Wait

Content warning: emotional dependence, coercive devotion, sexual fixation, possessive behavior, self-harm imagery, violence and control themes, prison setting, addiction, trauma dynamics.

He told her not to feel that way. He said he loved her more than he knew a person could love. That his life belonged to her now. She was the reason he woke up, the thought that kept him awake at night. When the doors clanged shut and the cell filled with men, he swore it was her hand he felt touching his neck.

Stunning art work by Thomas Cargen

He promised to wait. Forever if he had to. He wrote that she was the finish line, the only thing worth crawling towards even if his body shredded on the road. He said that when he got out, she would have all of him...his time, his body, his life.

He told her he could feel her pain in his own body. When she cried, his chest grew heavy, his arms weak. He said he had stayed awake through the night, scratching on paper until his hand cramped, then got up at six to type it all over again. He wanted her to wake up and see his words waiting, proof that he had suffered to send them.

He said he would worship her. That he would turn his cell into a shrine, her picture taped to the wall until the tape peeled and curled, her name carved into his skin with whatever needle he could get his hands on. He wanted her on his body where no one could scrape her off. He told her her beauty had lit up his darkness. That she had filled him until he thought he would split open.

The worship slid into hunger. He told her how she undid him, how she had power over him in ways that humiliated and thrilled him. He remembered the first time he came in seconds just by her touch, said it was embarrassing but holy. He said he didn’t care who knew. That she was his, his woman, his possession.

He admitted he was broken. A child in a man’s body, raised in cages. He didn’t know what he was supposed to do. But he promised her obsession. He said she would never be without his hand on her, his mouth on her, his body pressing against hers. He said he would never hide her. He would drag her into the open and make sure everyone saw who she belonged to.

Then the fantasies came. He said he wanted her ruined for anyone else, body and soul branded by him alone.

He told her this was how she would know. That his devotion was not only in his words but in how far he would take her. He said the way he fucked her was the way he loved her: no distance, no air, no space left untouched. He said he would make sure she felt owned, needed, worshiped, destroyed, remade.

He circled back to promises. He told her she was perfect. His guide, his teacher. He said he was becoming the man she needed. He wrote about his pushups, a thousand at a time until the floor was slick with sweat and his chest hammered against the concrete. Men told him his chest stuck out like a shield, and he wanted her to picture it. He said he would be her Hulk, strong enough to deserve her beauty. He told her he felt too small beside her, too plain, and that every rep was an offering, proof that he was building a body worthy of her.

He said he would kill the addiction, come out clean. He said he wanted her as his wife for life. But then he admitted he couldn’t do it alone. He told her he needed her to keep him steady, to stop him from going left. He called her his partner, his savior. Beauty to his Beast. He told her she had saved him already, but the truth pressed through the words: Beauty could only save the Beast by stepping inside his cage, and once the door closed, it would not open again. 

He told her to wait. Wait, and he would be perfect. Wait, and the broken glass would be fitted into a disco ball. Wait, and they would dance in its light. He didn’t say what kind of light. He didn’t say how sharp the shards would be if the ball broke again, or how much blood would be on the floor if it fell.

By the end, he unraveled. He said he loved her again and again, as if writing it enough times would make it true. He said he missed her. He said he couldn’t stop. He told her she already had all of him, that he was already proving it, that all she had to do was 𝘄𝗮𝗶𝘁.