Sticky<\/em> is sweet things that don't dry.<\/p>\nBlood ain't sweet.<\/p>\n
Blood is tacky. <\/i>The way drying glue is tacky.\u00a0Though my palm threatens to slide, my fingers are dry and stiff, and if I were to lift them away, the skin of his neck would stretch a little with the pull. I don't let go. I wouldn't.<\/p>\n
His eyes plead with me, but there's no hope. I can hear a chopper in the distance. The smell of blood is so rich and meaty I can almost taste it. There's a tear on the tip of my nose, but it never falls.<\/p>\n
\u00bb\u00bb\u00bb\u00bb<\/p>\n
He's in a plane. I'm in a different one. It's not like Top Gun<\/i>; the kites we're flying have props. We're making a final pass. There's a bullet that punches through the cockpit and cuts through my pant leg, but I don't feel a thing. I don't know if it's\u00a0because\u00a0of the adrenaline running cold in my veins\u00a0or if I was just a lucky bastard. My radio gets it a second later, and I'm alone in the sky.<\/p>\n
I find my bearings. I cross the Channel. I'm home. I am<\/i> a lucky, bloody bastard.<\/p>\n
My heart beats loud in my ears\u2014a liquid white noise I can hear inside my skull. The touch down is ropey because my hands are shaking. I know I'm bleeding now because I'm cold and my boot is wet. I don't care, because what cripples me is that I don't see his plane\u00a0on the runway, and I can't see him in the air. I'm only told after\u00a0I fall out of the cockpit that he was gunned down. Another punch to the gut, and I'm pulled away again.<\/p>\n
\u00bb\u00bb\u00bb<\/p>\n
Is it Nice? Barcelona? Palermo? I can see beautiful water beyond the high patio. Thin white curtains blow in the warm breeze. He's wearing a white shirt, unbuttoned. Shorts. He's tanned. His feet are bare.<\/p>\n
For once we're not fighting for our lives. No, we're playing chess in the sun. That smile always gets me. I can't help but smile back. The way his hand curls around the piece suddenly reminds me of the way it looks curled around my wrist.<\/p>\n
Oh, but we do fight... and fight. Behind those smiling eyes is that darkness he keeps there like a prisoner. I know that darkness well; we're old friends.<\/p>\n
White shirt, white curtains, white sheets. There's blood on those white sheets; among the tiny, red rosebuds there's a full bloom. We fight until dawn. Then we're in the summer sun again, and we play another round of chess. He hates the way I make him feel; I hate the fact that I love him.<\/p>\n
\u00bb\u00bb<\/p>\n
I'm on my knees on the ground again. This time it's dusk, and it's really fucking cold. There are trees all around me. I'm back in uniform, and my horse has thrown a shoe. The\u00a0horse isn't hurt, but I'm wrapping her hoof in my scarf even though the wind blows its ice down my neck. I can hear him get off his mount\u00a0and walk to me. We're alone, so when he puts his hand on my shoulder, I lean against him. We're late getting back to camp. He knows it, I know it. Neither of us cares for the moment. Is he going to die on me again? Will I be the first to go?<\/p>\n
More visions. More lives.<\/p>\n
\u00bb<\/p>\n
I blink, and they're gone. I can breathe again.<\/p>\n
I don't want to breathe.<\/p>\n
We're never quite in sync, never given enough time. Like twin moons orbiting something built from blood, love, and far too much pain. If I don't turn away, my eyes begin to burn.<\/p>\n
They're not tears. They're more like memories of tears.<\/p>\n
I push it all out of my head, reclaim the coldness I prefer, and I go back to breathing. Easy as pie.<\/p>\n
Problem is, it'll take at least another beer just so I can look away.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
All it takes is for me to see that look in his eyes. That look. It’s like a punch to the solar plexus. I can’t breathe. There’s panic. It hurts. For a moment the world narrows down to one tiny, sharp point that prods the part of me I rarely use. The one that pumps the blood through my veins. Then the visions come, rapid-fire and unsympathetic. I can’t look away if they’re inside my head. \u00bb\u00bb\u00bb\u00bb\u00bb On my knees, his head on my lap. Beneath my palm is a hot, slick mess of blood. I can feel how it … <\/p>\n
Read more<\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":414,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"generate_page_header":"","jetpack_post_was_ever_published":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_access":"","_jetpack_dont_email_post_to_subs":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_tier_id":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paywalled_content":false,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":"","jetpack_publicize_message":"","jetpack_publicize_feature_enabled":true,"jetpack_social_post_already_shared":true,"jetpack_social_options":{"image_generator_settings":{"template":"highway","default_image_id":0,"font":"","enabled":false},"version":2}},"categories":[72],"tags":[141,142,128,127,112],"class_list":["post-412","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-beys-tales-writing-2","tag-blood","tag-crazy","tag-death","tag-love","tag-obsession"],"jetpack_publicize_connections":[],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/beydeckard.com\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2014\/07\/orbiting.png?fit=650%2C485&ssl=1","jetpack_shortlink":"https:\/\/wp.me\/s4sexs-orbiting","jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"jetpack_likes_enabled":true,"jetpack-related-posts":[{"id":1229,"url":"https:\/\/beydeckard.com\/blog\/blood\/","url_meta":{"origin":412,"position":0},"title":"Blood","author":"Bey","date":"August 3, 2015","format":false,"excerpt":"I bleed for you; Black and white When it should be red. Surrounded by ghosts, I tear back the layers, Exposing wounds That will never heal, To sacrifice words to you. Naked to your touch, The skinned confessions I offer Bankrupt my soul and leave me aching. 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With the captain\u2019s mind in shambles, Jon and Tom set out to find the passage home through the black mountain range, hoping to find a cure for Baltsaros\u2019s madness. However, when the men are forced to part ways, darkness takes root in the schism\u2026","rel":"","context":"In "Fated"","block_context":{"text":"Fated","link":"https:\/\/beydeckard.com\/blog\/category\/book-updates\/fated\/"},"img":{"alt_text":"","src":"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/beydeckard.com\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2015\/03\/facebook-banner.jpg?fit=851%2C315&ssl=1&resize=350%2C200","width":350,"height":200,"srcset":"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/beydeckard.com\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2015\/03\/facebook-banner.jpg?fit=851%2C315&ssl=1&resize=350%2C200 1x, https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/beydeckard.com\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2015\/03\/facebook-banner.jpg?fit=851%2C315&ssl=1&resize=525%2C300 1.5x, https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/beydeckard.com\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2015\/03\/facebook-banner.jpg?fit=851%2C315&ssl=1&resize=700%2C400 2x"},"classes":[]},{"id":1057,"url":"https:\/\/beydeckard.com\/blog\/praise-for-fated-blood-and-redemption-at-joyfully-jay\/","url_meta":{"origin":412,"position":3},"title":"Praise for Fated: Blood and Redemption at Joyfully Jay","author":"Bey","date":"April 15, 2015","format":false,"excerpt":"Michelle at Joyfully Jay says: \"The writing once again takes center stage and once again it absolutely has to be recognized. The author has a respect for the art of story telling and a command of language, or several languages as the case may be here. There are flashbacks throughout\u2026","rel":"","context":"In "Fated"","block_context":{"text":"Fated","link":"https:\/\/beydeckard.com\/blog\/category\/book-updates\/fated\/"},"img":{"alt_text":"","src":"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/beydeckard.com\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2015\/04\/fated-promo-jon.png?fit=1077%2C593&ssl=1&resize=350%2C200","width":350,"height":200,"srcset":"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/beydeckard.com\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2015\/04\/fated-promo-jon.png?fit=1077%2C593&ssl=1&resize=350%2C200 1x, https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/beydeckard.com\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2015\/04\/fated-promo-jon.png?fit=1077%2C593&ssl=1&resize=525%2C300 1.5x, https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/beydeckard.com\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2015\/04\/fated-promo-jon.png?fit=1077%2C593&ssl=1&resize=700%2C400 2x, https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/beydeckard.com\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2015\/04\/fated-promo-jon.png?fit=1077%2C593&ssl=1&resize=1050%2C600 3x"},"classes":[]},{"id":2341,"url":"https:\/\/beydeckard.com\/blog\/the-wanderer-1\/","url_meta":{"origin":412,"position":4},"title":"The Wanderer – Part One","author":"Bey","date":"November 25, 2016","format":false,"excerpt":"KO by Zdzis\u0142aw Beksi\u0144ski I'm lost. 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