Page 142 of Eyes Like Angel
She’s adorable, too adorable for this awful world, this awful life she’s in.
Or the life that someone has set her in, to be erased and forced to live in shame for normalcy, a monster would do this. I’m planning to find out who has done this to my darling angelic Eva.
I don’t think I could ever let her go. Not in a million years.
She’s becoming a part of me I couldn’t bear to erase.
She’s in my arms, and the wounded angel is kept safe from world’s harm and danger, away from reality, away from prying eyes and ears, away from the scenarios she feared, possibly more to this compared to what she simplified.
She’s my Genesis, and I’m her Revelation.
I’m the beast casted and brought from hell, ready to kill and kill and kill until their bodies become numb and cold.
“Go to sleep,” I purred, slithering her backside with a flat palm. “Our journey has just begun.”
She nestled into my embrace.
“This feels nice…the bed, the blankets. My soul and body haven’t felt so good…for a long time,” she said in a broken whisper and lulled her eyes to sleep.
Nestled, Eva’s eyelids close, lulled herself, snuggling up to my scorching frame, diving into a deep slumber, her head nestled to my beating chest.
Not long after, I fell asleep alongside, after pressing my lips to hers one more time. I didn’t want to forget her lips and the haunting gaze—I’m addicted, electrified by the course of our destiny, a destiny where we met and had our worlds collided, and I had no objections to this fate has been given to me. This cycling mess will be endless, near or far from Eva, and I don’t mind this cycle to be repeated, as long as I have her in my arms. My own perfect doll to cherish and provided for.
An angel born and trapped in a gilded cage, desired to be set free and never return. Somehow, she has this sentiment for awhile. She’d hope somebody to see her and understand behind a broken mask she’s been concealing.
Caged in her life, caged her intentions—pure intentions to brightened and flourish but people surround her never seized a chance of getting to know her, therealher.
This control I caged and balanced in, I doubt it’d stay longer. The longer someone keeps me locked in, the more yearning tugged and struggled ten times harder than last.
But right now, an angel’s recovering must be nursed and upkeep her sanity intact.
Wits are the key to survival, the essential to uprising against anyone who wronged me, who wronged my beloved angel.
I’m not bothered if I get wounded; my bloodlust has been my friend, my valuable ally to any obstacle blocking in my way.
As long as she’s in arms, she’ll be unharmed.
What does it say in the Bible? I think it goes something like, “You will trample down fierce lions and poisonous snakes, fierce lions and poisonous snakes, I will save those who love me, and will acknowledge me as Lord.”
Eva acknowledged me; I saved and protected her.
We both did our part, but I don’t mind doing all the work.
Her integrity, her innocence, her value in obligations and her emerald eyes, they’re all mine. She’s all mine. My lips pressed onto the bracelet I gave her, along with a silver bracelet with green gemstone clinging onto her right wrist, lifting it to me, pressing my puckered kisses on her scar-burnt hand.
Despite the mystery circulated around Eva, she’s mine.
Everything she knows that she kept from everyone—her secrets, her mind, the lack of her backstory, it’s all mine, and once I find it, I’ll keep her origins with me to the grave.
Heart rate sped up when my fingers clutched her dainty form.
In my whole life, I quoted this, to keep me sane, to keep me going forward, to remain my sanity:
Heroes are the villains in a monster’s story.
But sometimes nature of evil is born.
Life must deal evil with evil.
