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It began as a tiny seed, blood dripping down a cross, and grew into a big, half dead tree in the forest that hid children in innocent games of Hide and Seek.

It flowed in between strips of land, bloody like a red river in a jungle, quenching the thirst of a hungry wolf.

It growled like the big dogs, and howled like wolves.

It fooled so many, like a wolf in sheep’s clothing.

It roared like an angry lion, in pursuit of its prey.

My pain has killed men and dragged their dead bodies off somewhere to rot, all for disrespectin’ a woman I loved.

It rolled dice in casinos, cheated the joint, and made the stock market bells toll.

My pain has reached into the womb of Lilith, and brought forth an Eve.

My pain looked pretty, because it morphed into sticky, stankin’, stark naked hatred, dressed up in bloody bits of love, and a string of pearls to cover the truth.

White dresses covered in the afterbirth of an unwanted child, and worn on Easter Sunday for church, too.

Hot sweat dripping down filthy white faces in the church, singing about heaven while we roll around in the grime of hell on Earth.

Our bodies covered in bruises. Our stomachs empty.

I went through all of that, so I could stand the rain. The storms of life.

The Good Book saved me. It was the map to a new salvation. My pain was too costly. I never allowed myself to truly feel it because if I did, I’d go insane. So, I read my scripture. I studied business.

I watched the big Texas tycoons make moves.

I worked my way to the top, proving myself.

I got in the right circles, showed that I can get what I need, by any means necessary because I wasn’t scared of a gotdamn thing.

I asked for forgiveness at night, but reminded God that he should have mercy on me since he allowed me to go through so much as a child.

Give me grace, oh, Lord. Give me grace. And I heard God tell me that I was special.

That I was chosen. God told me the things my father should’ve, but never did.

But that was okay. I found the Alpha and Omega.

I was figuring things out. I was making a name for myself. Then, one day, I met a woman…

And she was love.

She murdered my natural instinct to strike and devour. She was the ‘L’, the ‘O’, the ‘V’, and the ‘E’. And then, she left me…

And I became the motherfucker that I am today.

She ran away and took my peace. She took the babies that she promised me she’d give birth to.

She took the future I promised her. She took my hopes and dreams, balled them up, and set them on fire.

She took the only thing I ever had in my life that was pure and good, and hid it from me: herself.

She took my motivation to at least try and be somethin’ better than I was the day before.

She said I did a poor job, that I failed.

That I was a bad seed, and my branches were rotten and truncated because I refused to grow.

She said she’d done all she could for me, and she was done trying to love me away from my own pain.

Pain that I refused to part from. She spoke in tongues, potions and root work.

She said she couldn’t break no curse on me, because I didn’t believe in magic.

I don’t believe in magic, but I believed in HER.

I didn’t believe her threat, but she meant every word.

She closed the curtains on me, in the cruelest of ways.

I was left in darkness. Like the first day in Genesis.

She was pure light, and then she blinked, and was gone.

No man. No woman. No trees. No sun. No moon.

Just me, alone, holding onto the cold grip of death.

That was the first and only time in my life when I contemplated suicide.

Once I realized she wasn’t coming back, and I couldn’t find her to make it all right, I took my favorite gun, and raised it to my temple.

I pulled the trigger, but the damn thing jammed…

I will go to my grave never telling a soul any of this.

That’s weakness. That’s sickness. That’s disaster and frailty. God saved my life.

When I became a wealthy man, I thanked God for the blessings, and we made a deal.

A pact. It’s in the blood. The blood that’s on the white dress and the crucifix.

The blood that dripped from my lip when my papa punched me in the face for stealing candy from the little store down the road.

The blood that stained my fingers and caked under my nails when I stabbed, strangled and ultimately killed the harsh voices around me…

Tina made that fade away. It went away. All that resentment, hatred and pain.

The day she left, it all came back though, and I went a little crazy.

“I tried to make every woman after her be her. They didn’t have to look like her.

Tina was a movement—her beauty went beyond her face.

It was in the way she walked, spoke, and moved.

It was the way her mind and heart worked.

That’s all I needed. Look how you want, but BE my Tina.

They could never fill her shoes though. They failed.

I made them suffer for their shortcomings.

I didn’t beat them with my hands, like my daddy did my mother.

No, no. God looks down on that. I used my words. My attitude. My resources.

“No bruises on the skin… I left bruises on the heart and mind. I had to, because I explained what I needed, and they pretended to fit the bill. They lied to me. I had a reputation to upkeep. I was rich, and I’d earned every damn dollar.

Self-made. No handouts. Good looking. Had property, prestige, and power.

I knew how to make a woman feel good from her body to her soul.

Most of my ex-wives lied to get next to my money.

To get fucked right. These women aimed to get a baby from me, so they would always get alimony and be attached to me, some way, some how.

They lied so they could be the first lady of the Wilde family.

“But they soon found out that the stakes were high, and I didn’t want an imposter.

You had to pull your fucking weight. I’ll give you all the furs, diamonds, cars, caviar, country club parties, and shopping sprees that your little heart desires, but gotdamn it, you better make my pain go away.

You better be medicine to my soul. No matter what woman I chose to fuck, date or marry, it always ended up the same…

I wasn’t satisfied. Nobody could kiss me like Tina.

Talk to me like Tina. Fuck me like Tina. Heal me like Tina.”

He slipped his other shoe on, then stood and reached for his jacket that lay on a chair.

Here I am going to a damn wedding… it’s dredging up memories.

That’s why my nap turned so bad. I ain’t been able to go one day in my life since knowin’ her without thinking about her.

What a brutal thing to do. Make someone want you, and you up and disappear.

She had to have known I would spend forever trying to chase that same high.

All my old wounds, emotional and mental bruises and scars faded away.

But she said I was still dark inside. The wounds are still fresh.

“She said that I was just hiding the truth from myself. Because the truth hurts. But I can tell you one thing, Cyrus…” He pointed at his reflection in the mirror.

“I didn’t hurt when she was with me. I was drunk off love when that woman was around.

So many men lusted after Tina, but she chose ME .

” His eyes narrowed as he glared at himself.

Hating his memories. “When she left me, after everything we’d been through and worked towards, I felt the pain of a million blades piercing my heart.

I couldn’t understand why! I had never pretended to be someone I wasn’t with her.

I told her the truth! She knew I was a black-souled man when she met me.

She told me as much, without needing my confessions.

She turned this frog into a prince. Without her, I tore up the China shop.

Like my old nickname back in my youth: Wilde Bull.

She used to call me that, too. When she left me, she became my red rag.

Waving it in my face, taunting me with memories of all that she was, and we used to be.

Only problem was, my hate for her was still soaked in love.

I could barely stand it. It wasn’t the rejection; it was her lack of presence in my life.

Tina had found a way to keep my demons at bay.

She kept me in check. She kept me accountable.

I never went as far as I wished, because of HER.

I TRIED! I TRIED! I TRIED! TINA! WHERE ARE YOU, GOTDAMN IT? ! WHEN I FIND YOU, YOU WILL MARRY ME!”

He picked up an empty bottle of wine from his vanity and tossed it across the room. Shattered glass exploded against the wall like clear, sharp fireworks. He turned away, emotionally exhausted.

Tina said the Wilde Bull in me was up to no good.

She’d punish me by closing her legs, closing her eyes when I came into a room, then closing her lips and mind to me, too.

She’d lock me out of her world completely.

It would ruin me, but I was too stubborn to let her see how much it affected me.

Too prideful. “TINA, WHERE ARE YOU?!!!!!”

He pounded his fists against the wall, his heart pounding like fifteen galloping horses. He held his chest, the pain great. His nervous breakdown had resumed and was wrecking him, but he couldn’t stop.

“When she’d shut me out, admonish me, it would make me feel like a little boy again… the same boy covered in blood, on the ground, holding my Bible with trembling hands. Fresh welts on my back, and the sting of tears running down my face. Daddy standin’ over me…