Average Joe

He inched towards me. Legs bent stood on his feet, balancing his body, he put his bloody hand up and pressed it against my glass cage, 'I'm sorry', I saw his lips form the words but my brain couldn't comprehend them. I ran my delicate fingers shakily through my hair, feeling my head pulsate and gush with blood. I looked up at his guilty face. I whimpered in pain as I opened my mouth to speak.

'How... could, you?', his eyes met mine and quickly escaped my useless gaze. He looks like a predator, eyes black in the light, hair ruffled - blood stained. His hand pushed itself further onto the cage, the same strong hand that used to hold me in the comfort of our home, the same hand that caressed my face reassuringly and now, it's the hand that grasped my neck and shoved me into the wall.

I look down that the hand that used to hold his, indents of my fingernails being pushed into my palms, weak, useless and sore. It all started the day we "happened" to bump into each other, meeting his then blue eyes, his lips curving into a smirk. He's just your average Joe, no one you would expect. Now he crouches here, a glass cage between us. Black, senseless and animalistic eyes.

This doesn't feel like the way it should have gone. If I'd of just gone along with the fantasy. Ignored how my friends kept disappearing suspiciously. But now I sit in this cage, created by him, for me, surrounded by the reflection of a walking, talking deadgirl.

I placed my hand on the cage and align it with his, 'please' my voice shaking 'just let me out'. 'you know I can't do that' his lips curved into a sinister smirk. I've never seen the devil before.

But,
I guess I have now.