Everything is beautiful and Nothing hurts after 20 past 6
He comes home always at the same time. It sounds boring but it's the only ritual in my life that makes me feel content.
Always 20 past 6. Never earlier, never later.
I don't have 24 hours in a day. I have the hours before 20 past 6 and the hours after 20 past 6. When his hands start touching me. And they never stop until he leaves. I count down the minutes until it's 6:20. And when it's time, I don't want it to end ever.
When I told him what I wanted to be for him, I could see the little smirk he's been hiding. I said "try me". "Try me, give me all the filth you can give." He inhaled my words like he's been waiting to hear that for years. He didn't need to say it back. All day, he's been staring at the clock waiting until it's time to unleash the devil. To reach to this place where he doesn't need to be ashamed of turning into a monster. To this little kingdom he runs. Where he's free to explore, expand, try and fail with no judgement.
The shame I feel when he appears at the door, that's the reason I never have words to say to him. Deep dark shame I feel when I remember how I'm treated like an animal each time he enters this door. And how I count hours waiting for him to do the same again. Every single day. Sometimes I remember those hours in the supermarket, in a meeting; my cheeks go red. I look down my cleavage remembering the things he did to my body. Every single thing he called me, echoes in my ears. "You can keep crying because it's not over yet, I'm not done with you." Pushing my shopping cart, red cheeks, sometimes I can still feel him in me.. focus on shopping... "You live to be slapped by me. Right, you little bitch?" I turn some music on to forget how I crave for him.
When I hear him opening the door, I swallow my words. I can't say a word to him. Ever. Like I haven't been working, laughing with others during lunch break, shopping, cooking, walking that day before 6:20. I want to forget my daily life, no, I want to forget how it felt to behave like a human being. No, no, I want to believe I've been waiting here, all day, until it's 20 past 6. I'm not the girl pushing the shopping cart... I exist for this.
He needs me trembling, dripping, melted and eager. And he always gets what he wants. I don't need him kind, he can save all the kind for work. Leave the kind outside. That's our secret agreement. Everyday when it's 20 past 6.