The first time Marilyn had seen him was when she had bumped into him in the market place in her first year. He had smiled at her and her heart belonged to Chris Selvan from that moment onwards.
She would have moved the heaven and hell for him. If only he paid her with a shard of his love, his attention.
But all she became was the witness to his shenanigans with ever changing girlfriends. The limit was reached at the graduation party-a party her best friend, Idris forced her to attend. Unable to stand the public display of lust, she ran away into the woods nearby to calm herself and scream at the unfairness of it all.
She didn’t notice the exposed tree roots and stumbled hard on it, falling down thus scraping her hands on the rocks.
Wincing slightly on seeing her bleeding palm, she searched for a handkerchief and found none. She limped towards the moss covered rocks and rubbed her tears with the back of her hand and gingerly rubbed her palm on it to clean off the dirt.
In her crushing sorrow, she didn’t notice the person inside the vortex of wind standing inside the pentagram of rocks.
He asked her the reason for summoning him with her blood, tears and desire.
Sorrow blinded, she wished for Chris.
And he demanded flesh of her flesh, blood of her blood, formed from passion and desire.
She agreed to it and thought naught.
But in her curiosity she asked his name, but he was gone by then.
Chris and Idris found her passed out in the porch, later that morning. And it was whirlwind romance from then on for Chris and her which ended in marriage by her next birthday.
All was well in her life.
. . .
He wrapped his arms around the swollen belly of his wife from behind her as his child kicked inside. He smirked.
As Marilyn Selvan enjoyed the warm embrace of her husband she failed to see her husband’s eyes turn pitch black. Her shadow on the wall was in an embrace of an indistinct shape.
He got the first born that he wanted, either ways.
After all, a deal’s a deal.
