Beautiful
She looked so beautiful.
Her thick, rolling waves of red velvet hair, her flowing dress so black it made the darkness around her envious, her cracking nail polish, and her smudged makeup from a day's work. It all made her entrancing to any passersby. She loved when people glanced her way, even though she blushed fiercely. When she saw me looking at her glorifying image, she erupted into a rosy pallet of color, waving as her raw emotions shined through.
She had me captivated from the first moment I saw her.
Her skinned knees, her torn-up high socks, her piercingly elegant laugh, her freckle-coated arms, and her dimple-dotted cheeks. The way she winked to her friends and squinted when she got lost in concentration, the way she tip-toed as she walked and giggled when her pet licked her rosy cheeks, and the way she smiled as the harsh rays of light beat down upon her small figure. All of these wonderful qualities added to what made her so radiant with life.
From the moment I saw her, I knew I had to have her.
Once I found where she went to school and all the paths she took there, once I found out who her close friends were and saw their families, once I found her home and saw her family, and once I had finalized how I would get to her, I took her. She tried to fight me, but I didn’t understand why. I loved her. I had to show her that I was the one for her. I had to take her to a place that only I knew, where we could be alone, and no one would find us. She struggled, bit, and kicked, but she could not win against me. I had love on my side.
Once I had her, she changed drastically from how I had originally seen her, but I knew that my love would help bring back all her beautiful charms. I would give back her smile, her laugh, and her rosy cheeks. I would be her friend, her family, and her life. I am the only one she needs, and she would realize that. I could improve her in every way. Maybe, then, she would love me as I love her. Sadly, she refused to even look and talk to me, even though I told her constantly that I loved her. I didn’t understand why she acted the way she did back then, but now, I know why.
Now I’ve realized that talking was not what got her here with me. Talking has not shown her how I cherish her with all my heart and how I would die for her in a matter of seconds.
Maybe if I touch her, she will love me.
She may object at first, but that lets out a trait about her that I love most of all: her beautiful, sobbing screams.