Innocent ✔️
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- Parts 66
"I am one of them, baby and I will protect you with my life!"
Was the sentence that made me fall down my knees and believe him, give him all I could give but it wasn't easy. I didn't choose this life. I don't want it but when I saw him I just thought that maybe, just maybe, he'd be the one who'd take all the pain of my past away with a small kiss of his kissable lips. At least that was what I expected.
Perhaps, the devil that pushed me in hell, got sick of me enjoying it there and he sent me someone that looks so angelic when he smiles to make me feel like I'm in heaven. But sadly, as soon as I leaned in to kiss his lips, I realized that just looking in his eyes, I'd feel in heaven but looking around and seeing all those demons, my demons, smirking at me, knowing they won because I let him in but he was just one of them when I thought he was different.
At the end of the day, I was just a maid in his father's house but I didn't look at it that way when I fell for him and that was how I lost myself.
-Read to know how she lost herself, who is the angle and the devil, how did her demons won when she was trying so hard to run away from them. Find out in INNOCENT. Enjoy :)
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A scent. A scar. A slow-burning fucking romance dressed as nostalgia. It started with a fruit. Not love, not sex - a goddamn strawberry. The kind that looks like it's been kissed by every shade of red your childhood never had. He didn't share it. Didn't speak of it. Just tasted it once, and carried the ache ever since. Years later, she walked in - smelling exactly like that forgotten sweetness. Not perfume. Not fantasy. Just... truth. Sharp, quiet, terrifying truth. The kind that crawls under your skin and whispers remember me when you least want to. He lied to her face. About himself. About the million ways he'd already started unraveling. But she knew. Women like her always know. She stared at him like sin dressed in judgment - and touched his wrist like she already owned his pulse. And he? He was fucked. Because she wasn't just beautiful. She was red. That memory. That craving. And no matter how much he pretended to be in control - she was already in his bloodstream. This isn't a love story. It's a slow possession. By scent. By memory. By her. And it ends exactly how it starts - with him on his knees, and her smelling like fucking strawberries.
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