Her slithering strapless top sparkled in the club lights, revealing a vibrantly bruised purple back. The shiny python earrings shouted drama, over the scars that made her look like she wears snakeskin, in fashion.

She loved each part of it, no matter how much life it drew from her. She didn't mind it till the party was on. The color, the dress-up, the heavy drinking, the blackouts, nobody could get her out once she decided to invest.
Money? Dang, no.
She put it on herself. That was way better than any investments put on the table.
She loved the money that came out of it. She loved the glamor filled into it.
But tonight, as she let the funny substance thrash her brain, she could give it all up to live the consequences that came with the dirt.
She knew he was looking at her. Devouring all of her body with his crimson, lost eyes. Long, thick lashes covered them like faded curtains in a sunroom, allowing sunlight in their little concealing ways. She could feel his presence in the air; the smell of burnt cedar and smoke hung low in the room, taking her back to the day she experienced pure bliss, wrapped around his chest.
His filthy habit of leaving his scent on everything he touched, including her.

She was so drowned in the emotion that it seemed cruel to think of him and not have him pin her against the wall.
Scratch that.
It was cruel.
All this while, he followed her-waking her up to unfinished letters, shattered glasses, dead flowers. It creeped her out.
He creeped her out.
But as much as she hated being killed like this, it made her feel alive.
She wanted it all.
Even if that meant falling for a bastard who murders in moonlight and fucks under the stars.
He was all hers to have.
Her stalker.
All hers.
She knew he would sneak under her covers while she'd get wasted all night, that he would hide in her closet to watch her struggle falling asleep.
Sometimes, she would know he is still there. He knew that, too.
For a matter of fact and fun, she would allow the alcoholism in her to clash with the sadist.
"Come out, you prick," she shouted at the ceilings. She hardly addressed him with such colorful words but his incoherent responses had been getting on her nerves.
Normally, she would bundle herself in a corner and cry until he would be by her side, holding her. Nothing of that sort happened now. His existence vanished into thin air.
She could feel his eyes on her, nonetheless, he wouldn't come close.

This game of hide and seek had gotten completely out of hand, while she did away with most of its parts, the jarring pawns would somehow return to where they started from.
He ruined her, slowly and then, all at once. Directing her life to a hand-written monologue.
Beautiful words.
Royal script.
Two hearts, madly in love.
Alien to the feeling of infidelity, sorrows waged war against her modest senses. And presently, seeing that finely chiseled face completely still, his motionless eyes fixed on her, the scenery showed her exactly why his handsome presence will no more be felt lingering along her pained heart.
Because even though his eyes will be on her forever, heaven or hell, they'll still be six feet far.

.    .    .