Firefly (Short Stories)

Wishful Thinking

Before

She always wanted to relish the wishful taste of happiness of blissful love, powerful enough to captivate her, to encase her heart, to tyrant her smile and her warmth.

She loved the way he flooded her mind with his teasing smile and a hopeful future. She loved feeling his eyes on her watchful steps, his laugh echoing around her trembling heart. He was her perfect dream.

He treated her like a queen, with every ounce of possession sweeping through his actions. She loved the feeling of his warm arms clasped around her fragile figure.

He possessed her every thought. Her weakling butterflies swamped up low deep within her pit making every day her favorite fairytale, all of him, all with him.

He chose his words with careful preservation making her the easel with every stroke of his love painted in ease, keeping her right where he wanted. He promised her an eternity and she fell deep in Oblivion choosing him over everything and everyone.

He won her over with two perfect words surrendering her final lock to all the keys he held captive in his grasp. For now, Forever.

She was on cloud nine witnessing her perfect dream come to reality. She pulled on her white dress that fit her perfectly with a glow that made her smile reach her eyes. She was finally going to be his, he was finally going to be hers.

Her perfect dream.
Her perfect ending.

After

Maybe it was always meant to be a dream and not a reality.

She placed her weak palm across her torn bra and tied the ends. The bruises brushed past her fingertips making her squeak a silent plea. Her tears skimmed down her cheeks. Her eyes held remorse pain and guilt.

She was wounded mentally, not physically with every passing time she spent with him. There were days he kept her on a pedestal and days when he dragged her down to put her in place.

He said he loved her.
He said he was drunk.
He said he saw someone look at her differently.
He said her clothes looked too revealing.
He said she didn't perch his happiness.

He said...

He said a lot of excuses for every strained anger he lashed at her. He was never outwardly physical, maybe once, maybe twice or more times than she choose to accept.

His anger. His mental torcher. His wounded words made her a ragged doll with no place to hide.

She loved him too much to see past his untamed anger. She thought with time things would change, things would be better. He would eventually be the guy she fell in love with and not the man who hounds her out of parties, out of public places to teach her a lesson.

He never said sorry, he never asked for forgiveness, he only made her silence after a fight or a strangle to be a barrier and wait for the perfect time to ease up a normal conversation. To make everything seem normal.

She wasn't week, she wasn't a coward, she was a human being with responsibilities and a society waiting to screech through her walls. They would point out her wrongs before accepting her with all her perfect flaws.

She was hurting, she was slumping down to her final thread of hope with a new life blooming within her. She thought things would be better things would be calm.

She had to make a decision, to stay and see the change pace through time or back away before the thunder would strike down every wishful thinking.

THE END.