#self-recrimination

Hey, all. I found an interesting parallel that struck me a while back. Rather than give you my thoughts for once, though, I’m curious to see what you guys make of it first. There are so many possibilities!

Thomas lay next to her when they’d finished, each breathing deeply. Their lovemaking had caused the flow of blood to increase and he playfully drew designs on her stomach and breasts.

“Stop the blood now. You promised,” she said, weakly. “Then we can make love again.” Her words wouldn’t have made a difference, but for the first time she had lied. He heard the plea in her voice, but also the manipulation. Let me live and I’ll let you fuck me again. Playing with his mind. He admired her so, but refused to acknowledge.

“You disappoint me, Yvette,” he said instead, feigning despair. “You had been so true to yourself, yet now out of desperation you try to deceive me. I wish you hadn’t. I don’t want you to die, I truly don’t, but you leave me no choice. I won’t be manipulated. It’s a side of you I loathe.”

It was the last words he spoke to her. He continued to lay next to her, their eyes locked on one another. There was a hint of fury, of betrayal, even self-recrimination at her deception. Then she crumbled and for the first time she cried. An hour, maybe two passed and her eyes clouded and, like his beloved Yvette, she was gone.

Naked, caked with her blood, he went to his easel and began to paint her, the scar on his face pulsating with life. He had thought long and hard about his failure to replicate his Yvette and had come to the conclusion that too much time had elapsed before he had been able to paint her. Her soul, which he thought he had carried within him, had spoiled like raw hamburger left on a table too long. So now, before he disposed of this girl he would paint her.

The Burning of Angels by wildcatt

..oh god, drinking alone watching telly as an absurd rebellion against going to bed

...oh god, I have so much to get done today which is going to be so much harder now

...oh god, that's the diet blown again

...oh god, where's my self control?

I have been berating myself with these thoughts this morning, but it is pointless. Recriminations won't bring the evening back any more than worrying about how much work I have to do will help me do it. I have a hangover. That is all.