adrian-hawk

The virus seemed to be thriving on his misery, relentlessly tearing through his insides.Every day it made its rounds through his body. It started at his fingers, making them itch to touch her until he could almost feel her fleshy lips beneath his thumb, the silky strands of her hair sliding through his fingers. It would then move up to his arms, creating an urge to hold her, an urge that could not be fulfilled.Next it went for his eyes, causing him to see her everywhere, in every little thing. He would see her in the kitchen, making coffee. He would see her cuddled up on the sofa, watching T.V. He had to blink several times before he realised that she wasn__ really there. It would then move to his heart, ruthlessly choking it until it was so heavy and so sore, he could feel the pain of losing her in every beat.And then, finally, just as night fell, it would attack his brain, invoking images of her.Thoughts and memories and dreams. He could not take much more. It was slowly driving him insane. He could not break out of these shackles.

The virus was rapidly spreading. It had infected his mind, eating away at everything except thoughts of her.

She never asked for that time yet she ended up getting it. He could not get away from her. Even if his feet moved at a hundred miles per hour, she was always right there, vividly imprinted in his mind. Calling him back to her. And he obediently responded to those calls. He was blindly being led by an all-consuming power that he had no control over.

He had wanted to cure the virus by getting rid of the source, but nothing prepared him for the hurt and disappointment he saw in her eyes.

Women problems, huh?_ Mac asked.__he__ more than a problem._ Adrian massaged his temples. __he___a virus, a lethal one. You know, there__ a rock song about her._ He sipped his whiskey and enjoyed the burning sensation as it trickled down his throat. __t__ called Poison.

Having sex with her had been a catalyst, new flesh for the virus to feed on. No matter how hard he tried to block her out, she was always there at the back of his mind. Calling him. Begging him to go to her.

The virus that had lay dormant for two years had been reawakened by simply seeing her smile. He thought he would be impervious to it by now, but every time her eyes changed colour, every time she giggled, it just caused the infection to spread. He had no idea why he continued to torment himself this way; burning for a woman he knew he could not have.He happily spent an hour or two with her each day and then braced himself for the self-inflicted torture that inevitably ensued at night. That torture had become his way of life, but he found that a worse fate would be not seeing at all.