Enamor

VI

Alexandre

There are few things that transfix me. That makes me want to breathe.

and yet. I am transfixed so.

I watch her leave her rugged storage she calls home and exits to the main street. She takes a look at my car and furrows her brow.

Her visage displays a question.

Why are you here?

and yet she can not see me.

It's a good question really. I have no reason to be here.

To be in the slums.

But it seems I have found a diamond in the rough.

My eyes practically glimmer at her beauty.

Everyone else blurs.

and she is just there, bright.

She is so beautiful.

I just want to corrupt her. So badly.

I want some of her light in my life, even though I know my darkness will swallow her.

An angel. A sinful man like me can not have an angel.

After I found out about the debt, I checked her place to find the optimal time to visit her about her soon-to-be financial crisis.

and after that first time, I could not stop.

I just wanted to see her.

She became an obsession.

Longing.

I can not quite understand it.

Maybe it's the hopelessness of her life, of her situation but her perseverance to survive.

Her will, that makes me admire her.

It was the third day, I found out she was dancing in a show for swan lake. It was one of my mother's favorites back when I was young. She made me see it because my father refused to go. My father was not a man of Renaissance, he hated art and anything that was not practical.

But a ballerina. It made sense.

Her gracefulness, her beauty.

Those long dark legs.

My mother's liking of dance led her to provide funding for the academy. In my curiosity to see my debtor's talent, I visited the school's headmaster to ask financial questions and a tour of the school and classes.

He took me and showed me some practice until he got to 115. I patiently and quietly peered inside with him. Made sure nobody was paying attention.

I saw her dance. It was a sight to behold.

People say there are moments in time when art speaks to you. Her body moved with vigor to the dance, it told a story.

And in that moment. I could feel her pain, feel her sorrow for her life, but I could feel her passion. That dance was the one thing she had. The only thing she had to love.

I pitied her. And she made me feel shame. Perhaps I pitied myself too much, that I forgot that others suffer much more. I sullied my own innocence through wrongdoings in the name of my family. But she did nothing, she was wronged by the world.

I could not sleep that night. All I could think about was her. I almost wanted to get rid of that debt. But a new problem arose.

I wanted her. I desired her.

My bed was cold. I did not mind a cold bed. But I wanted her in it.

I watched her go home late at night, making sure she got home safely.

She would occasionally walk with a man. A man that I knew I would get rid of immediately. However, she did not seem that interested in him anyways.

It was the seventh day that I decided to confront her about her situation.

There was no way she would be able to pay off that money, and for once in my entire life of collecting debts, I was relieved.

~

I am sitting at my mahogany desk overlooking the city. The bright lights of the downtown metropolitan glow in the night. The fortieth floor provides an unrivaled view.

I see my car pull up and my security detail open the back door. Out she walks. I can not see her well because of how far up I am, but I see she is swarmed in a black trench coat.

For a second a ghost of a smile appears on my face, then it is gone.