Her Red Lips This work is considered exceptional by our editorial staff.

April 5, 2010
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He always wondered how she kept her lips so red all of the time. It was strange how often that popped into his mind. Not enough to be an obsession, but enough to be more than a passing thought. They’d been together for almost five years now. They talked to each other about everything, or at least, they used to. The conversations they had now were more…. one-sided. She never hid anything from him and answered every question he asked her. That is, every question but one. He’d only asked her once, but she just grinned slightly and walked away, throwing her hair back like she always did. He asked that question three years ago. Every so often, he’d find himself lying in bed, staring at the ceiling as he wondered what her secret was. Some nights he thought he had figured it out, and his left arm would start pulsing.

Unbeknownst to him, she would lie awake just as often as he did and often at the same time. He usually slept on his back, and she on her side, sometimes resting her head on his chest, but most of the time with her back to him. She’d know when he was awake. He usually moved in his sleep, and he lay completely still whenever he was awake. He didn’t know that she was awake most of the time. Not that he was unobservant; he was just distracted by the thoughts running through his mind. When she knew he couldn’t see her face, she would smile and lick her lips, savoring the taste that lingered on them.

It was always like that at night with them in the end. Like any other couple, they had their romantic times. There was a definite passion between them. Whenever their eyes met, there was a fire so great, it was almost visible. But as time went on, that fire dwindled. There was only a spark now, and she fought for it to stay alive. She tried everything she could to hold onto him. She would kiss him tenderly on his neck, embrace him tightly and listen to his heartbeat, and love him more than any man could have asked for. In bed, she made sure there was no parallel to her. She wanted no chance of losing him. One might think that she was trying too hard, but it could never end like that.

His dying flame wasn’t from a lack of interest in her, no, far from that. It was his increasing apathy that got between them. For the last year and a half, she had noticed his eyes dimming each day. He never had an opinion on anything, or, if he did, he never voiced it. His facial expression was always the same; a constant neutral showing of practically nothing. He rarely said anything, and when he did it was usually muttering under his breath. But she loved him all the same. She was always around him when he was home, which was more often than not. The only things closer to him than she were her lips.

That night was like so many others. His arm was pulsing again and she could feel it against her back. She smiled as always and licked her lips, taking care to slowly drag her tongue across the entirety of her lower lip before continuing to the top. Morning came as it does every day and he got out of bed, carefully, before she did so that he did not disturb her. Such little actions showed how he cared for her. He walked silently to the bathroom and closed the door before turning the light on. He still cared. He started the shower then stepped in. When he was finished he grabbed his towel, wrapped it around his waist and stepped out. He turned the lights off for a second. He saw only darkness from under the door. She was still sleeping. He almost smiled.

Turning the lights back on, he went to the mirror, soaking up the steam that was trapped in the room. He was about to wipe off the mirror when something caught his eye. A gilded tube sat on the counter with the sink, in the corner right under the mirror. It was a lipstick tube. He leaned down to get a closer look, and saw a small stain on the bottom of the cap- it was red. His arm twitched. In her sleep, she licked her lips. He reached forward and picked up the tube, uncapping it without hesitation. The lipstick was a deep hue of red. It matched her lips. His arm began pulsating in such a way it almost pained him, as he was barely able to keep from wincing. He took his towel and wiped his left arm dry. As he brought it back down, he saw in the mirror a large stain of red on his white towel. He looked swiftly at his arm and saw his scar. The eight inch-long scar had re-opened and his blood was steadily flowing.

In the next room, she sat up and cleaned off the blade she kept in her bedside table. She put it away and licked her lips again. She loved that taste. She loved him. She loved his taste. And she knew he cared. After all, he had always wondered how she kept her lips so red all of the time.

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SwordGirl said...
May 9, 2010 at 6:55 pm
Wow! This was amazing! I was completely captivated all the way to the end. You should definitely keep writing.
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