Jillian LaCroix
Stories (2/0)
Merlot
The red tears from my wine draped up and down the sides of my glass as I sat at my kitchen table once again, listening to them. I spun the glass around in between my fingers before taking another sip. For the last 2 months, it has been like this. I mean, who fucks every night? The only thing I do every night, is brush my teeth and that’s out of pure habit. I sat back and listened to them, but more importantly- to her. The walls, to my demise were made of pure drywall and the rhythmic tapping of the bedframe and her moans were the new melody of my household. Do you think it’s possible to fall in love with the sound of someone? I’ve never even seen what she looks like but she sounds like my soulmate.
By Jillian LaCroix3 years ago in Filthy
A Tattoo Tale
"Jillian, it's me. I have cancer," The raspy tired voice floated through the receiving end of my phone. A light ringing tone started after the words fell as I was still rubbing my eyes awake the morning of Valentine's Day 2017. I looked over and watched as my most recent love lay tangled in my sheets, trying to reposition into sleep after the electric trill cut the early morning glory earlier than expected. Unexpected is one word I could use to describe the call I got that day. Not only with the information that it contained but also because of who was on the other side. My mother, who I had now not talked to in 45 days after she had beaten me with words of ineptitude and worthlessness as her daughter after coming out to her for the now third time of my adult life. No, she's not just a friend; no, I don't want to date guys; yes, I want to fuck women. But for some reason, it's like some people only hear what they want to believe, only see what their mind allows them to. I could still hear her words echoing in the background, my new name tags hanging from safety pins in my skin. Words can hurt- like knives. Bleeding tears, I sped from her driveway in Phoenix with a vow that we were done, she had made it clear, she was not my mother any longer and that I was a blemish to her name. She wanted nothing to do with me and my "trash girlfriend". Fine. By. Me.
By Jillian LaCroix4 years ago in Families