Word by word, piece by piece, she exposed the truth.
Each day a new letter came, until there was nothing left to tell.
No secrets to hide, no stories untold.
This is the story of Layla.
One body, one soul, one heart but two consciences.
An angel. A devil.
I was quite obnoxious and despicable at the time and perhaps that lead to my betrayal. But no one ever considered that maybe I wasn't the devil.
No one knew of the secrets he kept, the games he played, the lies he told. All they saw was the perfect façade he wore, the mask of perfection replicating the expressions of a man in love.
He was with me the whole way. But his heart was not.
The convenience store was selling his heart out for half of its price. Many customers were attracted to his love, sold out so cheaply. I was among them, that night I met him in the bar. I remember seeing him sitting on the bar stool, lost and heartbroken, trying to drown his demons in the bottom of a beer bottle to stop them from arising and wreaking more havoc on his broken heart.
He was lost.
So I went and found him.
And when I was lost.
I was left hoping one day he'd come save me.
But he never did.
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