I was mesmerized the first time I saw her. It was at our college farewell, and I couldn’t turn away from the graceful nymph who walked through the door just as I was wondering whether to go home or stay. She was like the moon come down to walk the earth in person. Her lips were the blush of the eastern sky at dawn. Her eyes sparkled with joy and mischief, putting the fake champagne smuggled in by some of my friends to shame. The elegance of her walk, hips swaying like a runway model’s, only more gracefully, was spellbinding. I couldn’t turn away from her ethereal form all night. Wherever she went, my steadfast eyes followed.
By the end of the hour, I had decided that my life had no meaning if I couldn’t make her mine. I walked over to her confidently and introduced myself. She smiled and talked to me, not shy about laughing at my silly jokes. Yet, when I tried to take her hand and get her onto the dance floor, she pulled back. She obviously didn’t want to give her friends material for gossip. I understood her hesitation. Instead of pressing her to dance with me, I asked her for her number. She hesitated again. By then I was sure she liked me and was just playing games. I teased her that she was unsocial, still she didn’t budge. Well, two can play at a game.
I suddenly grabbed her phone from her hand and punched my number in, shooting myself a missed call. When she reached for the phone, I held it out of her reach, laughing and teasing. She was pretending to be annoyed, but she was secretly having fun. I stepped close to her, our bodies almost touching, as she snatched back her phone. I was so tempted to touch her softly curving cheek or plant a kiss on her fragrant neck, but I restrained myself. It wouldn’t do to move too fast.
She didn’t answer my calls at first. I didn’t mind since I knew this was another game pretty girls like to play. I kept calling and messaging her. When she blocked me, that was the first time I felt really annoyed with her. Still, she was testing my persistence, so I bought another SIM card and called her. This time, she answered. After all, this was what she had been waiting for, to see how I could overcome any obstacles for her. Before she could say anything, I asked her on a date. She refused, citing work. I didn’t give up. Of course not!
I managed to find out where she lived and turned up at her house one evening with flowers and chocolates. I knew her parents were out. I’d made sure to find that out so that she wouldn’t hesitate to spend some alone time with me. She seemed surprised to see me, which was good because that was what I had been aiming for. I told her that if she was too busy to go out with me, I was happy to accommodate her whims and come to her place. In any case, we’d have headed to her place or mine after our date for “alone time”.
I think my words made her shy, because she shut the door quickly. I told her that I was not a flake, that I wouldn’t budge from her door until she got ready and joined me in a celebration of our love. She didn’t reply. I kept ringing the bell until it suddenly stopped ringing. Maybe it was broken or something. Then, suddenly, I heard a male voice calling me. Had her parents returned? No, it was a stranger. He was looking grim and purposeful. I wondered who he was and how he knew my name. I demanded to know. Instead of answering, he grabbed me roughly by the shoulder. It hurt so much! I shouted at him to stop abusing me. He laughed as another man, who was obviously his friend, joined us.
The second man’s uniform told me that they were both cops. I was sure then that some misunderstanding was at the root of the whole situation. I tried to explain to them that they were probably looking for someone else. They slapped me—so hard it brought involuntary tears to my eyes—and told me they had the right man, only not in such polite words. They almost dragged me out of the building and into their car. I protested all the way, reminding of my rights, but they didn’t care.
They roughed me up much worse at the police station. I could have fought one man, no problem. There were many of them, and they were professionals. I had to endure their abuse. They told me that I had to stay away from my love, that if I ever tried to call or visit her again, things will be much worse for me. I promised them to do as they were telling me. What choice did I have? I’m sure her parents or neighbours must have seen me and called the cops to keep us separate.
Though I am not a coward by any means, I don’t want her to suffer her parents’ anger and punishments on my account. My love is generous, and so I will take myself with my broken heart away from her, as much of a torture as it is. And I will try to spend the rest of my sad, lonely days just imagining what it would have been like to be with her, to make her mine completely, to have her body and soul for myself and no other. Because, no one can take away my thoughts, and in my thoughts she will always be mine alone.
This post is a part of Blogchatter Blog Hop.
For the May 19 – May 25 Fiction Prompt: Write a story where villain is the narrator.
#BlogchatterBlogHop
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