Dark Twisted Love: Beautiful Pain (1)

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Young Adult  |  House: Booksie Classic
"Love hurts whether it is right or wrong." She is a wedding planner, hoping to find her Prince Charming. Unfortunately, life isn't a fairytale and love isn't always beautiful.

Submitted: December 01, 2015

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Submitted: December 01, 2015

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Who would have thought she'd be the one pressing a knife against my neck, staring down at me with eyes full of hatred and insanity? Who would have thought that the sweet, innocent girl full of love and affection would turn into this cold-hearted creature with a thirst for blood?

In this moment, I'm trapped on the dirty, cold ground as she straddles her legs around my waist. My hands are tied behind my head, my legs are stuck on the ground and her thin, fragile body is holding me down firmly. Her fiery, hazel-green eyes are glaring at me while her face is a perfect picture of thunder and storm. I can feel her uneven, rapid gasps of breath lingering above my mouth and I can almost taste her words of hatred. My eyes travel down to her rosy-red lips, wet and sparkling with her spit, and my eyes gradually fall onto her chest as it rises and falls to the rhythm of my beating heart.

Slap.

The wind is knocked out of me momentarily while I shake my head, snapping out of my daze.

"You never listen!" She yells, her voice breaking with a fresh set of sobs. Her spit is flying everywhere and her cheeks are burning a dark red, matching the color of my blood as it seeps out of my grazed neck and stains the cold knife. She pulls me close to her fuming face, her fist clenched in my collar, as she fires out questions at me.

"Who is she? Is she more fun than me? Do you love her? Why can't you ever be faithful!?"

It's weird that I can feel a pounding sensation between my legs - a twisted pleasure I'm getting from this moment.

It's weird that I enjoy hurting her and driving her to this point of pure madness.

It's weird that I want to taste her bitter tears and humiliate her and mess with her mind over and over.

It's weird to think that she meant nothing to me at first.

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The Stygian Coffee Shop was a place that I avoided at all costs. It was too crowded in there, too small and there were reported sights of rats and cockroaches infecting the area. The floor tiles were stained with dirt, mud prints and covered in rubbish. Chewing-gums were stuck firmly under the tables and chairs. Flies buzzed around and landed in people's food and hair. Even the sight of the coffee shop repelled me with its dreary gray furniture and sickening lime-green walls, covered with dull portraits of flowers that looked like they were dying to me.

Yet I found myself somehow sitting in a corner by myself, trapped in this hell-hole, trying to forget the pressure of finding a girl to please my adopted parents. As I looked around at the crowd of people talking loudly and laughing with their mouths open, spit spraying everywhere with stale sweat lingering in the air, I kept wondering how the coffee shop was still running. What happened to those health care organizations and their investigations?

"Hey there!" A soft voice said, disrupting my thoughts.

By then, I was sipping bitter, black coffee. It was disgusting but I continued drinking it since I liked the burning sensation of the thick liquid running down my throat. I looked up from my cup and saw a young woman gazing at me curiously with her wide, hazel-green eyes. The dull amber light highlighted her caramel-wavy hair, mocha skin and made her lips appear redder. She seemed out of context with this horrible place.

"Um... can I join you?" The strange girl asked me, her eyes shining with warmth while she gestured to the empty seat in front of me. No girl has ever approached me before. This was the first sign that she was different. I answered her question with a quick nod and she responded by plopping her petite butt on the hard, gray chair.

"I'm Shana," she said, a small smiling curving on her innocent features. There was a moment of silence between us before she gestured towards me with her manicured fingers, "And you are...?"

"Brandon," I lied.

"Brandon! That's a nice name," she complimented in a typical manner. Her smile expanded as she revealed her pearly-white teeth. I gave her another nod, my mind slowly calculating that this girl was interested in me. Maybe I could show her off to my adopted parents to calm them down. Firstly, I needed to find out if she was single and acquaint myself with her before I popped the question.

"So tell me a bit about yourself, Brandon," she said, her tone becoming provocative when she said my fake name. Her innocent exterior changed, as she twirled her fingers in her hair and leaned closer, slightly pressing her chest together. Immediately she reminded me of a stereotypical seductress - nothing more than a sexual object.

"I like..." I hesitated momentarily, before I noticed tattooed roses circling her wrist and her earphones dangling down her long, exposed neck. "Art and music," I answered.

"I love art too! Especially fine art. I'm a great drawer but I'm not too good at painting. I also love photography and..."

She continued to yap on, while I nodded my head like a never-ending bobblehead.

"Same," I would say, implying that I enjoyed the same songs as her or I liked performing whatever activity interested her when, in reality, we were completely different people.

"We have so much in common," she chirped, giggling in secret merriment.

My neck was beginning to hurt from nodding too much and it wasn't long before I pulled a neck muscle.

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A couple of weeks dragged on. Shana had given me her number. I didn't bother talking to her much because she bored me. Nonetheless, I did notice that whenever I sent her a simple text message, she immediately replied to me with a bunch of smiley emojis. It took me a couple of days to reply to her because I couldn't be bothered to engage in a conversation.

"Lee, have you found a girlfriend yet?" My adopted mother asked me bluntly one late evening. I was tucked away in my bedroom for the whole day, watching a long series about murderers, psychopaths and deranged criminal activities.

"Not yet," I murmured, shoving a handful of chips into my mouth and gluing my eyes to my computer screen. The chip melted into my mouth, leaving behind a trail of salted goodness which I washed away with concentrated orange juice.

"You need to find a girl soon," my adopted mother said in a pleading tone.

Both my adopted parents were Catholic. They couldn't have children of their own due to infertile problems and so they adopted me when I was twelve years old. My mother, in particular, descended from a strict Catholic background and she feared that her family will disown her because there was a rumor flying around that I was apparently homosexual. My father is more light-hearted, showing signs that he didn't really care too much about my sexuality. However, when he witnessed the negative effects this had on my mother, he pressurized me to show interest in girls.

When my mother left my room, I stared off into the distant for a while, contemplating whether or not I should fix my image. Eventually, I whipped out my phone and sent her a message.

Me: (3 seconds ago) yo

As soon as I hit sent, my phone buzzed loudly in my hands, informing me that I got an immediate reply. This was the second sign that she was different.

Shana: (2 seconds ago) Hey Brandon!!! :) :D :P :L :D

I felt my forehead throbbing slowly in irritation. I just wanted to give up before I even started, but she was the only option that I had unfortunately.

Me: (10 seconds ago) hru?

Shana: (4 seconds ago) I'm great, thanks for asking, haha! How about you? :) :D :P :D xD

I rolled my eyes at her redundant emojis. Then I chucked my phone away and continued watching the rest of the series. It took half an hour to finish. I was calm again when I reached for my phone and saw that she left more long messages which I easily skim-read.

I ignored all of her questions that she asked me and decided to text her one simple thing that would change both of our lives.

Me: (5 seconds ago) wanna meet up?

That's all she was to me in the beginning. Just a random girl who I wanted to showcase off to my family to get them off my back.

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The cold air slaps me harshly as I struggle to open my heavy eyelids. The white, bright light streaming in through the open ceiling causes a stinging pain in the back of my eyes. My body is stiff and uncomfortable. I try to stretch my arms and legs, but I suddenly become aware that I'm chained down onto a metal table surface. I look around the icy, dreary room. The walls are stony and tall covered with stained, church-like windows. The floor is concrete and bare, wide and spacious. I feel completely isolated, lost and small in this miserable room.

Confusion clouds my mind temporarily but it all vanishes when I hear that soft, spiteful voice.

"Did you have a nice rest?"

I look over to my side and see her standing near the big arch double doors with one hand on her curvy hip and the other hand holding a metal bat. Her appearance startles me. Her mocha skin is caked with white foundation, making her complexion appear pale and ghostly. This contrasts with her dark Gothic make-up and spiky, black hair. Did she dye her hair? Her outfit is also strange too. She is wearing a blood-red corset, which hugs her hourglass figure and exposes the flesh of her chest. She doesn't have on footwear but her long, shapely legs are covered with black knee-high socks.

She is staring at me with detached, cold eyes and she swiftly moves closer to me, her grip tightening on the metal bat. I feel a sexual thrill coursing through my body, even though I know I should be paralyzed with fear.

"You used me," she hisses, baring her sharp, white predatory teeth at me. Raising the metal bat, she strokes my face with the icy-cold weapon, her empty eyes still staring straight at me.

"You never cared about me. You showed you cared more about other things! You spent time with other girls more than you ever spent with me! You never protected me and you didn't bother to fight for me. You let other guys hurt me and you didn't stop them! No, you just continued to watch and laugh while they embarrassed me in front of everyone! You only ever used me for your entertainment -- I didn't mean a thing to you!"

Her words are only feeding my excitement. Where is the fear? Where is the guilt? Why do I find enjoyment from inflicting emotional pain to her? These questions I just cannot answer, but she makes it clear that I'm going to pay the price by positioning the bat towards my vital organ below my waist.

"I'm sick of it," she spits out, her voice shaking with rage. With clenched fists, she raises the weapon and slams it against me.

******************************************************************************************

We were sitting down in my bed. She was wearing a white summer dress and her hair fell down in curly caramel waves, touching her bare shoulders. She tucked a strand of her hair shyly behind her head and gazed up at me coyly while her cheeks glowed pink. Her legs were tanned, capturing the sun's kiss perfectly from my bedroom window. I felt a strong desire to run my hand through her lovely, long legs, but I stopped myself.

Instead, I looked at her carefully and asked her, "What is love?"

"Love is pain. Love is beautiful. Love is what you and I have together," she whispered, as she nestled close to me and rested her head against my shoulder. She said a lot of things that I easily forgot, but it was those specific words from her that would haunt me for as long as I lived.


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