Come Back To Me Read Online Free PDF

and fuck them from dusk until dawn and never tire. I
began to feel my nipples harden under the fabric of the heavy
sweatshirt I was donning. My thighs became sticky with moisture
from my weeping sex. I knew I needed to get out of there before I
spontaneously combusted right there on the sidewalk.
    With my pie in hand I walked the five
blocks back to my building. I could smell the ingredients coming
from under the lid the entire way, and it took sheer will power not
to dive in on the walk home.
    The image of the sexy man kept creeping
back to me, god he was something. What I wouldn’t give to wrap my
thighs around him and let him use me in ways I could only imagine.
I had to stop this; I wasn’t some sex starved psycho!
    Once I returned back to my apartment I
released the pizza from its cardboard holding. I opted out of a
plate and fork and dug right in.
    Tonight I would just relax, I didn’t
start my new job until Monday so I still had Saturday to unpack my
bags and get settled in. I grabbed the TV remote and flipped on the
giant flat screen device. I browsed through some channels, before
settling on a celebrity news program. Somehow watching celebs lives
fall apart on national television made me feel better about myself.
How sadistic was that? No matter how fucked up my life was shows
like that made me feel like I lived a “Leave it to Beaver”
lifestyle.
    I shoved another piece of delicious pie
into my mouth and I almost choked while looking at the screen.
There on the television, in my living room, was my ex, Michael
Parker.
    “What is that fucker doing on TV?” I
said out loud.
    I turned up the volume so I could hear
what the low life had to say. A churning in the pit of my stomach
started at the sound of his voice.
    “I just want Emily to know that I love
her, and I know in my heart we are meant to be
together.”
    The churning became worse, and I ran to
the kitchen to find the garbage can. I emptied my stomach contents,
wiped my mouth and went back to the television. It was like a train
wreck, I couldn’t take my eyes off.
    This guy never quit! Holy shit, I broke
it off with him eight months ago and he was still pining for
me.
    He continued “I’m not sure where she
is, but Emily if you see this please…I love you.”
    Fury rose through my veins at his
words.
    “Love huh? Was that what it was called
when you beat the shit out of me? Was it love when you cracked my
head open on the end table in your apartment, and then broke my
ribs?” I screamed at the TV.
    I was in disbelief that they were
rehashing this old news, yes our breakup had been the center of
media attention for a month or so, but I assumed it was old hat by
now.
    My parents tried to keep the press out
of the situation to help save Michael’s budding acting career, but
in doing so they pushed me away from them. I was their daughter;
they were supposed to protect me. Instead I got the blame for
Michael’s drinking problem. It was my fault when he got shit faced
and took it out on me.
    I relived that night so many times I
was sick of crying about it, I never thought I deserved the way he
treated me, but my parents had a different opinion. They sided with
him, even though he was out of control.
    Every time I closed my eyes for the
last six months, all I could see was him kicking me to the floor
and smashing my head on the end table on the way down. The image of
seeing myself in the mirror four days later horrified me. I didn’t
recognize myself, black eyes, bruised cheek, and stitches on the
side of my head.
    I vowed to myself that day I would
never let someone lay a hand on me unless I asked them
to.
    Michael had been the other reason I
decided to leave L.A., he kept trying to get in touch with me,
blowing up my phone, and email. He wouldn’t stop, and his obsessive
behavior scared the shit out of me. I told my naïve self that he
was a good person and just needed help.
    Maybe I was the one needing help, after
all, was I condoning his behavior