Lost Soul

My immediate instinct is to run. Sweat runs down my face as stone cold eyes stare into mine. Eyes of darkness? Most certainly. Fear Factor? Calculated. Time to get away? Estimated. He was only a couple inches taller than me, that boy I used to know. I left for my own sake, my own benefit, my own safety; he was insane. We went to the same high school three years prior and had a relationship for a while. Was it smart? Well no, but at the time I thought he was a miracle in the form of a man, straight from heaven as some might say. He was perfect and encapsulated everything I had ever dreamed of in a boyfriend: tall but not too tall, strong hands, perfect smile, athletic and passionate, but inside, oh inside, his soul was darker than I took my coffee. His soul was rotted and crumbling apart but hidden inside so no one could see the leftover ashes. That innocent figure drew me in like a beacon in a storm and I went for it wholeheartedly and without regret until it was too late. He took what was left of me and buried it in the ashes of his soul until I dissolved into nothing. I was nothing but a void in society. As he stood before me now, as empty as before, I stared into those stone cold eyes as if they held answers to why he took me. Why me. I had a future, well I wanted a future. He spoke words to me and they wrapped me deep within him, as if he controlled my every move. I was a puppet to his motives. I was at mercy to his intentions. For the first time in three years I felt him grab me and yank me away. Taking me captive to drain my soul once again.


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