This is one
of those lethal love stories. Not the ones that make you puke, but shiver.
Deborah loves Rudy. She’s overwhelmed by the sweetness, which cannot be
explained, you either feel it, or it is alien to you. Never before had Deborah
felt it, never! What’s this brilliant being, how lucky they are to be graced
with love! For the first time she is ready to say “yes” , to pledge for
eternity to him, to pledge all of herself. Deborah is true in her emotions and
devotion, but what she cannot see is how exquisitely her lover lies. He’s a
master of the art, he’s learnt to fake every single little gesture of affection
and attention to perfection. He kisses, he touches, he gives and feels but a
thing in his shell of a body and all his efforts are subjected to one hidden
purpose. Hurt her and hurt her brother. Imagine the man you love with all your
heart, imagine the power of these feelings. Now discover all his moves are
aimed at the ultimate goal of destroying you.
Completely. In horrible pain. The
most adored person in your life dreams to cut off your limbs and bleed you dry.
That’s what Rudy wants from Deborah. There’s no love in play here. There’s only
a hunter and the hunted. Deborah only serves a purpose for Rudy. The sad thing
is this isn’t a love story that happens too rarely. Lovers kill each other so
damn often we can’t even believe in a love devoid of the
monster element. When you feel you are being slowly devoured, will you run?
Will you abandon a dysfunctional love for your survival? Survival is a chance.
The love of Deborah and Rudy is a dead end. We know who would’ve died. To think
that would’ve made an impact is naïve. It’s like thinking another good supper
somehow alters your future. No, you will be sacrificed for entertainment or
pleasure or some goal. There are many ways to kill a lover, draining him of
blood is only one of them. You can be digested slowly day after day, maimed and
altered, until you cannot recognize yourself as you talk, as you move, only in
the mirror you will appear the same, but probably your eyes would’ve lost their
glimmer. No, Deborah will stop loving Rudy. There was never any love to begin
with, only the nurtured illusion of such. If you run fast enough you will make
it. You will become whole again in time. Rudy does not deserve your tears and
your pain, he is the insignificant scum who will never be able to experience
your joy and nobility. He is just a consumer and an ambitious rat. Deborah will
love again, and she will love better.
1 comment:
Nice story, congrats ;) Yes, we all know the kind-venomous vermin, feeding on the best you soul can offer. The kind that wants something, doesnt offer it in return, but woes when he doesn't gets it. Then he totally deserves it. All lies-the notion that he really loved her, despite all of his peers telling him not to, warning him about her. That he just chose to ignore them and sever all his contacts, just for the sake of beeing with her. Of feeling complete in the rare moments, when she's stable enough and not torn apart with feelings, inhibitions and insecurities. What if they both made mistakes, each one bigger than the last. What if she decided to leave him and experiment, while he was alone, surrounded by creatures, who "whished him well", but were actually vultures, yearning to fill their throats with a piece of gossip, while barfing stories that made his heart freeze solid. He was the scruffy dog, waiting for his master at the gallows, while the buzzards cast their shadows on his desease ridden body. He knew that his master will never be back. That he's either dead or with a new dog, with shinier coat and a flawless pedigree. That didn't stop him from waiting anyway-the memories kept him warm at night, and if there was a soul that winter night at the gallows then they'd probably see him waiving his tail, dreaming. Nobody loves the rabid dog, people get tired of him, despite his good intentions, they see them as fake, despite his loyalty, they see it as a secret agenda, despite his tears, they see them as an act-never changing, ever present, as if they were...nah, nevermind, vermins aren't like that. They are here to eat the best your soul can offer. And don't be afraid of the dog at the gallows, he won't bite you, he won't even be able to see you, behind his blind red eyes he's dead anyway. Still waiting for his master to show. There at the gallows.
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