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She must be so peaceful when she sleeps.

The way she must look - so complacent and calm, no frown or grimace. Her eyes would be shut, her breathing so even and soft...not the harsh and ragged breath of anger that I am so used to hearing, even now. What a nice change it would be...curls fluttering down over her face, wavering back and forth in the wake of her breath...

Her chest would rise and fall, smoothly and sweetly, her clothes wrinkling a little with every inhalation. She would barely move, as well - a small twitch or shift here and there, maybe scratching her arm once or twice. It would be...almost cute, perhaps, to watch her. Perhaps her nose might wrinkle up upon the feelings of discomfort, as favorite part would be to see the smile she holds in her sleep, to hear the things she mumbles softly.

But in this moment, she is awake. I see the beautiful brown eyes that sparkle with joy when I am not around. For, when I am, they glare at me. I dislike that. When she glares at me, I must become angry with her. I often wish I could hit her until she shut up...but her waking state is enjoyable to me...

If only so that I am able to watch as she slices her skin open, again, and again, and again...

The red color that stains her is so beautiful...the tears she sheds are so warm and gentle...the whimpers she holds back, just barely, are music to my ears.

And I do not mind at all, watching her harm herself.

I am the one who will bring her pain.

I will always be the one who will bring her pain.

She is mine...

And she is mine alone.
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Submitted on
November 10, 2012
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