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I hear steps behind me and my heart begins to beat faster.
It can only be my beloved. I'd recognise these footsteps anywhere.
I feel myself salivating as my entire body aches with anticipation. I don't want to turn around, ruin the surprise, ruin the moment she touches my body, wraps arms around my waist. I feel warmth spread inside my veins, my heart seems to be pumping dopamine into all my organs, even though I know it's not physically possible.
She whispers intoo my ear from behind. My senses are so clouded by pleasure and happiness that I can't make out a word of what she's saying. That doesn't matter, though, for everything she says is beautiful, every word dripping with meaning and passion, so her message is clear from impression alone.
Her voice is so gentle when she speaks to me, her touch so tender. I know I'm the only one she treats like this, and that fills me with pride. I'm the one she chose, the one designated to be hers. It's so delightful that I can't help salivating more, rolling my bloodshot eyes back to glance at her. Having her so close feels so wonderful, so rewarding.
Her moronic classmates really don't appreciate her greatness. It's infuriating. Her plan for them is too good for them, but I wouldn't dare question her methods.
They don't deserve to live or die by her hand. Nobody does. They're not worthy of her attention at all. Even I am not!
She presses a kiss against the nape of my neck, and I begin to squeal like a pig in labour. How embarrassing! I shut my mouth and cover it, muttering apologies. She strokes my head and whispers something. Again, I can't make out words, but I know she's not mad or disgusted. She lets go of my waist, and I gasp, dropping to my knees in front of her, bowing my head in apology. I ask her to forgive me.
She laughs and I look up. She's stroking my head again, with a crooked smile on her face. She's reassuring me, I can tell. I'm so glad I was forgiven. I laugh disgustingly, leaning into her hand as i strokes my cheek and temple, the long blood-red nails scratching against my skin. It doesn't hurt, and even if it did, I wouldn't complain. That's what a lewd pig like me deserves, after all. My beloved is too kind to me, and I don't deserve my luck, I don't deserve her, I don't deserve any piece of her, any touch, any attention.
Tears of happiness roll down my cheek as I choke on my saliva and gratitude. I must look hideous, but she doesn't stop stroking me. I can't see her clearly anymore, but that's fine. I'm fine as long as I know she's there, as long as she's alive to begin with.
She makes no effort to make me stop crying. That's so mindful! It's common knowledge that it's best to let people cry everything out in order to lower the pressure! I can't believe how kind she is to me, and it makes more tears pour out quickly, an uninterrupted stream running down my ugly face, leaking onto my lips and into my mouth, mixing a salty flavour into my saliva. I'm getting more hideous by the minute.
She cups my chin and gently brings it up, forcing me to look at her. Through the tears on my eyelashes, it seems like there's a halo around her head. I feel as if it's always there, because of how good she is to me. She helps me get up from the floor, pulling my limp body up by my chin. She looks at me closely, squinting her eyes. The crooked smile never left her lips.
I can hear she's asking me a question. I begin shaking, since I failed to hear it. She tilts her head, waiting for an answer. I admit I didn't hear, covering my head, ready to be hit. She doesn't lift her hand, though, she doesn't move at all in fact. I stop covering my head, looking at her with anticipation. I feel unworthy of looking into her eyes, but she cups my cheeks and brings my face up to hers. Our eyes meet, and now I can't look away. The vast blueness of her eyes hypnotizes me, making me feel like I entered a void, a black void where only she and I exist, only she and I matter.
I hear her question clearly in my mind, now, as if she spoke it directly into my brain – I'm not even sure if her lips moved at all, her eyes speaking directly into my soul, asking a simple question – if I'm going to follow her and carry on her will, until the day I die.
My entire body convulses violently, as the voice of my soul echoes throughout the void – yes, yes, I swear I will follow you forever! There's nothing I want more! My hands desperately grasp at my chest, as if to stop my heart from leaping out of it.
Then, the void closes around me as she leans forward and kisses me, so tenderly and yet so passionately. I lean into the kiss, like I need it to survive, more than air – and at that moment, I do, by god I do! It must me the kiss of life!
The void is now embracing me as I feel her hands slowly unbuttoning my shirt, her hips framing mine closely, making my body burn inside once more, desperately and unbearably this time.
Truthfully, in that moment I realise, it's not a void. It's a love bubble, closing around our entangled bodies, protecting our love from the filthy, unworthy world around us.