Repentance ✔️

Stefan

POV part III

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They think they know me.

But all along, I wear a mask, a facade to hide away my true self.

But alas, the mask I wore  shattered because of her.

And this is how I knew her, and how she became the reason of my life.

And my death.

...........

I saw a devil, hiding behind the face of an angel.

She was undoubtedly beautiful as the moonlight highlighted her features. Through her lashes which flutters like the wings of a butterfly, through her eyes which shined like the stars along with her button like nose and red cupid bow shaped lips. Her moon white skin glistens along with the dark as she walk along the garden full of different hues of flowers in her way.

Then she lock eyes with me.

Or so I thought.

Her eyes were clouded with nothing, she was pure. Coldness emits in her gaze as she travels her sight towards another figure.

"Stefan"

The sweet sound of my mother brought me back, the remnants of her eyes still haunting my mind up to this day.

"What is it mother?" I ask as I held her small boney hands.

"Promise me, promise me something my lovely child" she gently said as she continuesly grip my hand for support.

My confusion must have been evident for she smiled, fondness was seen in her earlier dull and lifeless eyes.

"Promise me that when you met a girl that holds a special place in your heart.........you will cherish her deeply, you would.......you would c-care fo-for her, and lastly.........you will die for her"

Then her tears flowed, endless sobs were heard in her tight lips as she trembles from the unknown emotion.

I stayed still, not k owing what caused her to cry like this, to mourn for some emotion that I don't even want to.

Love.

I hate that word.

My mother poured her love towards a demon, and all that is left is her body. She's living without a soul, for she had sell it into the devil himself she called as husband.

The man who was suppos be my "father" was a cold heartless man. He didn't care for anything, only business. Even though he has no other women in his life, it didn't diminish the fact that he was a sh*tty father, always have, always will be.

My mother would always beg to my father, and for that, I hate her.

Days passed as my weak mother finally left the living, her eyes closed as she quitely submitted on her own demise.

Looks of pity were thrown to me as I clench my hands. My gaze turned cold when I saw the frigid state of my so called father as he coldly watched my mother's coffin being buried six feet underground.