The Cipher

His blood is on my hands and so is her lipstick. The combination is art.

I stare at the steering wheel, knuckles still burning from the impact, adrenaline still jerking in my veins like a live electricity. She’s besides me, clutching onto her clothes like her life depends upon it. Like an wounded animal, exactly how I feel.

And I haven’t moved.

Not for the last ten minutes.

Not even looked at her.

Because if I look at her, I’ll ruin her again. I’ll fuck her. I’ll make her cry again. And I don’t know if that’s a warning or a promise.

She’s silent, not crying anymore. Breathing too softly, afraid the sound might provoke the monster.

Me.

I light a cigarette with hands though should be in cuffs. I never force women. Fuck. Why does she have this affect on me?

The smoke curls in my lungs like penance.

Because I can’t look at her right now. I don’t want to remember the way her soft lips split when I pressed too hard. The way her legs trembled when I made her take all of me, even when she b