Statistic

It was like deja vu for Oscar. This it was him who was showing up to Cleo’s to make sure she was okay, like Eliza had done for him a few days ago.

He used his key which he was thankful that he had because, he was not sure that Cleo would have opened the door for him. And from the looks of it she would not have.

Cleo was lying on her side facing a wall, and he felt a dark feeling in the pit of his stomach—especially after losing Chloe. 

But then she shifted, and he moved closer to the bed.

“Cleo? It’s me, I used my key…”

Cleo turned around, her body in a state of semi-undress in a thin slip.

“What are you doing here? I thought you would be done with me…” she heaved.

He sat on the edge of the bed.

“I know you were back and no one saw you and I know that you were upset.”

“You mean my depression, and you wanted to make sure I was not a statistic.”

Oscar swallowed.

“I’ve been in love with you Cleo, I don’t wish you any harm. I certainly did not come here expecting to find you dead.”

Cleo touched his thigh.

“I treated you so badly, I am ashamed…”

She started to heave more and then her face morphed back into the face of tears he could see was there before.

He crawled onto the bed, and held her close.

“Cleo, love makes fools of us all.”

She continued to heave and then looked up at him. He wiped a tear from her mouth, and she gasped and kissed him. He had not meant to make her think that he wanted to kiss her—but she kissed him. Her hand  on his thigh again, kneading and moving up his thigh. 

“Cleo…I did not come here to…”

“But I want you to…”

Her hand kneading his crotch made it hard for him

to deny her.

More Wicked Wednesday here: