The Fiend

In that golden glow of early Saturday morning light he stares into her eyes, dark, dark blue like a moody sky, they remind him of that lyric in that Guns n’Roses song, and her narrow face framed by hair yellow as fire. Her milk-white skin still unblemished, no pimples or scars; her nose is in perfect harmony and proportion with the rest of her face, and the two pink rose leaf lips, he imagines they taste of strawberry.

When he looks down her body, past the delicate neck bones, he swallows and swallows all of the extra saliva and his heart pounds like a fist from inside the tight skin of a drum and his stomach tight as though it’s been twisted three times.
She is the most beautiful creature on earth.
Standing there, she continues to look right at him. He stares at her eyes deep water blue. He stares at her skin pale white and her lips rose pink at her body she is so small. He stares.
He doesn’t know how long it has been, he is aware of her lips moving, seducing him, swallowing him entirely, he doesn’t know how long it has been. What he does know is that everything she is now will soon never be again, and that truth absolutely, positively breaks his heart.


She is still looking right at him.
“DAD! Are you listening to me? Mum said that you’d take me to Lucy’s…”


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