Pushed Deeper

It was the unexpected, unwelcome coughs that stirred me from my sleep. Dust particles danced in the air as each cough expelled bursts of air from my lungs. Through the window, I spotted the same pair of birds I had seen the day before, perched on the sill, their vibrant feathers illuminated by the morning sun as they nuzzled each other affectionately.



I rose from the floor where I had unintentionally fallen asleep, taking in the serene sight of her sleeping form in the bed, cocooned in white sheets. With a gentle touch, I sat beside her, admiring the peaceful expression on her face. As my fingers brushed through her hair, it emitted a soft melody akin to the birds' songs outside.



I reached out to trace the outline of her shoulder exposed by the sheets, before sliding my hand down her arm and beneath the covers, exploring the curves of her body. Wrapping my arm around her waist, I gently turned her towards me.



Her eyes fluttered open slightly as I leaned in to plant a kiss on her forehead. "Good morning, sweetie," she whispered softly.



"Good morning, my love," I replied, pulling her closer and drawing the sheets over us. "I hope you slept well."



"Yes, I did," I replied, shifting uncomfortably under her concerned gaze. I couldn't remember much from the night before—how I ended up on the floor, whether we both slept there, or if it was just me. Questions swirled in my mind, clouding my thoughts beneath the comforting embrace of the white duvet.



"I... I don't remember," I finally admitted, my voice tinged with uncertainty.



She propped herself up on her elbow, her expression filled with worry. "What do you mean by that?"



Her thumb gently caressed my chin as she studied my face. "Did you sleep at all? Are you feeling okay?"



"I... I don't remember," I repeated, feeling the weight of confusion settling in.



"What's wrong, honey? Are you okay?" she pressed, her thumb still tracing soothing circles on my skin.



"It's... it's hard to explain," I stammered. "Strange things have been happening to me lately."



"Like what?" she inquired, her touch offering some comfort amidst the uncertainty.



"Like... I find myself buying things I don't need. I wake up on the floor without any recollection of how I got there. And these scars..." I trailed off, my voice trembling. "I don't remember getting them, but they're there."





You know, a few days ago, I went to the supermarket to pick up some groceries, and guess what I ended up buying? Sanitary pads! The woman behind me in line gave me these strange looks, as if I had just picked up something incredibly sinister."



At first, she burst into laughter, her face lighting up with amusement. It was like watching a child laugh uncontrollably, as if I had cracked the funniest joke in the world and she couldn't contain herself.



But then, her expression shifted suddenly. Her smile vanished, replaced by a seriousness that mirrored the gravity of the situation. "Tell me you're joking," she said, her tone dead serious.



"Do I seem like I'm joking about this?" I replied, taken aback by her sudden change in demeanor.



"Arthur, if everything you're telling me is true, then this is a serious issue. We need to do something about it," she insisted, her concern palpable.



I hesitated for a moment, unsure of how to respond. "Um... yeah," I mumbled.



"We should consider seeing a psychiatrist," she suggested firmly.



"A psychiatrist?" I repeated, feeling a surge of anger rising within me.



"Yes, it sounds like something a psychiatrist should look into," she explained, her tone unwavering.



"I'm not crazy," I snapped, my frustration bubbling to the surface.



Cupping my face in her soft, delicate hands, she drew me closer to her and spoke gently, her words filled with understanding and compassion.



"I'm not suggesting this because I think you're crazy, darling. Consulting a psychiatrist for mental health concerns is just like seeing a doctor when you have a fever. It's perfectly normal," she reassured me.



I gazed into her eyes, finding solace in the depths of her sympathy, love, and care. Running my fingers through her wavy locks, I pulled her closer, our lips meeting in a tender kiss reminiscent of the affectionate pecks exchanged by the pair of birds outside our window. She straddled me, her legs entwined with mine as my hands trailed down her back, exploring the curves of her hips.



With a gentle push, I guided her above me, our bodies moving in sync as our mouths melded together. The intensity of our passion grew, her breath quickening against my lips as I pressed her down onto the bed.



"Morning love is always a beautiful way to start the day," I whispered, a smile playing on my lips as I deepened our connection.



She giggled in response, wrapping her legs around me as I moved to deepen our intimacy. With each movement, her soft moans filled the air, echoing like a melody in the quiet morning.



With a sudden push, I entered her, and in that moment, it felt as if time stood still. The intensity of our passion ignited like a flame, consuming us both in its fervor. Our bodies moved together in a dance of desire, fueled by the heat of our connection.



Lost in the moment, we surrendered to the primal urges coursing through us, heedless of any consequences. It was as if we had tasted the forbidden fruit and were now consumed by its intoxicating allure. She gripped the sheets tightly in her fists, her nails digging into my neck as I positioned her legs on my shoulders and explored her depths with my fingers.



Her moans mingled with the melodies of the birds outside, creating a symphony of ecstasy. As I pushed deeper into her, I could feel the warmth of her passion enveloping me, drawing me further into the depths of desire.



A smirk played on her lips as she watched me taste the blood from where her nails had pierced my skin. It was a ritual we both enjoyed—a reminder of the raw, primal connection between us. She tasted like heaven, and in that moment, there was nothing else in the world but the two of us, lost in the throes of passion.



Exiting the kitchen with two mugs of freshly brewed coffee, I made my way towards her. She stood by the window, her back to me, adorned in my oversized silk robe, which she effortlessly made look elegant. The robe's strap loosely tied around her waist as she gazed out at the sparrows chirping on the tree branches. It was late in the morning, but we had finally managed to leave the warmth of our bed behind. It had indeed been a magical morning, as I had mentioned earlier.



The sensation of her skin against mine was nothing short of mesmerizing, leaving me at a loss for words as I attempted to articulate the ecstasy I felt when I was with her.



Turning around, she greeted me with a brief smile as she accepted the mug from my hands. Her attention returned to the birds outside, and she asked, "Do you like birds?"



"Who doesn't?" I replied with a soft chuckle.



"Yeah... well..." she trailed off, her expression shifting to one of concern. "I'll make an appointment with a doctor for you. We can go together. Don't worry."



I hummed in response, still grappling with the idea that I might be facing some sort of issue. Everything felt normal to me—I didn't notice any abnormalities in my body. Apart from a few changes in behavior, I felt perfectly fine.



As I took a sip from my mug, I pondered whether I should really follow her instructions and visit the doctor.



"Okay, I'll make an appointment," I finally conceded.



"Good," she replied with a nod, taking another sip from her mug before her phone rang on the table. Hurrying over, she answered the call with enthusiasm.



"Hey, Aunt!" she exclaimed, her voice filled with excitement. It was evident that she was delighted to hear from her aunt. There's something special about hearing from a family member—it brings back a flood of memories, both joyful and bittersweet. Despite it being ages since I felt that same elation, I couldn't help but reminisce about the precious moments I shared with my own family.



After my mom passed away and my dad remarried, he became so engrossed in his new life that he seemed to forget about me, his son. Despite everything he did to my mom, I couldn't deny the fact that he's still my father. The feeling of loneliness had become a familiar companion, though I had learned to push it aside over time. But every now and then, it would resurface, flooding my mind with memories of the days spent with my family.



As she returned, the joy that had radiated from her face moments ago seemed to have vanished, replaced by a pallor that sent a shiver down my spine. Her voice trembled with a palpable sense of distress, as if she had received news so devastating that her fragile heart struggled to comprehend it. Tears streamed down her cheeks, and I reached out to clutch her shoulders, desperate to offer whatever comfort I could.



"What happened? Who was on the call?" I implored, bombarding her with questions, but she was too overwhelmed to respond.



Leading her to the sofa, I gently guided her into a seat, then hurried to the kitchen to fetch a glass of water. Her hands shook so violently that she struggled to hold the glass without it slipping from her grasp. Pressing the glass to her lips, I helped her take a few sips, then settled beside her, my hand resting soothingly on her back as I silently urged her to calm down so that she could share what had distressed her so deeply.



"Arthur." She said my name with each of its syllables cascading out of her mouth.

"Yes. Tell me. Who was on the call?"

"Aunt."

"Yeah, what she said."

"Arthhh..ur.... She's no more...

It was her son on the call and he informed me about it."

I felt like the floor just slipped off form beneath my feet, even though, I had no blood relationship with her but I didn't why it seemed like as if someone from my life, my closest member has left us. I felt her pain and tears made their way out of my eyes.

I made a promise with her that both of us will go to her place. I'd take her on her funeral. Who knew who's funeral it's gonna be.