My Captive Heart

(XVIII) "The More You Love Me, Sugar, The More it Makes Me Mad"

     As if the world stopped just for her to cry, Isabella spent days hidden under warm cotton sheets. Still, inside she was cold and numb to every physical thing of the world. For days, she lived inside of her head.

Food wouldn't fill her, words wouldn't comfort her, strokes wouldn't wake her. In slow motion, she let the life she lived with Prince flash before her eyes—because she knew the end was near...and then she would be able to live again. And love.

As her heart poured out the many strains of passion and poison Prince embedded, Isabella's heart began to immediately take new shape and beat at a different pace. But it was still heavy, because now she felt a yearning for something old rather than something new.

One morning, she woke to some bluesy jazz.

I get along without you very well,
Of course I do,
Except when soft rains fall
And drip from leaves, then I recall
The thrill of being sheltered in your arms.
Of course, I do,
But I get along without you very well.

I've forgotten you just like I should,
Of course I have,
Except to hear your name,
Or someone's laugh that is the same,
But I've forgotten you just like I should.

What a guy, what a fool am I,
To think my breaking heart could kid the moon.
What's in store? Should I phone once more?
No, it's best that I stick to my tune.

I get along without you very well,
Of course I do,
Except perhaps in Spring,
But I should never think of Spring,
For that would surely break my heart in two.

"Isa?"

Finally, the sound of one's voice, brought her out of her mind and back to down to Earth.

It was time.

She realized she didn't have the energy to remove the sheet from off her head. So she cracked a 'yes?' for acknowledgment.

Prince slid down the sheet to see her face. "Hi," he said smiling.

There was no reason for her to share a smile back. It was hard enough to look him in the eyes, it was almost terrifying. To know all of the times he spoke of his true love for her and the end of his philandering ways and lonely nights without her—to know it was all a lie. It was thought to be sincerity in his eyes, truth in his tone. But it was just some fantastical magic trick.

Isabella planted the side of her face back on her pillow.

"I know you're upset I haven't called, especially after what I said."

She then realized he had no clue what was really painted in her mind.

"I need to talk to you." Prince didn't mind the disconnect of their eyes. It was easier for him to speak away from her. He took a seat on the corner of the bed, down on the end near her covered feet. Different words gathered in his mind but none of them felt right. He was trying to say something he had never had to say before. "I uhh..." He cleared his throat and tried again. "I hate to see you like this. But at the same time I hate to see you happy if I'm not the source. I don't know how to not be selfish when it comes to you."

Isabella wanted to scream, to at least move, but she couldn't manage anything. Instead, a tear trickled down her cheek.

"Do you really want this?"

Isabella didn't react in any type of way.

Prince made his own assumption. "Baby, I'm sorry."

Isabella worked her mouth to speak. "You asked-her to marry you."

Prince looked over her way. "What?"