Hollow

I love the feel of his hair between my fingers. I grabbed at the short blonde strands, letting them slide between my fingers like fine silk. He pounded into me harder, and my body shuddered beneath him.

I love the feel of it. When our naked bodies are entwined, his heart pounding against my chest, I feel alive. When he's inside of me, I'm no longer empty.

"God, Sam, you feel so good," Brian told me, kneading my breasts with his hands. He moaned as I squirmed beneath him, both of us enjoying the feel. He wrapped his arms behind my back, pulling us together. I surrendered to him, letting myself be taken away by his soft, sweaty skin and the crimson, satin sheets enfolding us.

I had met Brian a few days ago. We were both hanging out at a local dive, and he bought me a few drinks. He was funny and cute with soft, pale blue eyes. His face held that beautiful boyish charm. I couldn't resist him. We're not ‘together,' because neither of us wants a relationship, but we can fulfill each other's sexual needs. That's good enough for now.

My eyes went wide as he pumped into me harder, faster. He smiled down at me, amused at my surprised expression. I smiled back.

It's good to not be alone.

I don't want the emotional strain of a relationship. I don't want the pain and heartbreak that comes when a good relationship ends. I can't handle the responsibility that having a boyfriend would bring. I don't want to be romantically involved.

I bit Brian's shoulder, lightly, submitting to my need, enjoying the feel of his soft flesh between my teeth. It tasted salty from his sweat. I love the scent of his pale, milky skin. He moaned and I felt him pulsate inside of me, felt him fill me. His body trembled above mine as he came.

He looked down at me, breathing heavily, a slight smile on his lips. He leaned down and kissed me, and I let myself sink into him, lost in the moment.

David and I sat on the couch in his dorm. We were alone, just the two of us.

"Why?" I asked him, looking into his green eyes. He just looked back at me, and I couldn't tell if he cared or not that I was on the verge of tears.

"I'm just not interested in you anymore," he said. "I don't want to be with you anymore."

"Please… can't we make this work?" I pleaded.

"I don't think it can work," he told me. His voice sounded so distant, so void of emotion. He was breaking up with me. He didn't want to be with me anymore. He didn't care at all. My skin went cold, and I could feel the emptiness growing inside of me, everything becoming dark. I wanted to beg him not to leave me. I wanted him to wrap me in his arms and comfort me and tell me it would all be okay.

"Don't you love me anymore?" I asked, the first tears trickling from my eyes.

David just looked at me. He didn't answer, because he didn't have to.

I sat on the edge of my bed, looking down at the floor. I dug my fingers into the satin sheets beneath me, wanting to feel their smooth softness. I always loved the feel of skin against satin.

I looked up across my room. The walls surrounded me, painted a dusty red. A mirror sat above my dresser, and I could see myself in it from here. My red lipstick was faded, and my long blonde hair was tousled from sex. Brian had left right after we finished. The emptiness of the room surrounded me, wrapping itself around me. I hate how empty my room feels when I'm the only one in it.

Night is the hardest time to be alive. The darkness before dawn is all consuming. It envelopes me, invading my mind, stealing my secrets. I hugged my naked body, wrapping the sheets around me. I don't want to feel this way anymore.

I glanced at the shelf next to my bed. My favorite doll sat on the top of the shelf, its dark brown eyes staring out at nothing. Her dark, wavy auburn hair was a beautiful contrast with her pale, porcelain skin. The doll's little red dress had frills around the hems, and on her feet she wore black Mary Janes. I've had that doll since I was a child.

I looked back at the mirror. I pushed some of the blonde waves of my hair out of my face, wanting to see myself better. My eyes looked dead; they held no sparkle.

I feel numb, dead inside. I don't want to be like this anymore. The emptiness is eating away at me, and I can't take it for much longer.

I need the feel of someone next to me. I need to feel the beating of his heart. I don't think my shallow heart beats anymore. It's still and lifeless inside of me. There is no guy who wants me, truly wants me. Romance is dead and no one even cares.

I heard a soft rustle to the side of me, then the sharp crashing sound of something breaking. Startled, I leaned over the side of my bed and looked down at the floor. My doll lay there, shattered into fragments of porcelain. One of her brown eyes sat, still captured by a piece of her face, staring up at me, unseeing.

He moved fluidly on top of me, taking his time. I ran my hands through Will's hair, enjoying the feel of the long strands of blonde between my fingers as he moved slowly in and out of me. His green eyes watched me as I savored his lingering movements. I moaned, wanting more, wanting to be filled by him, really filled.

I don't need love. Love isn't real. Right now, Will and I are entangled in my sheets, sweaty, our hearts pounding with our need. Our need is real. I can feel him inside of me. This is reality, nothing more, nothing less. There's no need to involve love in this.

Brian was busy today, so I went to the bar again. I met Will, and we ended up here.

Brian was the first guy I had casual sex with. I didn't know how I'd feel about it, really. I thought it would make me hurt, somehow, but it didn't. Is it because I'm numb? I'm not sure. Should this hurt me? Maybe I'm thinking too much. I should just let go and allow myself to live in the moment.

It seems that sex is the only time I feel alive, but maybe that's enough.

Will moaned into my hair, beginning to thrust into me a little harder, a little faster. I hugged his tan body, feeling tears form at the edges of my eyes. I let my face rest against his neck, my breathing quick and heavy. Our hearts pounded, and I wanted this to last.

Where am I?

I opened my eyes, looking around the room. It was my room. I looked up at my mirror, pushing my hair out of my eyes so I could see clearly. I was naked, on all fours, Brian pumping into me from behind.

How did I get here? I don't remember exactly. Everything seems fuzzy in my head. I don't remember Brian coming over.

He pounded into me, and I cried out, clinging to the crimson sheets beneath me. My hands clenched around the fabric and I choked down a scream as he forced himself in me as deeply as he could. It hurt, but the pain was good, it was real; I could feel him inside of me.

What's wrong with me? Why am I having trouble remembering things? We'd been having sex for a while; I could tell because my skin was slick with sweat. I glanced over at the shelf. My doll sat there, staring straight ahead at nothing.

Some of the fog cleared in my mind. That's right, I remember Brian calling me, asking if he could come over. I faintly remember talking to him on the phone.

Brian's hands wrapped around my hips, and he went in deeper, rougher. I hugged the sheets beneath me and felt a sharp pain in my hand. I opened up my right hand and brought it in front of my face. There was a deep slash across my palm, the blood thick on my skin. Strange. I don't remember cutting it.

"Oh God, I'm coming," Brian moaned behind me, his grip on my hips tightening. He rode me, both of us slaves to our passion.

"Don't worry, I'll see you later."

"You always say that, but you never come over later," I argued.

Jason just looked at me, and I could tell he was hardly listening to what I was saying. He ran a hand through his scruffy brown hair; he always does that when he's trying to think up excuses.

"I'll come over later," he said. "I just want to go hang out with my friends for awhile."

"I could come with you?" I asked.

"No, it's cool, you don't have to come with me," he replied, not even considering it. "We're just going to go do guy stuff, you know. Hang out, watch movies."

"You haven't spent any time with me in weeks," I told him.

"I took you out a couple weekends ago," Jason responded. "Don't you remember?"

"I do remember," I said. "You took me to the movies… along with a bunch of your friends."

"It was a great movie."

I just looked at him, wondering if he was even hearing me at all. He had just driven me home from school, and we were now standing in front of my house, my empty house, and he was already leaving. My parents wouldn't be home from work for a couple hours, and he was just going to leave and go hang out with his friends. I'm sure he considered the five-minute drive from school to my house as quality time with his girlfriend.

"You promise you'll come over later?" I asked.

"Of course I do," he told me, and in his brown eyes it almost looked like he meant it.

He kissed my forehead and got into his car. I watched him drive away, knowing he wouldn't be back later that day.

I opened my eyes to see a man's face staring down at me, his brown eyes focused on me.

Jason?

He continued to pump into me, sweat beginning to form around on his forehead and around his hair. He had short, kind of scruffy brown hair, just like Jason.

No, not Jason. This man wasn't Jason. Shit, I can't remember his name. Where had I met him?

Damn. I can't remember.

"You're so beautiful, Sam," the man told me. He pulled out, and I felt the sudden emptiness inside of me.

"Roll over," he said. "I want to do you on all fours and watch you in the mirror."

I obliged him and rolled over onto my stomach, propping myself up on my hands and knees. He entered me again, forcing himself inside of me quick and rough, and I cried out from the shock of it. I could see him in my mirror, pumping into me with abandon. He pushed down on my back, forcing my upper torso against the bed. My long hair fell in front of my face, blocking my view of most of my room, as he continued to fuck me from behind.

I heard a crash to the left of me. The man behind me didn't miss a beat; I don't think he heard the noise. I managed to peer out from behind my hair and look at the floor near my bed as he continued to thrust into me. I could make out a small porcelain hand, the wrist made up of sharp edges with no arm attached to it. There were also some thick strands of wavy auburn hair, and I could see one dark eye peering up at me, lifeless among its broken body.

My mouth was full of salty skin. The man in front of me was pounding into my mouth, gripping my hair almost painfully in his hands, fucking my face. Another man was behind me, doing me doggy style.

God, how did I end up here? I don't even know these guys' names.

The man in front of me gripped my hair tighter, pressing into my face. He pulsated in my mouth, and I could taste the bitter saltiness of his thick semen on my tongue and in the back of my throat.

"No, don't," he said as I began to pull away a bit. "I can go for another round."

So I kept my face where it was as he moved slowly in and out of my mouth. He stayed hard, and I tried to concentrate on not letting my teeth scrape against his skin as the man behind me continued to hammer into me.

I can't even tell if I enjoy this or not. How did I become this? How did things end up this way?

I don't think I want to do this anymore, but I don't want them to leave, either. I'm not sure what I want.

I heard a crashing sound come from the floor near my bed. My doll? Is it broken? The man in front of me was shoving himself into my face, so I couldn't look over to see.

Was it broken?

I looked in the mirror again, taking in my dull reflection. My pale skin looked even paler against the backdrop of the walls, which were a dusty shade of red. I looked lifeless.

I sighed and stood up, letting my satin sheets fall from around my body. I walked over to the side of my bed, looking down at my shattered doll. I could see the shards of porcelain clearly on the cherry wood floor.

Too many pieces. Is this fixable?

I kneeled down and began picking pieces of my doll off the floor. All of those cold, hard shards… I held them delicately, not wanting to make the damage worse. Could I really glue these back together? I doubted it.

I saw one of her tiny hands peeking out from behind the curtain of her auburn hair. I lifted it up gently. It was so frail. No arm was attached to it. The wrist was jagged, made up of sharp corners. I placed it in my left hand and went to pick up another shard. This one looked like it used to be part of her face. Her cheek, maybe? I clasped it in my hand and felt a sharp sensation. It fell and broke in two.

"Dammit," I sighed.

I looked down at my right hand. It had a large gash across the palm. Thick blood was beginning to ooze out from behind my skin. It pooled and began to move in small trickles towards my fingers and wrist.

How would I fix this?

"David, it's my birthday."

"I know it is," he told me, "but I have to work."

"Why didn't you take off today?"

He sighed. "Sam, you know I need the money."

"It's just one day," I said. "One day. My birthday."

"I know," David replied. "We'll spend time together later."

"You're leaving me alone on my birthday," I said, tears beginning to form at the corners of my eyes.

"You know I love you."

"I know," I said, sniffling slightly, trying to hold back the tears. I ran my hands through David's short, brown hair, trying to focus on the feel of it, trying to focus on anything but the sadness I felt. I didn't want him to see me cry.

He'd be gone in a minute, and I'd have plenty of time to cry alone. I looked into his green eyes, trying to memorize them, wanting him to never be away from me.

Green eyes. Green eyes looked down at me, watching me.

David?

He was moving fluidly on top of me; I could feel him inside of me, moving slowly in and out.

No, not David. Someone else.

What's going on? How did I end up here?

I looked at the man on top of me, trying to remember. He seemed familiar, somehow, but I couldn't quite place it.

I heard a crashing sound from beside my bed. I was lying on my bed, and I couldn't look over at the floor from this angle. What had broken? I could see the top of my shelf from here. It was empty.

Where was my doll?

My eyes went back to the man on top of me. Will, his name was Will. That's right. How had I confused him with David? Will's hair was longish and blonde; David's was short and brown.

I dug my fingers into his back, his skin slippery with sweat. Its saltiness stung my right hand.

Stung? Why did my hand hurt?

I brought my right hand around so I could see it. It was smeared with red. From behind the blood, I could make out a deep gash in my palm.

What had cut my hand?

I hate crying. I hate feeling this dead inside, this hollow.

I was curled up in the corner of my room, hugging my knees. The room felt cold and empty. My hair hung around my face like a curtain, obscuring my eyes, though the only thing to see would be my walls, anyway.

I felt the warms tears trickling down my cheeks, dripping from my chin onto my arms. They quickly cooled and made my skin seem all the colder.

Everything is broken. I don't want things to be this way.

Make it stop.

Please, make it stop.

Everything is dark.

I could feel someone pounding inside of me. I opened my eyes slowly, looking around the room. The walls are a dusty shade of red. I looked underneath of me and saw crimson satin sheets.

Where am I?

I looked in front of me and saw myself in the mirror. A man with dark brown skin and a shaved head was behind me, fucking me. He was built; I could see his muscles work as he pumped into me.

I don't remember being here. Who is this man? Do I know him?

No, I'm sure I know him somehow.

I watched him in the mirror, his muscles flexing as he slammed into me again and again, forcing small noises from the back of my throat.

I looked around the room a bit more, trying to figure out where I was. I could see a shelf with a little doll sitting on top of it. The doll looked… familiar.

"Oh, Julie, you feel so good," he moaned.

"What? My name's not Julie; it's Sam," I said, trying to pull away from him, but he held tightly onto my hips.

"No, for tonight your name is Julie," he told me.

I stopped trying to pull away and surrendered myself to him. It really wasn't important.

The man used his hand to push my face into the bed, pounding into me harder. Now all I could see were blonde strands of my hair and the dark crimson sheets beneath me.

I was at the playground at the nearby elementary school. The swings were in decent condition. Jason was in the swing to my right, both of us swaying in the wind. I always love going to the playground. I'm not sure if we're legally allowed to be here or not, but no one's yelled at us yet. Quiet moments like these with Jason are always so special to me.

"What are you thinking?" I asked him, trying to break the silence.

"Nothin'," he replied.

I sighed, looking at the rest of the playground to my left. The equipment looked old and worn, the slide crooked from being used so much. The air currents moved the merry-go-round slightly, causing the metal structure to creak. Strands of my hair flew in front of my face, blowing in the wind, and I pushed them back behind my ear.

"Sam…" Jason said, causing me to look over at him. "We need to talk…"

I looked back to my left, watching the playground. I knew what was coming next. I knew what he wanted to talk about, but I was still afraid to hear it.

Jason was leaving me.

He was still pounding into me from behind.

I looked up into the mirror. I saw a man with tan skin and blonde hair doing me doggy style. I almost shook my head at the image. It seemed wrong, somehow. Off.

Wasn't I…?

I looked around at my room. Same red walls, same crimson sheets, same doll on the shelf. For some reason I felt like I should be confused. It seemed like the man behind me should be muscular, with brown skin and a clean-shaven head.

I want to escape.

I felt Will inside of me, but I didn't feel filled. How can I still feel empty? Nothing makes sense anymore.

How can I feel trapped here? This is what I want to do, isn't it?

Something's not right…

How do I get out of here?

I heard a crashing noise from nearby. I glanced over at the shelf, and it was empty.

I don't recognize the man on top of me. He doesn't look familiar at all. He had bleach-blonde hair with dark roots showing; I had always hated that style.

I'm not sure if I still feel alone or not right now. I can't tell anymore. Loneliness is just a feeling, anyway. All I want is him inside of me. I want to stay trapped in this moment, because once he leaves I know it'll be over. Moments never last long enough. Nothing lasts. It doesn't matter, though. Nothing matters.

I don't even care. I'm not alone. That's what matters. I'm not alone.

I didn't make any noise as he fucked me. He didn't seem to notice. My body was limp as he positioned me however he wanted. I feel lifeless.

I can feel him inside of me, but something's broken. My skin is still cold. Everything is cold and empty.

I think my heart stopped beating a long time ago.

I'm not sure… if I can still feel anything at all…