The music was loud. I couldn't hear anything. I was there, but I wasn't there. I wasn't here. I let people touch me, feel me up. The smell of cigarettes and sweat filled my head. My body didn't mind the touches, but my mind shivered. This was one of the nights I gave myself to go again. I felt touches on my skin, lips on my neck. Heavy breathing. Alcohol.

I wasn't myself I was him again.

I danced, I partied. I drank, I smoked. Someone could say, 'woah this is life', but for me this was torture. Not for him. I hated myself for letting me go. TO let him take over me. Me taking over myself. Letting my mind wander and get lost again. I was lost inside my own body. I couldn't control myself. I couldn't control him. I had no control anymore. I hated myself 'cause of it.

Someone took me by the hand and swung me around. We danced. Our bodies touched. It was good being bad. But when you had exceeded the limit, there was no way back. You had lost it.

That night was full of alcohol, drugs, kisses and touches. Now this felt so good, but in the morning the situation was going to be different.

.       .        .         .          .           .         .         .         .

I woke up with a terrible headache. I couldn't move. Was I still stoned? I didn't enjoy this lifestyle. Not at all. But I was still doing this. Living like this.

I lied on a bed. It wasn't mine. It never was. It was dark. This wasn't new to me anymore. He took control of my body every night, so I never knew where I would woke up in the morning. I was afraid. I didn't want anyone to use me, but I couldn't change the fact that my other half enjoyed this kind of lifestyle. The other me didn't want to change. It wanted to ruin me and took all the control to himself.  

I tried to move my legs, they moved. I tried to move my arms, they moved. At this point I realized that I wasn't stoned, I wasn't high, so why couldn't I move? It was dark, really dark, but I could see that I was in a bedroom. I could feel it. The morning sun tried to peek into my miserable life through the venetian blinds, but they were too dense to let the light come in.

I was so disgusted on myself. I let my body go almost every night. I didn't want to wake up with someone beside me who smelled like alcohol and sweat. But I still did. I didn't have the money for my medicine. For the medicine which could control me somehow. I had to let me do what I wanted.

When my eyes started to get used to the darkness I saw why I couldn't move. Now I also felt it. There was someone lying on top of me.  Usually I would hurry and put my clothes on, try to run away, but this time I REALLY couldn't move. He was heavy and held me tightly. He had buried his face on my chest. I could only see half of his face.

I studied the guy. He had nice hair although it was messy right now. Usually I wouldn't even bare to look who I had slept with, but 'cause I couldn't move I didn't have anything else to do. He was about my age. He had good body and he smelled quite nice. Like a pleasant cigarette. I couldn't see his face clearly, but I was surprised how handsome he looked. Long eyelashes, nice nose. Nice lips. 

I was in my thoughts when I felt someone moving. That guy was moving. I panicked. How to get out of here? How? Suddenly he pushed himself up. I closed my eyes, pretending I was asleep. He stood up and I heard him putting his clothes on. After he was ready, which felt like forever, he stopped and threw something on the bed. "It was fun," he said and left.

 Money. It was money. I felt like throwing up. I knew no one cared about me and didn't actually want to be with me, but it hurt every time someone treated me like a .

I had asked myself 'Why', million times. Why I was like this.

I just couldn't believe I had done it again. Dirty bodies. My Dirty body was lying on someone else's sheets. Dirtying them. Dirtying myself. I was dirty, awful person, but I didn't have a choice. I was born this way. I was the night and the day. I was dirty, but I was clean. I was two opposites. The extreme opposites. Why couldn't I be in the middle? Just be. Be nothing. Invisible. I was being played by myself. By me. Again. The sick me enjoyed this. It laughed at me. Enjoyed being dirty and promiscuous. Enjoyed killing me. I needed help. It was hard to admit it, but I needed it. I was a loser, a quitter. I didn't have powers to fight with myself. I needed outside help. But I didn't have anyone there. Outside. I was alone. I had to end this myself. I had to battle to the end. Battle with myself to the end.

.      .       .         .          .         .            .           .

I was here again. They touched me. Breathed on my neck. I flirted. I liked to have all this attention. I let myself go. This began to be too regular. I knew I couldn't battle anymore, I had to endure this and wait till my time had come to leave. Leave only him here. Usually I didn't remember, or even see these people faces, but today something was different. I saw the guy. The guy who left me with a pile of cash. I should be mad at him, but again, I wasn't myself right now. I didn't recognize anyone else. Only him. He was dancing and drinking. Flirting. Partying. He saw me staring at him. Usually I would panic and turn away. Be shy. Blush. But I winked. He smirked. Our moment was cut by a hand. Hand which pulled me away. Pulled me to a corner. To feel me up. I enjoyed it. I let him do that, I didn't saw his face, I didn't care.

.          .            .         .          .           .         .          .

I woke up at my own bed. Alone. This was unusual. Nowadays I didn't have any control on myself anymore so I was usually in a really bad shape in the morning. Not in my own house. Not waking up here. So why this change now? Why was I here? I couldn't complain, but I was scared. Scared that I had done something really wrong. Something really bad.

I didn't want to think about this anymore. I had to try to pull myself together. Yet when I was able to do so. I walked past my mirror and winced. I hadn't looked myself in the mirror for so long. I couldn't. If I did it, I would lost myself. See him. I would be vulnerable. He could easily take over me.  Use me, 'cause I was vulnerable. I quickly grabbed my keys and left. Left the house, left the mirror. I couldn't took the mirror down. I didn't let myself to do that. I wanted to break it. Smash it into pieces. But it would cause me more bad luck. For me, not for him.

The city was beautiful in the morning. The sun shined brightly and there were families and children playing in the park. They were happy. I smiled. It would be nice to know how they felt. I always wished that even a one day I could be like that. Be like those kids.

Innocent. Honest. Happy. To just live. They didn't need to care about anyone or anything. They had parents, or someone who cared for them. Took care of them. I wanted to feel like that. But I wasn't special. No one could grant this wish of mine. It was a stupid wish. Simply stupid. Like I had any hope. It was stupid to even think of that. I walked past them. The children gasped. Few started to cry and the others just froze. Their parents took them away. Like I was some kind of kidnapper. Murdered. But I wasn't. I wasn't evil. I didn't come here to eat their kids. They were stupid. Stupid and shallow. They should be ashamed. But I had to admit that I would do the same. I would protect my children. I would protect them from someone who looked like a living dead. The someone I was.

I pulled the hood over my head. Hide myself. I pulled myself deeper and deeper in self-destruction, in self-loathing. I ordered coffee. I didn't know what coffee 'cause I didn't care. I just put my finger on the menu and they said :

 "Okay, it'll be ready soon, you can take a seat."

This was my usual daily rhythm that I had. Nowadays I didn't come here so often. I didn't know where was I, 'cause it wasn't me who moved my body. Controlled it. I felt a little happy and scared that I got to come here. I just hoped that I could keep this up. To come here every day. So that I could feel like a person. I wanted to be a human, feel that I was in a right place. Feel that I belonged here. But it was impossible.

I waited for my cup of coffee. I had a strange feeling. Like someone watched me. Was I being watched? I tried to shrug it off and bury myself deeper into my scarf and hood.

"Here you go" a hand placed a warm cup of americano in front of me. I thanked her by nodding my head. Odd. This was the feeling I had, every time I took a sip of my coffee. Indeed someone was watching me. That someone was sitting in the corner, reading a newspaper, drinking coffee. Watching me. Every time I lifted my eyes to take a look at him, he turned his gaze back to his newspaper. It was annoying. I wanted to ask him what was his problem, if he knew me, but I didn't have the courage. 'Cause I felt like he certainly did know me. It might be that he knew him. Me. I drank my coffee in one shot and was about to leave. I had to get away. To get this dirty feeling out of my skin. But before that,

I wanted to say something to him. Anything. I wanted to sound rude. Be rude. Mean. I wanted him to know that what he does wasn't okay. The thing I did every night wasn't okay, it was wrong. And I bet he was just like me. At night. I wanted him to know that he was a human trash just like me. I wanted to hurt him, 'cause people hurt me. People like him unconsciously hurt me.

I walked in front of him. He lifted his newspaper up a little so that I couldn't see his face. He pretended that he didn't see me coming. It made me more angry. He was a sick stalker who enjoyed stalking someone like me. I wanted to see his face before talking to him. I needed to say this to his face. I pushed the newspaper down. He let it drop on the table and lifted his gaze. I didn't know what to do. Everything I had planned faded away. I almost chocked on my saliva. It was him. The guy who I had woke up with. The guy who I had flirted with. The only guy who's face I could see in the crowd. The guy who meant something to me, although I hadn't even noticed it. But now I noticed it. My heart beat fastened and I could feel sweat creeping down my spine. My lips trembled and I didn't know what to do. I didn't even know why I was still standing here, watching this guy who obviously smirked at me, knowing that I was stuck in my own thoughts. I didn't know that I had some kind of feelings towards him. I didn't know at all. I hadn't even thought about it. Thought about him. But maybe I actually had thought about him. The wrong, the bad me. Was I falling for him? Was the other me falling for this guy? Otherwise I couldn't explain this feeling to myself. But now, Just once... Just once I wished that the person, this person would know me, not the other me. Just me. Could this guy fall for me, not for the bad one? Fall for me, not 'cause of lust and passion, but 'cause of love?

No, it was impossible. I tore myself away from my thoughts. I needed to go. I didn't want to hurt this person although he had hurt me. He did it to me. He deserved to be hurt but I couldn't do it. He meant something to me, something, that confused me a lot. I couldn't understand my behavior right now, I just needed to get away. I shook my head and turned around, to walk away, run away. But I was stopped. He had stopped me. I didn't want to look at him. I couldn't, that would break me. Break me into pieces in front of him. It was not permitted. I stood there my back facing him. Him holding me by my wrist. Both didn't say anything. I stood, he sat. He didn't open his mouth so I didn't open mine. I understood that this was pointless. I had to leave, 'cause this wouldn't lead me anywhere. Lead us anywhere. I pulled my wrist out of his grip and walked away. I walked away leaving him, his newspaper and coffee behind.

Now I was free from him, but I wasn't free from myself.

.      .       .       .      .        .        .         .        .           .

I screamed to them to let me go, to get off me. " Don't touch me, don't you dare to touch me!" I cried, I pushed and pulled myself, trying to get out of their grasps.

"That's not what you told me last time," one of the guys said while touching me, feeling me. I tried, I seriously tried to get out. This was terrifying. I was terrified. I was me tonight, finally myself tonight, but I should've known that there was something wrong with it. He hadn't took over me tonight, but it didn't change the fact that I lived like this most of the nights. Although I was me, I couldn't do anything to the fact that these other people didn't know this. They didn't know that I wasn't like that. They only knew the bad me. I was sick and tired of this, but now I was mostly scared and terrified. I felt like dying. I couldn't believe that I dealt with this kind of people every night.

Why was I so sick? Why were they so sick? Too sick to see that I was unwillingly here. Unwilling to do this. These people couldn't see that I was suffering. I was in a state of shock.

Where was the dirty me? Had he, me, abandoned me now? Why now? Why now when I didn't know what to do, didn't want to know that I was actually doing this every day. I didn't want to remember this. To experience this when I was in my right mind. Actually I never was in my right mind, but this me was better than the bad one. I felt fingers trailing through my body. I felt cheap. I felt so cheap. And that I was.

I had buried myself so deep into my own thoughts that I didn't realize that there weren't fingers anymore on my body. They had left. But where? Why? Why had they left me? I felt so scared. Scared to look what was happening, but I get up the nerve to open my eyes and see what was going on. I gazed my eyes to see what was happening. There were few people lying on the alley and the other people, dirty people, were getting a good beating. They were throwing punches, yelling. What was going on? I still didn't understand the situation although I had opened my eyes. Confused. Scared. That's what I felt.

I didn't recognize or see anyone's faces, but there was one person that I could see. The guy who was beating the others. It was that guy. It was him.

He, who the better me loved. He, who only knew the bad me. He, who had used the me, the bad me. He came to save me, or did he?

"He's my property!" The guy shouted, giving the final punch. Yes. Yes, He didn't care about me. He cared about his needs, he needed this body to fulfil his needs, his lust. He wanted to use this trash again who lied on the alley, bleeding. He liked to use me 'cause I let him use me. I was willing to give my body to him. Maybe I could feel loved if I gave my body to him? Even once I wanted to feel love. I needed to. But this wasn't love. It was just lust. He lusted over my body. My Dirty body. Dirty me. When I saw him saving me, it meant me a lot, but truthfully he just came to take his property back. Wasn't it like this? I was sure it was. It had to be.

He didn't use me this night. He left me. He looked at me and nodded. I nodded back. I was bleeding but he couldn't see it. But I bet he wouldn't even care. I was in the dark corner of the alley. Trying to get up. To go home.

.      .       .        .         .          .        .        .         .       .

I was ready to look at myself. I was ready 'cause I didn't have anything to loose anymore. I realized it now, when the guy had left me. No one knew me, they only knew the bad one, so what was I supposed to do. Either I must fight, fight hard, or give up, give myself to the bad guy. I stood in front of my mirror. Watching the mirror, the reflection of us. There we were. In the mirror. Not me, us. I had dark circles under my eyes. Deep, deep dark. I had pale skin, paler that my white walls, chapped lips, red lips. They weren't healthy red, they were bloody red. I looked bad I had to admit. Now I could understand the judging glares that people gave me. I could see veins on my forehead, on my arms, on me. He just smirked. He looked quite good. He looked like he was high. He had large pupils and empty gaze. He looked happy, but he wasn't. He was just as desperate and ill as I was, but he hided it well. He smirked, looking happy, happy 'cause he had ruined me. He had succeeded. He could play with me as much as he wanted. Beat and push me around. 'Cause we were together controlling this body. He just was the stronger one.

I wanted to scatter the mirror. I had to win this battle. I was ready to do it. And I did. I threw my fist in the air and hit the mirror. It broke into little pieces. Million pieces, that shattered on the floor. My fist and my floor was covered in blood, but I didn't care. I had won. I had beaten myself. But that wasn't the truth. Gradually my tears of happiness turned into desperate sobs. I had broke the mirror, yes, but I could still see him, See myself, see us. I could see myself in every little piece that was now lying on the floor. There wasn't one mirror anymore. There were over hundred. Each piece reflecting my face. I was doomed. I had done wrong. Something really wrong. I shouldn't have done this. Now I had lost my hope. The fight had ended. I had break him free. And now he was ready to take over me, completely. But I wouldn't let him do that. I needed to end this before he, me myself, could do it.

I didn't want to be like this anymore. People shouldn't see that side of me anymore. I needed to feel loved, loved by the guy, loved by him, but I couldn't be loved if I was going to lost it completely. Lost all to myself.

I had to admit now. Admit that I was in love. I actually was so in love that it killed me more and more. I wanted to be in love with him, but I knew, that soon, all we could have was lust. Nothing more. I would be property. I would be like bad food, something daily needed, but not good enough to keep. To care about. And I couldn't bear that thought of us. Yes, us. He was the first person who attracted my attention. He was the first guy who's face I saw, remembered. Noticed. He was the first person who saved me and unconsciously let me feel loved, but still hurt me. I didn't want to stay here now when I definitely knew that there would be no future. Not for me and definitely not for us. 'Cause there were no US. This thing was only my imaginations outputs.

I had to tie myself up. Tie my neck and let my body drop freely. Lock me inside my closet and stay there. Drop there. Die there. Before he could take over me. When I was young the doctors knew that this disease, this disorder would kill me, and they were right.

Here I was. Quitting. Giving up.

.     .      .       .         .         .          .           .

The graveyard was null and cold. Few candles were bringing light for the dead people. Remembering those who once lived. The graveyard once felt like it was abandoned, people visited it only on holidays, but In these few months, one person, visited there every night. He came every night, to light up the candle for someone. He lighted up the candle for his secret crush. The crush who had died miserably. This person, this guy who came here every night, cried every time. Silent sobs.

He had tried to show his love to the boy, who now lied under the ground, by helping him, saving him. But he knew that the boy wouldn't remember those times. The boy wouldn't remember him. So he acted. He acted like he was just someone, no one. It hurt him, but believing in something impossible hurt him more. So he acted. Sometimes he felt cruel to the boy, but he wasn't. He wanted the boy to believe like that. He never touched him. How could he? He was something so precious. He had felt angry, jealous 'cause of the boy, but he knew that the boy couldn't do anything about it. It wasn't his fault. So He tried to help him, Take care of him, Watch over him, secretly.  

He wanted to be more, wanted to do more, but he knew that it could never happen. The boy was different. He was special. He wasn't from this world and he knew that this boy was gonna end like this, did he help him or not. The results would be still the same. But he had promised that when this time comes, he would light up the candle every night for him. Every night. To show him that he cared. That there was someone who cared and loved for him. He had made the promise and was going to keep it. He couldn't show his love to the boy when he was alive, but he could show it now.

And he wished, he wished that the boy could see it now.

Thank you for reading this onshot~ Please leave me some kind of comment to let me know what you thought about this =^__^= Thanks~~