He was in pain and I could feel it. I held him to keep him warm and strong, he held on and look me in the eyes. It was an odd fuzzy feeling that washed over me when he looked at me but I couldn’t comprehend the feeling. My lack of understanding only worsened from thereafter.
He never let me complain about myself, he stood by me while I was a mess; it seemed like everything was falling into place. I was content, or so I thought.
The devil that I was lurked in the shadows of my mind. I pushed it away as far as I could. Every time I lost control of that little devil I reminded myself that I deserved this: the attention, the warmth and the love.
I clung on to him because I knew it was too good to be true and it only felt right when I was around him. I loved being liked, I enjoyed being taken care of although deep down I knew it wasn’t mine to take. The further I fell, the lesser I understood; the lesser I understood the easier it was to push the devil back.
My own little world was beginning to function and I was beginning to settle in it with a very unsettled devil.
As with every tale, my world fell apart not because of the devil but because of the truth. I was the Devil that took what wasn’t mine and I deserved to lose what I wanted to be mine. I became the Devil that haunted me and stole my sleep because the Devil always wants what she should not take.