still

  miss me, and you

  will finally know why.

  i want all this.

  but most of all,

  one day, i hope

  that you will have


  found what it is

  that you're looking for.

  -c.h.

  thought process

  i think

  that maybe

  i was in love

  with you

  but i didn't

  want to be

  i think

  that maybe

  you deserved

  someone who

  didn't always look

  away when you smiled

  in their direction

  i think

  that maybe

  i drove you

  away from me

  not because

  i was too much

  but because

  i was too little

  i think

  i fucking

  ruined us

  i think

  i am a

  disaster

  i think

  i am hard

  to love

  i think

  i know

  why we fell

  apart and

  i think

  i know

  that it was me

  i think

  i'm not making

  excuses for why

  you left

  because i want

  to think you loved

  me but

  deep down

  i know i am

  -c.h.

  an excerpt (#4)

  it was there the second i stepped into the room. the tension. it soaked the air, so thick i could have sworn i would have been able to press my fingers into it had i tried. it didn't take long for me to figure out why-- although i did see it coming.

  i knew he would be here.

  i found it cruel, cruel of whoever, or whatever, was in charge of fate, to bring us together again. not here. this, of all places, was the most haunted. when our eyes met, i knew he was thinking the same thing.

  it took all i had to walk towards him, and it felt like i was stepping on glass shards the entire time. with every inch, another memory blasted itself into my mind. i could see the ghosts of us, i could feel his touches, and even now, they made my heart stop. which, more than anything, was what made it so terrifying.

 

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