Masquerade

1.0

'Surrealism is destructive, but it destroys only what it considers to be shackles limiting our vision.'
If I had the good fortune to have heard this before, then it could have saved me from a circumstance worse than purgatory.
I always hear people questioning whether their lives will diminish, with good fortune or bad, and if they will rise again and meet their maker. Knowing what I know now, I wish that I had taken heed of my mother's advice. Love isn't the infamous paradise that everyone says it is... infact love is vicious, once you've uncovered the pretence that it lurks behind.

Naivety led to falling in love, with the idea of falling in love. I thought that I was head over heels for a man named Harrison. He saw that I was weak and he preyed on it, paralyzing me with his seductive ways, although he knew I was pure and intended to stay that way.
At first, whilst he was pursing me I felt ravished and appreciated; but retrospectively I should have seen through his masquerade.

Admittedly I felt like I was in love with him, and his initial nurturing of me made me more and more infatuated with him.
Harrison was beautiful; an exquisite body sculpted by angels, a broad stance of six feet tall. He had dark hair and fair skin with blue eyes, his voice was harmonious and comforting.

"You're the one worth suffering for sweet."
I can still remember those words ringing in my ears as he whispered them softly whilst holding me closely to his chest; his heart beat soothing me, and his rhythmic breathing intensifying my compulsion towards him, I thought that our bond was everlasting.
Harrison courted me well; I found him bewitching, and as I began to spend more time with him, I found myself losing my grip on reality and wanting to be cemented in that moment in time, with him, for eternity.

For some time I was content with Harrison, although a dark shadow always lingered beneath the surface of the mirage I had created.
My mother's work life resembled a continuous treadmill; this allowed me to spend further precious time with Harry, that's what I called him anyway.
We used to sit and talk for hours, but one day in particular changed my life forever, instead of talking like we usually did, he sauntered towards me and his lips gently caressed mine.

I'd never felt more alive than I did in that moment. Harrison alluded to pursuing my virginity, despite my efforts to abstain.
He crudely forced me onto his red carpet, where he began to separate my clothing from my body, apart from my pants.
"Harry. Stop" I pleaded... he continued.
With hostility I began to squirm underneath him as he straddled me. He restrained me. I knew then that I was incapacitated, and nothing I did, or attempted to do would save me.

His once so sweet breathe, against my neck, moving down my bare torso accompanied with gentle kisses of torment.
His hands clenched around my wrists restricting me.
My heart dropped, tears fell onto my frozen cheeks "You taste so sweet," he uttered as he gnawed at my areola's, I cried out for help, for anyone to hear.

"The more you cry, the more I'll enjoy this" he taunted. I clamped my thighs closed; to cease him from entering me. He stopped, stood up, grabbed a knife from his kitchen, traced it down my thighs, piercing my skin so that I bled slightly. I flinched... he wedged my thighs apart, to allow himself to penetrate me.

His body moving closer to mine, he released himself, dipped his penis in the blood being released from the cuts on my thighs, and pulled my pants to one side to enter me.

Thrust after thrust. I just wished it was going to be over soon. I stayed still, because I knew if attempted to buck him off of me, he would enjoy it further and I would not allow that to happen. Yet, that didn't stop the sobbing,
"I love how you tense around me every time you cry."
Eventually, the suffering had stopped plaguing me. He stood up, as bold and as righteous as I had ever witnessed a man in my life, clothing himself, he said "Thank you, for that," handed me my clothes and left as I dressed myself.

Instantly, I clothed myself and left. Once home, I showered vigorously and made sure that every last sample of his membrane had been removed from my body. All I could see when I closed my eyes was the image of his conceited smile, over me.