Captive

Captive

I walk down the hall like a young child lost at the carnival, staring helplessly at all the foreign faces. There are many I see, some strange, some beautiful, but there is just one that I hunger to meet. As I try to appear casual, strolling in a fit with the need for you, I only feel more and more awkward and lost with every person I pass that isn't you.

Abruptly, I come to a complete stop, hearing the annoyed "tsk" of people that were forced to detour around the sudden roadblock. I can't tell you how I know that you are behind me, but I instantly know that it is you, I can feel your beautiful intense eyes burning holes into the back of my head.

I don't want to turn around. You don't deserve it, after what you did, what you said, how you hurt me. More than that, I am afraid. If I turn and look into those eyes of yours, I am afraid of what I may see in them. Malice? Hatred? Pride at wounding me? All without a trace of regret. More than anything, I am afraid that it matters not what I will find, as long as I find you.

I put every ounce of strength that I have to willing my legs not to turn and face you, but it does no good, it never has. Even before I open them, I can feel your twin orbs of silver-blue ice meet mine. Once I open my eyes, I know that it will be over and I will have lost. Taking a deep breath, I bravely yield to you.

You look neither pleased or surprised to see what you know is my surrender. You simply motion for me to follow you out of this hallway and into a nearly deserted one leading off from it. I obediently acquiesce and go to you. You walk down the hall, not even holding out your hand to lead me. Apparently, I don't deserve it.

When we have walked far enough away from the crowd, you turn around quickly, pinning me against the wall with your gaze. I now see all of those emotions that I expected. I gasp in shock and fear at the threatening look you give me, your face betraying nothing, but your eyes speaking volumes. In that moment, I cannot look at you, for you are too angrily beautiful to bear.

As I begin to look away, your hand shoots up and clenches shut on my jaw and gently, almost sweetly straightens my head to look at you again. Before I can even breathe, you bring your lips to mine. Oh, this is the most torturous form of punishment. You whip and beat me with your mouth. I can feel everything that you don't need to say.

Every time, and there are many, that you kiss me this way, I can feel a little piece of me breaking off and floating into the wind. Does this sadden me because I am slowly but surely losing myself, or make me happy, because at least some part of me is being set free from the prison you put me in?

Maybe that is what you are trying to do, free me. Maybe you see what the others cannot, what they will not. Maybe you are the only one that really cares for me. Perhaps I am being held in a cage, and you are the one who is setting me free. Yes. You are my savior, my protector, my hero. You do for me what I cannot do for myself, what I do not have the strength to do.

With each caress, each flick of your tongue, every nip of your teeth, you scold me for my transgressions. I will never do it again, I swear. I cannot remember what it was that I did this time, but I vow that I will never do it again. I am sorry, I am so very sorry. Please forgive me.

At the height of my confession, you pull away from me abruptly. It is such a sudden, harsh movement, that I fear that you will reject my apology. You look so deeply into my scared face that I feel you can see me, standing completely bare before you. Just as I am about to open my mouth to beg for your forgiveness, your icy countenance breaks into a warm, satisfied smile.

Another piece of me crumbles and is taken away by the cold wind that seems to be emanating from your eyes. Perhaps, someday, you will free me completely.