(via morganfreeman)
"You make my heart happy."
She was standing there in front of the mirror, looking down at her hands. Her small hands, her chubby fingers. She was afraid to look up; how could she ever see the same person as he did? She wasn’t beautiful, that she knew, then how could he ever think she was pretty to begin with? Whatever reason she came up with, nothing could convince her she was even worth looking at.
Still looking down, she felt a pair of hands on her hips. She could recognise those hands out of a million: they were her boyfriend’s. She smiled a little, but kept staring at her chubby hands. She still couldn’t find the courage to tilt her head up and look at her gorgeous boyfriend’s image in the mirror.
She felt his soft lips against the back of her neck now. Slowly making their way to the side and then all the way up to her chin. She was facing the mirror, but still had her eyes closed.
“Open your eyes and look at yourself in the mirror”, he whispered softly in her ear, kissing her earlobe.
She swallowed, giving her brain the time to form a sentence or two, and then replied, “I can’t. I just can’t see the same person as you do.”
“Open your eyes and look at yourself in the mirror,” he said once again, “do it for me.” His left arm curled around her belly, while his other was caressing her back. “Please”, he said one last time.
She opened her eyes. The only thing she saw, was a chubby, ugly duckling. She could not believe how such an amazing and handsome guy could ever love a girl like her.
“You make my heart happy”, he said, which made her giggle. He loved her giggle so much. ”You’re the most beautiful girl in the world to me. Please don’t ever change, for no one.”
And for the first time, she actually believed him.
When It All Falls Apart
He was pressed against me, his lips against my throat and one hand behind my neck while the other trailed down my back until he found the perfect nook where my back began to curve into my behind. He held me there in the small, dark closet space as the Earth’s trembles became tremendous jolts and everything outside of the closet could be heard falling and breaking apart. The crash of delicate glass falling from the cupboards to the tiled floor, the sounds of abandoned crying car alarms, and the crunch of trees colliding on the street all echoed throughout the house which was moaning from the pressure the earthquake was pushing on it.
And for a second I was afraid. Not for the obvious reason of the house collapsing on us or being swallowed by a gaping crack in the street like in cartoons, but for the reason that I knew I was going to die today. From a collapsed house, to being swallowed whole, or from what ever came after this if we managed to survive. I was never going to walk the cobbled streets of London, or celebrate a Chinese New Year, or see the aural lights. I was never going to live in my little house with a tire swing in the front yard, or have children and watch them grow. I was never going to be married. And I was never going to experience love.
For all those reasons my fear began to develop into an unbarring sadness. I would never get to live. I would never even get the chance to. It wasn’t until I felt his warm lips travel across my jawline and his hot breath against my ear whisper in the most delicate voice, “Don’t be afraid,” that I felt any kind of reassurance since all of channels on T.V. went off air. All the fear that had developed in those tiny seconds suddenly dissolved as his hands traced over the curves of my body and pushed us behind the jackets and against a wall. His hands gripped the sides of my thighs and quickly lifted me up as I wrapped my legs around his waist. My lips instinctively found his neck as he bit gently into my collarbone. I bit my own lip to suppress a moan before reaching up and casing his face between my hands and kissing him lustfully, our tongues rubbing and twisting around each other.
The house continued to groan as the sounds of breaking dishes and windows continued on with the ground seemingly breaking apart from the intense earthquake, but as I felt him push into me everything felt so irrelevant. There was only us and our bodies and that tiny bit of closet space. I pressed my forehead against his as our thrusts became more rhythmic and gripped onto his back. I could barely make out his eyes, but I could feel them staring into mine with the most compassion and sympathy I had ever felt from anyone up until that moment. There was a sudden cracking noise, as if the house was being torn apart which caused him to quicken his pace and instantly make my muscles tense as I reached the climax. My mouth let out a high moan and he thrust deeply into me causing him to reach his. Our breaths were in unison as I rode out my high on his thrusts. He broke eye contact with an exasperated groan and rested his head on my shoulder trying to catch his breath. I gently kissed his cheek and he turned up his head to meet with my lips for a lazy kiss.
If this wasn’t love, this was as close as I was going to get to it. I smiled into our kiss, breaking us apart and he tiredly hummed a small ‘hmm’. I wrapped my arms around his neck and pulled him into a tight embrace. I could hear the upper level of the house begin to collapse.
Whispering, I felt his arms tighten around my waist securing our embrace.
“Some people search all their lives for love and I found mine with a stranger, in a closet, at the end of the world.”
He gently cupped one of my cheeks making me lean into his hand before he kissed me so deeply I could feel our heartbeats as one. He pulled away as the house began to roar, and the ceiling began cracking. I buried my face into his shoulder and held onto him tightly. I felt him kiss the top of my head before replying,
“I’ll see you on the other side.”(Submitted by messofyouthfulinnocence)
wow.love.
Am i actually gonna do this?
flirt with this one guy when E is waiting for me on another country?
it sounds so absurd when i look at it now.Another country..no communication yet i want him so badly that i can actually wait for him.But then A is here.And he wants me and i sort of want him too a bit.Are you worth waiting for?Am I making a big mistake?I guess we’re gonna find out now aren’t we?…we’ll see
The story of Junko Furuta, the girl who went through 44 days of torture
Don’t read this if you can’t handle reading about violence.
This is the story of Junko Furuta, a 17 year old girl who was held captive by 4 teenagers.
DAY 1: November 22, 1988: Kidnapped
Kept captive in house, and posed as one of boy’s girlfriend
Raped (over 400 times in total)
Forced to call her parents and tell them she had run away
Starved and malnutritioned
Fed cockroaches to eat and urine to drink
Forced to masturbate
Forced to strip in front of others
Burned with cigarette lighters
Foreign objects inserted into her vagina/anus
DAY 11: December 1, 1988: Severely beat up countless times
Face held against concrete ground and jumped on
Hands tied to ceiling and body used as a punching bag
Nose filled with so much blood that she can only breathe through her mouth
Dumbbells dropped onto her stomach
Vomited when tried to drink water (her stomach couldn’t accept it)
Tried to escape and punished by cigarette burning on arms
Flammable liquid poured on her feet and legs, then lit on fire
Bottle inserted into her anus, causing injury
DAY 20: December 10, 1989
Unable to walk properly due to severe leg burns
Beat with bamboo sticks
Fireworks inserted into anus and lit
Hands smashed by weights and fingernails cracked
Beaten with golf club
Cigarettes inserted into vagina
Beaten with iron rods repeatedly
Winter; forced outside to sleep in balcony
Skewers of grilled chicken inserted into her vagina and anus, causing bleeding
DAY 30: Hot wax dripped onto face
Eyelids burned by cigarette lighter
Stabbed with sewing needles in chest area
Left nipple cut and destroyed with pliers
Hot light bulb inserted into her vagina
Heavy bleeding from vagina due to scissors insertion
Unable to urinate properly
Injuries were so severe that it took over an hour for her to crawl downstairs and use the bathroom
Eardrums severely damaged
Extreme reduced brain size
DAY 40: Begged her torturers to “kill her and get it over with”
January 1, 1989: Junko greets the New Years Day alone
Body mutilated
Unable to move from the ground
DAY 44: January 4, 1989:
The four boys beat her mutilated body with an iron barbell, using a loss at the game of Mah-jongg as a pretext. She is profusely bleeding from her mouth and nose. They put a candle’s flame to her face and eyes.
Then, lighter fluid was poured onto her legs, arms, face and stomach, and then lit on fire. This final torture lasted for a time of two hours.
Junko Furuta died later that day, in pain and alone. Nothing could compare 44 days of suffering she had to go through.
When her mother heard the news and details of what had happened to her daughter, she fainted. She had to undergo a psychiatric outpatient treatment. Imagine her endless pain.
Her killers are now free men. Justice was never served, not even after 20 years.Inhuman.
