Summery:He wanted her so much, it consumed them both.
Completed:June 24, 2004
He wanted her, he wanted to touch and taste her, consume all of her. And for that he watched her. She became his.
Spending hours he would watch her full and supple body move barely under her clothes as she walked through the screen that was the window from his room. The hug of cloth around her curves haunted his dreams and thoughts; to touch the smooth skin of her thighs, up the soft curve of her hip…Every image of her that he watched or dreamed of filled his life.
But he watched her. Every movement, every day. Each time her pink lips moved in words or to form the gentle pucker, even with the others. Theses were his moments. No matter what others tried to take her, she was his. The look of her face as she laughed: the widened lips, glossy teeth on her thrown back head. No matter who had made her laugh, he knew the laughter was for him. Each vision he watched made her even more his. Every mundane activity he encountered, studied gave her to him. Every time he watched her take a breath, he breathed right along with her.
He watched the soft and supple body bronze under the sun and the silky hair blow in the breeze. He even studied the pink puckers under the cold and warm rains alike. Even the cold snows didn't stop him consumption of her; the frozen air gave a life to her skin, tinting the soft flesh a red flush. He categorised every inch of her, each and everyday, after all she was his.
Years of watching and studying passed. He watched her grow. He watched the others come and go. He even watched the change, too caught up in the show to turn away or even realise what it was he was witness to.
How slowly she changed: the progression of full flesh becoming fragile and sunken. How rarely he witnessed his beauty during the day, trapped behind dark glasses and nervous looks. The others came more frequently and became more sleazy and unworthy of her. They changed from neighbourhood regulars to irregulars appearing at all hours. Only the others were mere blips to him, she was the show. Their existence and presence never really registered to him even as her glow faded under them and her show became dark.
He watched her as the bitter rains washed the colour from her once silken hair and the harsh rays of light bleach her once supple flesh like exposed bone. Light was erased from her eyes as quickly as leaves blew from the once lively trees. He embraced the cold snows again as they froze her form for his imperfect view. How blind the watcher can be.
He watched all of this. His morbid love and possession of her filling all their waking moments. But the only time he reached to touch her soft cheek it was cold. Her lips painted the false pink of life and her eyes glued shut from the world, never to open again. It had eaten him alive, been all consuming of his life, but had his twisted hunger taken her along too?
In all his time spent pinning, wanting and watching he had never seen her. Being the only one watching, he never saw. Never seeing or stalling the demon that consumed her –forcing the cold needle into her delicate veins. The demon that had consumed them both.