Pretty Poison

Seventeen

His body is masculine, the muscles in his arms outlined in the tight black material of his shirt. He holds the gun to my head steadily, my arms still up as I stare at his chest. I lift my gaze to connect with his, his jaw sharp and nose pointed. His cheeks are sculpted to perfection, as if Venus herself sculpted him from stone. His chest is chiseled, and can be seen through the thin material of his clothes.

Finally, letting go of the air in my mouth, I meet his indigo eyes once again. His stare is hard as his eyes travel up and down my body, something short of recognition flashing behind his retinas. He stares at my thin face long and hard, his eyes never moving.

"Beatrice?" He finally mutters, his cold eyes filling with warmth as he lowers his gun feverishly and places it on a nearby table.

I stayed silent, not able to take my eyes off his face, I never knew it could be possible to grow to be more attractive, more handsome. But I was wrong, so wrong.

"Beatrice," he says almost in a whisper, stepping even closer, and I involuntarily move back from him, fearful of his touch. "Is it really you?" He questions, staring at me long and hard, his eyes searching my face for an answer, though he already knows he's right.

I haven't been called by that name in four years, and hearing it finally muttered from his lips felt so good, as if his words touched my body. It affected me in a way I have never felt before.

I keep my vision trained on his angelic face, and nod slowly at his question, and at that he moves even closer to me, reaching as if to hug me.

"No!" I shout, "Don't touch me," I say, though it comes out as a whimper as I stare at him with a convection of sorrow.

"Beatrice, it's alright," he moves smoothly, swiftly.
He touches his finger tips to mine, my hand shielding me. His touch sends my nerves into overdrive as I let out a loud heave of air from my mouth. "See, I'm not going to hurt you, I promise," he says sweetly, a small smile appearing on his crimson lips, lighting up his eyes in the most exquisite fashion.

I search his irises again, unable to believe the sight in front of me. The irises I had once described to be raging ocean waves in a storm now appear as hurricane waves, speckles of white diffused like seafoam forming when water hits shore.

I search his face for answers, his touch changing my body in a way it never has before.

Why can I touch you?

"Where have you been all this time, Beatrice?" He says calmly under his breath so only I can hear. His statue towers over me, his fingers still touching mine.

I don't answer him, still forever lost in the wake of his gorgeous face. I want so badly to reach a hand up to caress his cheek, a motion I've dreamt of doing ever since the first time I laid eyes on him.

"Back then, before you left, you said I wouldn't understand why you had to go, but I think I will understand now...please, Beatrice, tell me why you had to go?"