The Chosen One
“I have a strange feeling,
That you’re gonna break my heart, boy;
Worse than it’s been before,
And if your words are anything to go by,
Then I was never more than someone only meant to cry,
I’ve kinda known that since our hands intertwined, boy;
It was written all over in your eyes.*”
*Poem by @Ofsatinandgoldandallthingsbold (Credits: Tejaswini Divya Naik)
She picked the diary up, the orange paper caught within its folds fluttered anxiously. The handwriting was loopy and small; the words were trapped in her mind forever. The black ink was as dark as her memory of the times left behind. He’d given her the diary as a present, and it was the only thing after him that brought any light in her life. It was her holy book, and she knew he loved the words and the poems she wrote for him. The poem was the first she’d written for him, it was when he’d first told her he loved her, right here in this place where she sat.
The wood made it musty and warm in the small attic she was in, a welcoming sign, surely. He’d been rambling about his next gig to someone on the phone and had to leave abruptly. His voice to her was like a deep shade of darkness you see in rain-forests. She shivered as she remembered his touch, warm against her perpetual cold skin, like holding a warm cup of coffee in the middle of icy winters. He was a heavy sleeper; she smiled as the thought of her chestnut hair trailing down his body seeped through her mind. His lips were warm and tasted like the forbidden fruit.

His beginning was her end, and if he ever thought of coming up here, she’d be waiting with the sweet little surprises adorned just for him. It was only a matter of time. She’d set up a little treasure for him for when he returned. She closed her eyes and breathed in; the memory of when she first met him lingered in the air. Lila, he’d called her, smiling that uneven smile, caught between a smirk and a gaze that made her tremble. His eyes were dark yet inviting and it was her weakness; that gaze.

She’d been lost and he had found her, and since then they had been inseparable. He was the tall, dark stranger and she was the chosen one. The chains rattled and she knew he was home, their little paradise. The candles were lit and she was expecting him. He’d also taught her so much, and she’d stopped being bad. She remembered the pain and the sting of being bad, but he’d treated her and why not? He loved her, didn’t he? Whenever she was being perfect, he would get her a new dress, the satin and the lace gliding on her skin. He loved her with all her scars and burns.

The lock shifted and he entered, standing tall in a crisp suit, that damn gaze on her, making her weak in the knees. The crimson splashes on his suit a sharp contrast against the white. She whimpered with longing and motioned for him to come into her arms. He smiled, never blinking, and slowly strode over to her. “You’re perfect.” He whispered, his voice wanting, needing her. She smiled, her bruised lips puckered.

He went over and undid the chains and the collar on her neck as she kissed his hands. “You’re mine, forever.” He said, his eyes shining with lust and malice, and she knew that that would be the last thing she remembered until she woke up in chains again.
He loved her after all, didn’t he?
