Obsession (Obsessive behavior) - UNDER CONSTRUCTION

OBSESSION IX - Lost love

Copyright © 2010 Alexandra-Patricia Pusca

ID 8748612

Lulu publishing

OBSESSION IX

Lost love

As soon as I finally got inside the hotel room, I took a shower and headed to bed. All I wanted to do was to sleep as long as possible, to forget everything and to think only about the future which I really hoped it would be as happy as possible.

I was again inside the stone floored castle, walking quietly on the large hallway. Without even knowing, I found myself in front of a massive wood door. As I slowly opened it, I could see a large beautiful bedroom, fully furnished in a baroque style. The room had large windows and the grey light of a rainy day penetrated through the thick glass, making me feel sad again.

As I slowly turned around I could see the same blue eyed angel, Shaan. He was staying on the bed, on his left side, his fingers slowly caressing the thin fabric of a black silk dress which lay beside him. He was wearing an all black outfit, slowly and constantly moving his fingers over the fabric of the dress, in a futile attempt of caressing it.

Without knowing, I found myself walking in his direction. His once beautiful face was now just a mask of stone cold pain. He was just a walking dead. The incredible pain made him look just like a shadow of the young man he used to be. Looking to the window, he quickly got out of the bed, pressing his forehead against the cold crystal glass.

"Even it cries!" he mumbled to himself.

"Why are you doing this to me?!" he suddenly yelled to no one, turning around. His eyes were full of pain and of an indescribable anger. His image and his powerful voice made me feel scared.

In the fraction of a second, he destroyed everything inside his room: breaking the beautifully decorated table and chairs. He broke every single object he could touch, but he didn't touch her dress. He was screaming his pain towards the sky, without the slightest chance of ever founding her again, of ever holding her in his arms. She was gone, forever.

After he calmed down a little, he slowly walked towards the bed. In a fluid movement he raised the dress from the bed, holding it with so much care that looking in his direction made me remember the archaeologist who worked with ancient pieces of art.

He buried his face in the fabric, inhaling the perfume imprinted on the silk and slowly got on the bed, tightly holding the dress in his arms. He was crying with dry sobs, his oceanic blue eyes becoming as black as the night above us, a night without stars.

After what seemed like hours of this indescribable pain, he slowly stood dropping the silk dress on the floor. His beautiful firm body which always made him look like a fallen angel betrayed the suffering and the extreme agony which quickly killed him from inside, letting just a cold and lifeless corpse behind.

He seemed lost, dead, as he mechanically walked towards the other side of the room. He looked inside a drawer and finally took out what seemed like a little black velvet box. As he opened the lid, I could finally see what it was inside: a small silver knife with amazing beautifully incrusted ancient letters on its sparkling blade.

His once gracious movements were now the ones of a zombie as he pressed the silver blade against his white marble skin. He cut deep into his skin, making the dark colored blood to freely roll down on his arm's skin. His eyes looked in the direction of her dress, expressing the suffering which every pore of his skin breathed.