bed to the other side of the room. I fell to my knees, gathering all the scattered condoms and putting them in a small pile. I thought about just taking a couple condoms and heading back to the room down the hall, a room with a pretty little blonde waiting for my arrival, but something told me to clean up my mess. I am sure it was my mind attempting to keep the bedroom a shrine, a place that was perfect from the outside.
My hand swept under the bed along the short carpet and hit a hard object. I maneuvered the object out from under the bed and held it in my hand. I sighed at the sight I held before me. It was Kat arina’s Bible, the one her grandfather had before he died. I took it with me when I went with my brothers-in-law on a retreat weeks ago, but I assumed she took it back when she left. I sat with my back to the bed and the bible in my lap as I flipped through it. I wasn’t looking for anything; I had already read the majority of the side notes her grandfather left. The Book fanned out in front of me and stopped at the last page. Stuffed into the binding was a yellow piece of binder paper. I pulled it out and slowly opened it, my mind telling me to stop, knowing only pain could come from this, knowing I was in the middle of sex with ‘strange’.
The paper had handwritten scribbles all over it ; it was Katarina’s handwriting.
What is love?
Charity is the strongest kind of love.
Faith is the action of love.
Trust and patience, more actions of love…
The note continued as she noted all the Bible verses, along with each topic. Some arrows were drawn if the words intermixed. My eyes blurred, and I flipped the page over and focused on her last line.
Love is freedom…God is love.
It was written clearly away from all the scribbles, like she was reminding herself, reminding herself what love was. My heart ached, the phantom pains of being stabbed directly in the chest over and over breaking me down. The paper brought me back to the dark place I was in the day she left, her words on the paper giving me a beat down. Tears formed in the corners of my eyes, and I didn’t have the power like I had in the past to shove them down. So I cried and I cried, silent tears pouring from my eyes, and I was helpless. When I finished, I folded the paper neatly in the same way it had been folded in the past, and stuffed it back into the binding of the book. I closed the book and set it gently on my nightstand. I rubbed my eyes and stood up. I tossed the condoms on the floor and dragged my ass to the bedroom down the hall.
I d idn’t know her name, but she was still tied up on the bed. Of course she would still be there; where would she escape to? I moved to the bed, releasing her arms first, and then her legs. She removed her blindfold and repeatedly blinked her eyes before speaking. “Are we done?”
I eyed this tiny , pretty, sweet thing and hated myself. I looked away, trying for the courage to tell her I was done, not just with her, but with everyone. “You should leave.” I heard her get up and fish around the room, searching for her clothing, and then she vanished. I stayed sitting on the edge of the bed for what seemed like hours, a tear or two falling from my eyes.
Where do I go from here?
I decided my best chance to see her again was to visit her brother, Brian. I had tracked all the information about Katarina over the last week and found a few pictures on her, none of them with her family. It was as if Katarina didn’t exist before a week ago. I noticed a few photos with Thomas Holtin—one with Thomas holding her hand, another of the two dancing, and the rest were posed shots. My mind went crazy thinking about what else he was holding. I could see the adoration for her in his eyes, but Katarina’s face was proper and polished; like a statue, her smile was fixed, painted on. The caption below the picture read, Newly Found Billionaire Katarina Covington with Childhood Sweetheart Thomas Holtin, Internet
My hand swept under the bed along the short carpet and hit a hard object. I maneuvered the object out from under the bed and held it in my hand. I sighed at the sight I held before me. It was Kat arina’s Bible, the one her grandfather had before he died. I took it with me when I went with my brothers-in-law on a retreat weeks ago, but I assumed she took it back when she left. I sat with my back to the bed and the bible in my lap as I flipped through it. I wasn’t looking for anything; I had already read the majority of the side notes her grandfather left. The Book fanned out in front of me and stopped at the last page. Stuffed into the binding was a yellow piece of binder paper. I pulled it out and slowly opened it, my mind telling me to stop, knowing only pain could come from this, knowing I was in the middle of sex with ‘strange’.
The paper had handwritten scribbles all over it ; it was Katarina’s handwriting.
What is love?
Charity is the strongest kind of love.
Faith is the action of love.
Trust and patience, more actions of love…
The note continued as she noted all the Bible verses, along with each topic. Some arrows were drawn if the words intermixed. My eyes blurred, and I flipped the page over and focused on her last line.
Love is freedom…God is love.
It was written clearly away from all the scribbles, like she was reminding herself, reminding herself what love was. My heart ached, the phantom pains of being stabbed directly in the chest over and over breaking me down. The paper brought me back to the dark place I was in the day she left, her words on the paper giving me a beat down. Tears formed in the corners of my eyes, and I didn’t have the power like I had in the past to shove them down. So I cried and I cried, silent tears pouring from my eyes, and I was helpless. When I finished, I folded the paper neatly in the same way it had been folded in the past, and stuffed it back into the binding of the book. I closed the book and set it gently on my nightstand. I rubbed my eyes and stood up. I tossed the condoms on the floor and dragged my ass to the bedroom down the hall.
I d idn’t know her name, but she was still tied up on the bed. Of course she would still be there; where would she escape to? I moved to the bed, releasing her arms first, and then her legs. She removed her blindfold and repeatedly blinked her eyes before speaking. “Are we done?”
I eyed this tiny , pretty, sweet thing and hated myself. I looked away, trying for the courage to tell her I was done, not just with her, but with everyone. “You should leave.” I heard her get up and fish around the room, searching for her clothing, and then she vanished. I stayed sitting on the edge of the bed for what seemed like hours, a tear or two falling from my eyes.
Where do I go from here?
I decided my best chance to see her again was to visit her brother, Brian. I had tracked all the information about Katarina over the last week and found a few pictures on her, none of them with her family. It was as if Katarina didn’t exist before a week ago. I noticed a few photos with Thomas Holtin—one with Thomas holding her hand, another of the two dancing, and the rest were posed shots. My mind went crazy thinking about what else he was holding. I could see the adoration for her in his eyes, but Katarina’s face was proper and polished; like a statue, her smile was fixed, painted on. The caption below the picture read, Newly Found Billionaire Katarina Covington with Childhood Sweetheart Thomas Holtin, Internet
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