Part 1: Mine
Luna tasted like cherries and cigarettes. Marianne’s lips were stained red, her pupils blown wide. “When’s your mom coming home?” Marianne asked as she mouthed at Luna’s neck.
“Monday,” Luna panted.
“Then it looks like we’ve got the whole weekend to ourselves.” Marianne’s tongue dipped down into the hollow of Luna’s collarbones.
“You devil,” she choked out.
“I’d rather you call me baby,” Marianne whispered in her ear.
“How about I call you beautiful.” Luna met Marianne’s eyes. “Or darling. Or love. Or–”
Marianne kissed her, slow and sweet. “Anything works. As long as I get to call you mine.”
Part 2: Friends
Marianne loved Luna like an alcoholic loved booze. It was unhealthy. Dangerous. But Luna was hers. And Marianne would do anything to keep her.
Blood dripped from Marianne’s fingers onto the kitchen floor. “Baby! What happened?” Luna held Marianne’s hand gently, inspecting the cut.
“Luna.” Her mother stood in the doorway, smiling tightly.
Luna dropped Marianne’s hand, eyes glued to the floor.
“This is why I said you can’t have guests over. Your friends always make such a mess.” Luna’s mother walked away.
Luna shook and Marianne held her for hours as the puddle of blood stained the floor red.
Part 3: Job
Marianne decided that Luna’s mother was a problem. She couldn’t even hold Luna’s hand with her mother there. She needed to fix this. Permanently.
When Luna questioned Marianne about the shovel in her trunk, Marianne brushed it off. “Just doing some construction work. As a side job until I can get the one I want.”
Luna smiled, “Need some help with your resume?”
Marianne returned home, leaving her muddy shoes by the door. Luna sat waiting, cherry stems on the counter and fingers stained red. “Back already? How was the interview?”
Marianne grinned, toothy and wide. “I got the job.”
Part 4: Red
Luna needed time to mourn her mother. Marianne expected this. She didn’t expect that Luna would stop touching her.
“For fuck’s sake, just hold my fucking hand, Luna!” Marianne snapped.
“Baby, please. You’re scaring me!” Luna begged.
“She’s gone! You can hold my hand now!” Marianne yanked her into a bruising kiss.
Luna’s eyes widened. She shoved Marianne away. “Tell me you didn’t.”
“I did it for us!” Marianne lunged forward.
Marianne trembled. Her hands, the floor, Luna. All stained red.
In the end, Marianne couldn’t keep her. There was nothing left. Except for the taste of cherries and cigarettes.
Sela Calacsan hails from the beautiful coast of California. They find comfort in soft blankets and a good book. They started collecting story ideas long ago, so this is just the beginning.
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