Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
╚═══════════════╝
H I M
All I saw was red as I moved across the cracked, foliage covered road. The only thing on my mind was Eleanor.
If I had learned anything from knowing her, it was that all actions have consequences.
That night, in the infirmary, the only thing on my mind was her. No future, no past. Just right then. This beautiful girl letting a deformed monster touch her. Something I had wanted, had dreamt of, had lusted for in an almost innocent yearning manner. Something I could not have unless it was given to me outright. I don't know why she let me, why she gave it to me. I had hoped it was because things were going to change. That she would accept me and her feelings for me.
But then afterwards, she shed me off of her, like a bird prunes unwanted feathers. Nothing hurt more than the walls she encased herself in. Why are you hiding from me? I should have asked. You don't have to be afraid. Your heart is safe with me. All words left unspoken and the distance grew all the same, settled back into the secure arms length of friendship. As if it had never happened. She had to have thought it was a mistake, that we were a mistake. She was not mine to have, to hold, and never would be. Even after we had touched in the oldest known way.
But that gentle sin had a consequence we now suffered. The unintended creation of a new life.
How one moment we shared months ago can change the direction of everything. Can alter what once mattered into an entirely new set of responsibilities.
Can you imagine loving someone so much it physically hurts? I see her and she's just so beautiful that my breath catches in my throat and I just stand there strangled by my own adoration? To touch her was to die and be reborn all in one second. To know her was a merciful gift to an undeserving sinner and proof that perhaps there was some ultimate higher being that answered the prayers of a lonely boy who once cried himself to sleep in the cold dark.
It was a simple fact. I did not deserve Eleanor.
I had done so many terrible, awful, unspeakable things to my short sixteen years of this sorrowful life, most of which I had Eleanor to apologize to.
I had killed her brother in a fit of rage and determination to prove myself. I had left her behind to rot in the prison when my father pulled me from the burning chaos, my screams of her name falling on deaf ears. I had begged her for words she could not say. I had planted a child in her that neither of us were prepared to carry.
With all the wrong I had done, all the things I was so truly sorry for, I knew I needed to somehow make things right. Do something good.
