Blake Waterworth

Mistakes are inevitable, as are the consequences they bring. Life itself is an uncongenial cesspool of sadness and heartbreak. I once believed that happiness was unattainable, that is until I realized living was the epitome of this very emotion.
I didn’t think I’d actually go through with it. I never thought I’d ever get over the emotional pain he caused me, I loved him dearly and thought one day we would spend eternity together as one. I should have known it was a far fetched dream, I should have known he would betray me.
He was beautiful, like the sun peeking over clouds on a stormy afternoon. He was the tempest before the storm…he was my everything. His name was Blake Waterworth and he was a new teacher at the junior college I attended. We met at his seven o’clock literature class on a Tuesday night; because you know, Tuesdays are strangely mysterious in that sense. It was his second day teaching, he couldn’t have been older than 29 years old.
Blake was absolutely beautiful, his sad blue eyes yearned for the answers of life and literature and I wanted to show him. I knew the ins and outs of this wretched life, the years no doubt had changed me into the cynical sadist I had become. Humanity had disgusted me, I had become a sort of misanthropist… that is until Blake came into my life. He showed me a kind of happiness I thought to be long extinct. He taught me how to love, only to teach me how to hate once more.
I would watch him quietly at my seat, picking his brain as he lectured us about writings of revolutions long since gone. I was envious of his talent to interpret the lines of any given novel or poem, the man was undoubtedly a genius, but a fool at his own game.
I was on the verge of nineteen when he let his feelings become known to me. He told me he valued my ideas and that I had a bright future ahead of me. I believed every lie that passed those beautifully curved lips, and fell for every essence of his structured face. Why had I succumbed to my carnal instincts when it came to Mr.Waterworth… when no other could attain my heart.
“I would like to discuss the principles of Kafka with you further, perhaps over a cup of coffee?” he had said to me, I had excitedly obliged. One coffee turned into three dates, three dates turned into a what seemed like meaningful relationship. It was almost as the heavens had opened up and shone it’s mystical light over me; not that I believed in a heaven or a hell, but it was nice to know my luck was beginning to change. I had met the love of my life, and I knew this after a month of being with him. He showed me happiness, a relatively distant emotion in my life.
He told me tales of far off lands he had visited as we lay beside each other on the roof of his apartment. He told me he would marry me after I had finished college and when he had saved up enough to buy us our first home. He told me he would love me until the end of time and we would grow old together. Pity for dreams that were cut too short.
I was too naïve to think he would use me, I didn’t think such a sweet beautiful man had the ability to crush my heart and tear me to pieces.
“Is this your first time?” he breathed heavily as he pulled away from our kiss and scanned my face.
“Yes.”
I believed he would love me forever, but words meant nothing in the end. After all, what were they good for anyway except a moment of false happiness?
He looked into my eyes and I knew he even fooled himself into believing he actually cared about what I felt or what I wanted.
I didn’t want to believe he’d make me bleed. Wasn’t it all part of life, bleeding? Draining you from the life source that keeps us alive day after day?
A little piece of me had gone, lost into the infernal abyss that I once thought to be love. I was fooled by my own emotions and I couldn’t live to deal with another heartbreak.
“You motherfucking asshole!” I cried as I opened the door to find him in bed with a trashy looking high schooler.
“This isn’t what it looks like!” he cried as he jumped out of bed with his boxers on.
“Oh?” I laughed hysterically, “Were you trying to teach this kid a thing or two about anatomy? You filthy fucking bastard!”
“No, Baby, wait!” he tried apologizing, “I swear it was a big mistake.” My eyes darted from the cowering high schooler to his face.
“No, Blake, this was a big mistake. Don’t call me Baby.” I tossed the gold watch he had given me to the floor and watched it shatter into cogs and pieces against the wooden floor.
The young boy had the sheets pulled over his chin, my guess was that he was wither a whore or druggie of some sort. Why would Blake do this, that sick demented pervert.
“But I LOVE YOU,” he called after me as I strode away from the scene.
“It’s too late now, Mr. Waterworth.”
That night I knew love never truly existed, it’s just an illusion that makes people content with their lonely lives.
I drank a few shots of whiskey before I let my blood flow. Isn’t it all a part of life, bleeding? Draining us from the life source that keeps us alive day after day? Who wants to live in a world filled with such darkness, who would ever want to live their life knowing everyone is a great big pretender? I wouldn’t. I didn’t.
I slit my wrists and drained all the life out of me, like a great river rushing to my freedom. I wasn’t free, I let him win. Why? Why did I do it? It wasn’t over the heartache, but of humanity as I knew it before and after Blake Waterworth


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A/N:
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