ArtsAutosBooksBusinessEducationEntertainmentFamilyFashionFoodGamesGenderHealthHolidaysHomeHubPagesPersonal FinancePetsPoliticsReligionSportsTechnologyTravel
  • »
  • Books, Literature, and Writing»
  • Commercial & Creative Writing»
  • Creative Writing

Persistence : Mora's Tale

Updated on December 6, 2012

Mora's Tale :Jack (an original short story by Jessica Larsen-Cunningham)

She gazed at him...Jack. They had been together over a year, yet she wasn't sure how she felt about him. She thought their entire relationship was some sort of mishap. At least she was intelligent enough to know it wasn't love. It was borderline obsession, infatuation maybe, but not love. Sometimes she felt as if she were drowning and thirsty at the same time. Still, she wanted him to love her. He wanted control. He was immensely insecure. She gave into him believing her sacrifices would cure him, but he always wanted more from her.

She gave up her identity, everything she knew she was before she decided it was her calling to "fix" him. It wasn't all for him. She wanted his love in return. She cried out for it like a spoiled two year old. She begged for it like she was begging for her own life, but never ever asked herself why.

She sometimes felt like a prisoner that had been in lock down for twenty years for a crime they never committed, afraid of being back on the outside, but dying to escape. She often fantasized about other lives she could be living, and she felt free for that moment. Her mind was all she had left that was still her own. He had never tried to know her mind, but had taken everything else, and she had let him.

At times she hated him, and she hated herself for caring. She would spend hours thinking of all the things she disliked about him. How sometimes he said her name as if it were a disease. "Where are you Mora?" could have easily been "Where are you cancer?". He was often angry with her. He took his frustrations for everyone else out on her. He had no issue with yelling at her and degrading her, but was utterly kind to everyone else that didn't really matter. All she had to do was ask a question to set him off. Any question, and he felt that he was being attacked. He would scream at her about him "being a man" and "not having to answer to anyone".

She would run away and cry. She wanted to scream back "Why are you the only one allowed to ask questions?" but she just held her anger inside and let it become part of her built up resentment for him. Still she wanted his love.

He thought he loved her. He would often say to her "Go. Go out there and find some one that will love you as much as I do." She thought about it. But then she thought "How can anyone love a non-existent shell of a person?" That's what he had made her. That is what she had allowed herself to become.

He claimed she had freedom. She could do whatever she wanted. That wasn't the truth. She had to ask permission if she wanted to go anywhere and then justify why she wanted or needed to go. He wanted her all to himself, locked away from the rest of the world. It was disturbing to her last remaining friends that she had to explain herself constantly, but he never had to answer to anyone.

She didn't believe his insecurity was all his fault and she believed in people changing. Maybe that is what kept her going. She knew that all those around him, with the exception of her, easily influenced him. And she knew he had his pleasant moments, but they were getting few and far between.

He didn't like to take responsibility for his bad behavior, which was an easy thing for him because he always had some current addiction to blame, if he couldn't find a way to blame her. She tried desperately to remember the good things about him, but the longer they were together the less good memories there were. The bad drowned them out.

He claimed to be trying to make her happy, but he had to know that wasn't true. He claimed that nobody could make her happy, but that wasn't true either, she had had several happy relationships before. He claimed she was just controlling and selfish, she thought it was amusing that he was projecting his traits onto her.

It wasn't love. She wanted it to be because she was afraid to be alone and felt like she was damaged. He wanted it to be because it was convenient and he could own her. But it wasn't love for those exact reasons.

If she wanted to be with him because she couldn't imagine her life without him, it might be love, but she spent all day dreaming of having a different life, one without him. She had sacrificed herself for him but not out of love, out of the fear of being alone and out of the hope for change.

If he wanted to take care of her emotionally and physically, then it might be love, but he was too selfish to even see his faults and did not make an effort to really know her at all. He didn't even see her enough to know he was emptying her spirit, and he wouldn't listen long enough for her to tell him. Yes, he wanted to see her there when he came home from work, but not because he loved her, because he didn't want her to be anywhere else, she was his possession.

Still they both stayed. She escaped into her mind and he escaped to wherever he didn't have to feel guilty or be confronted about his behavior. And when they came together it was catastrophic. They were destroying each other, and claiming it as love.


    0 of 8192 characters used
    Post Comment

    No comments yet.