bela
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- Parts 1
MatureOngoing<5 mins
Last published Fri, Apr 29, 2022
"Bela" meaning destruction in Hebrew, sounding like and often mistaken for "bella," Italian for beautiful. Both at completely different ends of multiple scales, one a verb, the other an adjective. An action word, a describing word. But still, why is it that they are so easily confused to be the other? They're pronounced the same. Yup. Simple as that. An English teacher would tell you to "dig deeper" and you'd probably pull some crap out of your ass; destructive people's behavior is often mistaken for beautiful hence the irony in the blah blah blah. 0/10. F. Fail. That's wrong, you're wrong. My Bela, she's nothing. The prime definition of empty space. She drowns in her surroundings, forever enduring the state of nothingness, herself. I'm not an English teacher though, and this isn't an assignment.
Levi Ansaldo. Continuing with our pattern of names and their meanings, Levi = joined or attached. Ansaldo = god of power. 1) Levi Ansaldo is not physically or emotionally joined or attached to anything or anybody, so that's just inaccurate. His parents would have gotten a fat zero on the assignment too if that's reassuring in any way. 2) He is powerful. The last name is at the very least something. Would that earn them a bonus point? Out of fairness? You don't care? Cool. Lol.
Is this a love story? Yes. A very very complicated one, but one nonetheless. Sometimes a friendship, at times a tragedy, and always a comedy. Bela and Levi. Perfection? No. Poisonous? Not always. It's simply, beautiful destruction.
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𝗧𝗮𝗹𝗲 𝗼𝗳 𝗗𝗲𝗮𝘁𝗵 & 𝗛𝗶𝘀 𝗽𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗰𝗲𝘀𝘀 Revenge Countless souls have fallen prey to its grasp, their lives shattered as deeply as those they sought to harm, if not more so. For most, mere death isn't the end It's not enough to satiate their thirst They crave retribution, wish for something beyond the grave. They want misery upon those who've wronged them. Long for the torment of those who've wounded them But at the end of the day, it's merely a wish, A burning desire for- well, nothing realistic, really For they are weak. Powerless Some may even deem them useless But then, there exist the select few- those who refuse to settle for anything less than the worst, denying death's grasp to unleash a living hell upon their enemies, Those who take matters into their own hands, seizing control & becoming the architects of their own vengeance, Now those, those are dangerous. For in their eyes, the concept of contentment is a foreign notion, replaced by a searing ache for more- More agony, despair. More misery, more wails. More destruction, chaos. People like him, they feed off of fear, thrive in causing pain. They're cunning, calculating, heartless But frankly, even the most twisted of them seem like harmless amateurs in comparison to him. He reeks of death Exudes darkness, sorrow Death is all that shadows his steps, making his existence a reminder of the inevitable fate that awaits his victims. And whispers in the Russian underworld speak of him as Mors- The god of death So, what happens when a girl, who abandoned her family, her life & the very empire bestowed upon her- just to escape the sight of death, catches the eyes of the reaper? What happens when he pulls her into the abyss of his world, intent on destroying all she has fought to be in pursuit of vengeance? And what happens when, as the day wanes, the embodiment of her deepest fear captures her eyes as well?Complete
"Please, stop," I begged, my voice cracking. Tears streamed down my face, my eyes swollen and burning. "I can't handle this anymore. Just stay away from me." His words, "Little Angel, don't say that. I'm here to love you," were like a cruel joke. Love? The word tasted like ash in my mouth. His actions screamed something entirely different. "Your sweet words won't change anything. I need you to keep your distance," I responded firmly, putting all my energy into my voice. My breath hitched. One minute we were arguing, the next...fire. Agony seared my throat. He shoved me onto the bed, my head hitting the pillows hard. Stunned, I begged silently, God, please, save me from this monster. His hands were on my throat again, squeezing, stealing my air. Blurred vision, his eyes bloodshot, furious. "How dare you?" he growled. "Consequences, baby." ************************************ He, steeped in darkness, she, bathed in light. A collision was inevitable, a clash of opposing forces that threatened to shatter them both. Would he succumb to the light, or would he drag her down into his darkness? The stakes were higher than either of them could have imagined. This wasn't just love. It was a war for their souls. Content Advisory: This content may contain sensitive themes including abuse, psychological distress, and sexual abuse. Reader discretion is advised. Please feel free to skip if these topics are potentially triggering for you.
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