Warning this chapter mentions physical abuse and emotional distress.
---
Love is a beautiful thing, especially when shared between two people who are willing to fight for it. But what happens when one person confuses love with obsession? What does that mean for the one who truly felt something pure for the other? Although naïve, should they be held responsible for what's in their heart, especially if they were deceived by the very person who held such a big place in it?
Love is a beautiful thing, yet it can also be incredibly distasteful. People can be easily manipulated, making them more susceptible to false love—love that appears so deep it could drive someone to kill. But that was just an illusion. They didn't kill for them out of love; they did it because they hated the way anyone else looked at them. They hated the way others would breathed the same air as them, the way they'd smile at another person's joke. They took these things as personal affronts, wounds to there ego. And when they finally acted on that twisted intuition, they blamed it on love—and then, you blamed them.
Now, when this person looks at the word "love," they see it as something that will never be true. Instead, it has become the weakness of a relationship, a dependency on someone else. Now, when they see the word "love," they see it as nothing more than an illusion for hate.
—————
Destiny was a bright young girl with her whole life ahead of her. But her parents were preparing to have a difficult conversation, one that might force her to throw away her future for a man. Did she know this man? Yes. Did she love him? No. Yet her parents insisted that she could grow to love him.
And grow she did.
He was undeniably charming—mixed skin, eyes the color of rich soil, hair perfectly faded with loose curls on top. He stood tall, maybe 6'3", with a well-built physique and tattoos running up one arm. Incredibly wealthy, he was the picture-perfect man every woman dreamed of.
They would sit by the creek and talk for hours each day. At first, it felt like a chore to her, something she was obligated to do. But over time, she began to look forward to it. She was only 16, while he had just turned 19. Within two months, she had already developed a huge crush on him and was starting to feel happy about the prospect of marrying him when she turned 20.
Destiny had been homeschooled for most of her life, and was considered a prodigy by most professors who taught her. She had dreams of conquering the world, free from worries. This was the one thing that kept her from fully submitting to the man who was slowly eating away at her heart.
One day, as they chatted about anything and everything, he said something that struck her deeply, changing her mind completely: "You know, out of all the people I've ever talked to, you are by far the kindest, brightest, funniest one. Even if things don't work out, you will make a wonderful wife someday." She couldn't help but blush at the compliment.
Fast forward a year, and she had moved in with him. She was happy—until she wasn't. She came home to their beautiful penthouse one day to find him with another woman glued to his hip. She had been peacefully studying quantum equations when she was met with the ugly sight. She didn't understand; she had done everything right, everything to make him happy. The bimbo on his side let out a laugh at something he had said, and then it happened—a kiss. He placed his lips on the other woman's, and Destiny was frozen in place. She didn't know how to react. She felt angry, but even more upset with herself. The next day, she confronted him. It was the first time he had ever laid hands on her, and not in the romantic, loving way she so desperately wanted from him. But with hate, with spite, almost enjoying her helplessness. Each day, she would cover her bruises, pretending nothing had happened until he needed a punching bag again. At 18, she was legally no longer bound to her parents but instead bound to this man, this creature who had decided to ruin her innocent perception of love.
And it wasn't just her he hurt. He started hurting others—people who looked at her the wrong way, or who were a bit too friendly. Then came the day when he killed a childhood friend of hers, right in front of her. He enjoyed it, and the only words he could muster were, "Look at what you made me do. Can you see how much I love you?" Those words, so empty to her now, disgusted her as she reflected on them.
Two years passed, and she had now reached the age of 20. But as much as she loved him, she couldn't marry this man. He had twisted the meaning of love, and now she was desperately clinging to the last bit of humanity she had left. She couldn't take another beating, another insult, another night of hearing sounds coming from his room when he claimed he was sexually frustrated because she wanted to wait. She was tired—tired of all the abuse she had endured from this man. If only he could see how much she was hurting inside for him. Maybe then, he would realize he didn't deserve her love. That's when she decided she would leave.
Her wedding was in a months time, but she was not going to stay and live this life for the rest of her days. She was packing up the last of her things, planning to slip away that night, when she felt his presence behind her. She knew exactly who it was, but she was still afraid to turn around.
"What are you doing?" he questioned.
"What does it look like I'm doing? I'm leaving you," she replied.
He laughed, almost in disbelief that she could ever do such a thing. He thought to himself, She isn't strong enough. "No, you're not," he said with the utmost confidence.
"That's where you're wrong. I'm done being your punching bag. I'm done hearing you bring other women into the house. I'm done being your verbal outlet whenever you're frustrated. You put all your problems on me, and I'm done. I'm young; I have a life, I have dreams, and you're just holding me back. If this is what love means, then I don't want it."
That's when she felt it—a strike across her cheek. He yanked her by her hair, screaming profanities at her, telling her how she could never leave him. In a moment of desperation, she grabbed the nearest object and stabbed him. Blood started to pour from his mouth, and tears streamed down her cheeks. She was crying for this piece of scum she once loved. No, she still loved him—how pathetic, she thought. She stared at him as he gasped for breath, helpless, almost. "I will come for you" She smiled a bit, knowing she was finally free and his last words were pointless. She took her suitcase and everything she had packed, and walked out the door. That was the last she saw of him—the man who, instead of wiggling his way into her heart, had chipped away at it little by little, making it painful to let him go. She hated that her heart still yearned to be next to him, to be close to him, even after everything he had done to her. But she had to move on.
She was off to her stepfather's, knowing he would be upset with the failed arrangement but hoping he would understand the circumstances. With her mother on her side, she was sure he would let her stay.
She thought to herself, How could I have loved this man so much that I stayed?
She left that thought behind, realizing love—what a terrible thing it can be.
————————-
Hey everybody I know y'all low key pisssd at me for going MIA, but I just have so much to do!
I appreciate everyone who is still reading!!!
