Dandelion NSFW

I remember the numbness. The absolute absence of thoughts. When I composed myself, the world rushed back in a hectic traffic-like way, even though I was standing in a library. Her small hands were fumbling a crack in the old wooden table while she was humming along with the barely audible radio. She had this shy yet calm demanor about her. Anyway, I noticed she was frowning over a big French textbook and made a semi-funny remark about petite girls and huge books. She didn’t laugh. I sat down at her table nonetheless, clumsily dropping my economy books. She snorted and I said something along the lines of her liking slapstick. We got to talking about my doctor’s degree and the French course she was advised to take and before we knew it the library was closing. That’s when she left in a hurry but not before giving me a smile I’ll remember for the rest of my life. I spent every evening of the next week at the library until I finally ‘bumped’ into her again. She was so charming and careless with that messy dark hair of hers. We met a few more times at the library and she always had to leave in a hurry but she never told me why, which made her even more intriguing. She was an ocean and I wanted to dive.

About three weeks of library-talks later, I noticed she was conflicted. Her eyes were always shifting nervously. It didn’t take me long to realize that she was attracted to me but that something was holding her back. Another boy, perhaps? I never asked, she never told. Yet it did make me think that a romance between us was impossible. To my absolute delight, I was wrong. I picked her up after her classes and told her I had an entire date night planned. She objected, saying I shouldn’t have. But she was worth it. Absolutely worth it. Every penny I spent on gifts, every second I spent on planning dates… Let’s just say I was in love. So when I got to take her virginity, I felt like the luckiest man alive. We made love in my parents’ cabin in the woods. She was nervous so I helped her relax with a glass of Merlot. She didn’t like it even though it was the most expensive bottle I could find. That didn’t matter, though. All that mattered was she.

Things didn’t stay that way, though. After about a year Vanessa kind of changed. She grew agitated… Nervous. Impatient. Sometimes she threw uncontrollable tantrums and I didn’t know what to do. Where was the girl I loved? She was in there somewhere, I could feel her presence but some days it was hard to even recognize her. Sometimes she would scream at me to give up on her. But how could I ever do that? I loved her. Though sometimes I think I was fooling myself. She had grown to be quite a handful and to be honest, I started falling out of love when she began to get fat. Her personality was gone and so was her figure. But I never could quite give up on those months of pure bliss. I wanted to see her smile again. Like that first day in the library. I tried to make her laugh. But it just wasn’t the same. And now I’ll never see it again.

“What’s this?” David groaned. The big man sent the paper sliding over the table. I arched my eyebrow. He let out a smoker’s cough and leant over the table with his hands folded. “You wanna try it again?” I shrugged. He traced his moustache with thumb and index finger down to his chin and sighed. “Sam… This isn’t gonna fly, y’know.” I nodded. “I’m sorry. It’s the best I could do.” David shook his head, took the paper, stood up and went out the door. He returned almost half an hour later. By the time he got back, my right leg was shaking so heavily that my calf cramped up. “So… What did they say?” David shook his head slowly. I sagged in my chair. “I can’t rewrite that, it’s what I feel.” David let out a sigh through his nose, making it whistle a bit. “Then there’s nothin’ I can do for you no more, Sam.” I heard some noise coming from outside. David looked at me with a worried expression. I stood up but he motioned me to stay put. He opened the door and closed it behind him. The noises grew louder and people started shouting at each other but I couldn’t quite make out the words. Then the door slammed open. A Latin woman in her thirties came in and paced around the room twice before sitting down. “What in the hell is this sob story?” I looked at her with what I thought was an apologetic glare but she just shook her head. She looked to her right and up, revealing a strong jaw line and a slim neck. “Mr Turner.” She paused for what felt like forever. My leg started to shake again. She noticed and gave me an evil grin. “Mr Turner,” she raised her eyebrows as if my name disgusted her, “you do realize that you are in a lot of trouble?” I didn’t quite understand and I let her know with a look. She leaned back in the chair and rubbed her hands. “Okay,” she smiled mockingly, “let’s see. You wrote this piece of shit.” She gestured to the piece of paper. I nodded hesitantly. “And you think we won’t find any evidence against you?” I sagged once again. I figured it was best not to say anything. I’ve had this conversation five times in the last hour and my face was still caked with tears. She got out a folder and placed pictures of Vanessa all over the table. Her glare forced me to look at them and the tears came again. So much blood. I felt her eyes boring into me and looked up. “You raped her. You killed her,” she spat. “No, I didn’t. I could never. She was already dead,” I pleaded. She kissed her teeth and looked to her right again. “Mr Turner, you agreed to a written confession and we got this sick story instead.” I grew angry. “Sick? Love is sick?” She slammed her hands on the table. That definitely hurt but I don’t think she noticed. “Your kind of love is sick. You carved her mouth open goddamnit!” That was it. I flew at her with hands wide open but the cuffs restrained me from getting a hold of her. “You see that, Mr Turner? That’s how you handled Vanessa.” I sat back down, contemplating the last twenty years of my life. Boring teenage years, boring adulthood. She was all I had. I shook my head. “I loved Vanessa. I could never hurt her. But she withered away so I left and now she’s…” The detective clenched her teeth so hard I swear I could hear them crack. “She didn’t wither away, Mr Turner. She…” She was interrupted by the door opening. “Detective Vazquez? Parents are here.” She nodded and turned back to me. “Tell her parents I loved their daughter dearly. We lead a full and happy life together, for as long as it lasted.” The detective’s face turned ice. I could see the veins pulsating in her neck. She turned the table over and let it fall on my kneecaps. The blow stung so hard I teared up. “Full?” I heard her shouting. “You want me to say that to people who have to bury a thirteen year old?”