The Wolf Who Bit the Blackwidow

It’s been weeks derailing myself of writing a word. My characters though are catching up with unspoken feelings. This time, I didn’t hold inhibitions. It was explicit, exactly as I’ve masturbated on or painfully imagined.

My life, no matter how realistically caved in within barriers, seemed always visible. Not entirely visible but disputed towards being thrown publicly. I must admit. I hate people sometimes. I hate being around them. I loathed at being chased. I hate the persistence out of physical motivation. I hate that they are desperately keen of attention they’d do anything in the name of it. But maybe I don’t hate them at all. I just hate their intentions and the need to impose it on others.

Don’t judge me. I have tried to rued and connive against my will. Everytime a hand reaches out through a slightly opened door, I freak out and run. I could imagine a beastly archetypal image behind it waiting to devour on unconscious prey. I have probably run away more than 10 times in a span of few months. The statistics is expected to grow higher in the next few weeks. As to why the splurge on letting down people takes an unprecedented toll—it was never intended. I just keep trying and eventually fade away.

Now there’s a man who walked in with an erratically confident demeanor. The baffling twist was that he transparently laid his intention. And that is to break down my so-called barriers by spurring out intense wavelength of emotions. He doesn’t mean sweeping me off my feet, the way the others have romanticized the social ordeals. He would try for days to pacify my incompetence and irregularities. Then disappear for more than a week. Pattern goes on with assumed calculated stimulus. I couldn’t break away from not paying attention. Who wouldn’t? He’s a reincarnate of Adonis in my creative stories. The very image of curvature and stature. His intellect is a painstaking nuisance on my beholden philosophy. He’s cunning, playful and unafraid.

So lately, he has been reading the “copy book case of the hunter getting hunted,” which is far fetched from his previous implementations. Pretensions of vulnerability was convincingly powerful that my mouth became relentless. Yep. I told him I like him back. A blasphemy to my sworn principle was stormed by unrequited lament. Within seconds, he said “I don’t wana hurt your ego by saying I was just fooling around.” I had to revive my composure by not taking the rest seriously when he went on for another try. His artful ways of encouraging me to initiate a communication for once was further superimposed this time. Of course I wouldn’t fall for that. I am walking memory stick. I never forget.

It’s been weeks and the test is still on. Watching him  go by every now and then. But I refuse to take action. I refuse to engage further. Hating him has made me more oblivious of everyone else. Sadly, I do miss him.

Now the goal is to prepare a traversing approach. A scheme that would end up his trails. He’s watching while I’m watching him watch me. I’m going to be still until the wolf comes in again but I’m rather hoping he’s lost and gone. If he finds his way back, the beast will wail over his own trap.

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Abby Mabb

Snarly female. Occasional book reviewer.

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