Innocent Eyes

Chapter Nine

I was so spent as I was listening to this music while writing this chapter, over and over.
Cheers 🥂

I was studying his face. He was asleep, peacefully, his face free of frown lines which were carved on his forehead, as his identity. His absurdly innocent face... Dark hair... his unattractive plain features, that if someone happened to pass by him on a crowded street, in a café or anywhere would not recall his face on the second encounter. That typical... That nothing... nothing but frightfully everything, everything in my doomed life.

I raised my hand in a faint attempt towards his face and fisted my palm when an irritating agony overwhelmed me in the rush of burning tears. Gasping silently I couldn't decipher the opposite feelings heavily weighing in my heart.

Dejectedly torn between a sick addiction or a pure hatred.

I softly sniffled as I didn't intend to wake him up, as a wrong sign of seduction in his eyes, leading to purplish marks on my body. My wasted body.

I tried to escape, to run away.

But I had nothing as he took everything from me. And I had become a ghost living in the dark of his house. No one was waiting for me.

I was no one.

I had no one.

I had nothing.

I could taste the bitterness of coffee that he used to make me drink at nights, and no one would have guessed how I was yearning to add sugar to sweeten my coffee, but he liked to taste the bitterness while kissing me, everything was so dim and tasteless about him, maybe he wanted to reach the real taste, the bold and bare reality. I closed my eyes not to see his vexing face, a true visualization of my nightmares.

"Why are you still awake?"

Hearing his drowsy voice, I opened my eyes, instantly, shivering as his dark sharp gaze grasped mine.

"Why are you still awake... Melina?"

He whispered as I felt the warmth of his hand on my arm.

"I... I just can't sleep..." I stuttered. His hand softly caressed my cheek, wiping away my tears with his fingertips, and I watched in awe as he tasted my tears, deeply in thought, as if to contemplate why I was crying.  " mmm... I taste grief...Some useless fantasies... Love... "

I could see the coming shade of an impure smirk looming on his lips as he continued in a dangerously low tone. "And I taste... lust... "

Dreamily tracing his fingers on air as if touching imaginary hair, I burst into tears when the maddening act slapped me hard in the face and I screamed, for my shaved off head, for my gone blond hair that was attached to a violin's bow, hanging on my room's wall, sneering.

He immediately covered my mouth, daring me to scream again. "DO NOT."

I nodded while his dark eyes held a mocking softness that propelled a vile torrent of feelings to my bones, making me to tremble as I was aware of the true meaning of his softness.

"You are so beautiful. Look at your golden hair." He leaned in to smell the imaginary hair, inhaling deeply. "Ah... the smell. Your favorite rose shampoo." He cocked his head when I whimpered, staring at me, soullessly, as if staring at death. "I'm so patient with you. You should be buried by now, with our unborn child. I'm so patient with you sweetheart." And kissed my wet cheeks as his hand that was holding my arm ran down to my waist, smoothly to reach the torturous place and to drag out the unwanted moans.

Unwanted wetness, as my instinctive response to his known touches, unwanted name rolling on my tongue so wrongly that it sounded more out of anguish. "Ah... Mason..."