She Did Reflect

She was such a pretty girl, always so kept, so refined in her own way. Her face could only be said to have a pure, simple beauty. A light grey blue reflected a gleam of shining light from her eyes. I loved those eyes the most; they held a certain dosage of joy to me, life, sanity. I looked in those eyes and I was always home. A light pink rose tinted her cheeks, they glowed, and those full lips of hers held a tight smile. Her cheekbones stretched back revealing one little dimple and a round defined face. She was intoxicating, she was a classic collectible. The fact that she was alone astounded me, taking in the figure I worshipped from far away, I soaked up the intensity that came off of her. It took one’s breath away.
“Why are you so alone?” I asked her one day, facing her appeal bold faced. She looked at with those kind tender eyes. They danced at me; again I became lost as I soaked her in. She twirled her thick blonde hair between her tiny fingers and looked up to the ceiling. Her eyebrows turned to a frown as she searched the sky for an answer.
“I don’t know,” she answered back in sing song tone, “I guess you can say I have a problem when it comes to being with someone. I suppose I am a little odd.”
I shook my head; it was not going to be a good enough answer this time. She could not dismiss this imperitative question. No, she always blew it off, never thinking twice about her answer. Never thinking twice of the question that was asked of her.
“No I really need to know the reason. Is this something that you like putting yourself through on purpose, this loneliness that you con vey? Coming home every night to an empty bed, working your hands to the bone so that you can parade yourself for attention. Sabotaging every chance you could to a happy and healthy relationship with another human being. How can you simply say that you do not ever try to search for an answer?”
“Okay so I am not good enough, look at me.” She pats her stomach, “I can hardly look in the mirror anymore, most of time I can never love what is looking back at me. Maybe it is my own disgust for myself that it just bounces back and forth from my brain to my reflection.”
“You can have anyone you want, and you know it.” I answered softly; her response was proving to be hard for me. “I think you are wonderful.”
This time she shook her head rapidly, “I’ve been there, and I’ve done that. Yes it is true, I could have anyone I wanted, but look at where I am. The dashes on my bedpost grow, my night visitors vary in shapes and appearances, and yet the story is always the same. The story never changes one bit, our parting when the sun rises leaves me empty and sick for the rest of the day. I hate others for what they do, and in the end I wind up hating myself even more for letting them.”
As I watched her true insecure colors leak out, my perception of lust grew hungry. For a flash moment the picture struck me vividly. I pictured her trembling as she slides off her clothes; a faceless shadow stands at the end of a bed watching. She grips the cold bed sheets tightly as she throws her head back, while loveless kisses are being distributed across her neck. A strong hand wraps around her throat as this shadowed figure pins her down, pulling her hair, unknown fingers tracing around her body. I grew feverish at the thought of her helpless, overtaken by this brute force, her empty moans ringing in my silent thoughts. I rubbed my forehead working to snap myself back into my sympathetic state. I looked up at her, wide eyed and stammering.
“Why would you keep putting yourself through this?”
I could tell she was growing angry; the intensity in those eyes grew. Her pupils dilated and her fists clenched slightly. She stood stiff and trembled only a little, she flashed a glare at me.
“Because they take,” she answered in a cold grave tone, “they take away a little piece for their own pleasure every time. Every time they walk out that door, and that bed lays empty, they steal a piece.”
I took a step back, and then she paced, she walked up a few steps, made a face as if she changed her mind, turned and walked. She did it over, and over again, my face grimaced in discomfort as I watched her. Her pace turned antagonizing slow as I watched in sink into a deeper motion. Her descent into despair. Her breath then turned heavy, it was fast, deep, and her eyes grew.
“You know, I never wanted it to be this way. I never wanted them to take it away from me!” She whispered between short breaths, “I always want to say no to them every single time! THEY NEVER LISTEN!” She screamed out, and grabbed her hair; she pulled and shrieked, “It’s not fair! They don’t know what it is to have a real soul, something that feels, that has emotions, that hurts and cries. They don’t what it is to have love in their hearts and scars are on their knees. The only know how to help you get those scrapes, they know how to help you get down to the level they want, and they will lie, cheat, and steal to get there.”
She looked up at me, those beautiful eyes crazed, that thick hair toppled over her left eye, wisps of hair swept around her face. Even in her breakdown, she could still be seen with that sex appeal that she always portrayed. The portrait that painted her, “I just fooled around” character, her big round eyes still daring you to come into her world. I wanted it; I wanted the taste, that power over her. The tousled hair of madness still leaked off the appeal that drew in the dogs. Yet I knew they were never going to stop with the judgments, even I would be a victim of her blusterous wonder. Inside she was still a sweet, nice girl, it was sad in a way. She was a lamb to those wolves, and yes they ate it up whenever they had the chance. It was a meal to those fools. No one would ever be able to look past her natural beauty, her tiny waistline, a bust that would grow fervent, dishing out sweet nectars of enticing sanctity. For her, she got the concept; she was meat, a beautiful tender piece of meat. Tasty, juicy, it made mouths water. Of course she had the right to be disgusted. She never meant anything to them, and she lived her whole life that way. The thoughts raced around in my mind as those eyes burned into me. I was still entranced, I still wanted her, and I wanted her to be everything I could make her to be. I wanted to own her, to make her a conquest. I pictured her in broken images, from a Goddess divine worshipped for who she was, to a used up slave good to only a human’s desire. From loving devotion for her wonders, to the dirtiest Utopia that the most perverse chambers in my head, with a bed and an endless amount of possibilities. Knowing what this girl could be capable of made it hard to picture her as anything else. It was then I realized her beauty was a curse, it brought out the worst images in a man’s mind. A kind of image that turns on a switch in one’s brain that sends out the orders to get her, get what you want, and take it. Again to me it was sad, because she knew that she would surrender and give them what they wanted, every single time.
Her panting was still heavy, she continued the pace, and she held herself. The only arms of comfort she knew was her own, and she hugged herself tightly. She looked at me one more time and raised her fist, “I’m so ugly!” She yelled out one more time, and lunged at me.
I shattered into millions of pieces. Broken parts lay on top of each other. She looked down and a part of me saw those hauntingly beautiful pools of grey blue turn dull. She slumped down to the floor and she laid next to me. She sniffled as crimson drops splattered across her broken reflection.