Page 76 of Eyes Like Angel (Eyes Like Angel #1)

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 a while. 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, the real her.

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.

The bold ink on my arm scorched a reminder, hence why I got it as a tattoo, not to remember the words I forged, but to stay grounded, like Eva’s faith on God.

My words are faith, so does Eva’s, and I’d gladly follow her blindly.

The words lingered onto my skin are my personal prayers. I have no God. No God but me.

In our life, we are our own God and Devil, meshed into one, there was no denying it, and we had our own pureness and our own darkness to shed out for the world to witness.

From birth to death, from health to sickness, from beauty to ugliness within this trapped world, as long as the forbidden fruit lay onto my open palms, all it takes is one bite, to change the course and unseal our tears and have our purity consumed with the broken and the taint.

Eva is my forbidden fruit, and I altered the history between her and I, events unfold and how consequences arises and challenges to come, we fall and fail, but never meant for us to hit a landmark on permanently staying to where we failed.

World works in mysterious ways, but in some others, are defined by the darkness involved, a way to drive people mad and makes people second guess, minds spinning to insanity to a lack of distinction between real versus fake, and the skin of a friend, or a loved one, has worn off.

Rainbows and sunshine don’t exist, and my accomplishments on hurting and burying people’s existence were just a way for me to fight my path, to restore my sanity, to fulfill it—from those who wronged me, and wronged Eva.

People’s miscalculated movements were a way for me to relish the game I thrilled and thrived on.

The birth of darkness lingered, and I had to strike back, no matter what.

Enemies are made and born.

I had to fight evil with evil, so no one could hurt or disposed me again.

Kissing on Eva’s head, I looked at the bold ink laid upon my forearm. The bold ink glared back at me, a reminder remain shadowed, clouded me.

I must fight evil with evil.

No matter what.

Even if it means to hurt others, break others bones and spirit, and bleed others and shatter and quieted their cries to death, I must win and survival. After all, wits are essential—no God or Devil will provide me their special wisdom.

Only the nature in this world can be my weapon, my God.

Violence and fear and killings are my Gods, and I used them wisely.

Violence and fear has gotten me into this life so far. I won’t give in. To shatter and slice them, that is my power, my bloodlust. Bloodlust is my knife, my friend, and I show no mercy.

Goodbye, my enemies. It was a pleasure to hurt and cut you into pieces, for a sound of music has been played in my ears with your screaming voices and pleas drawn as your final breath.

The bodies were wasted and ruined, calling Saul on selling organs to the black market online and underground was no longer a valuable option; I desecrated their corpses and stuffed dirt and body bags shoved inside.

The lingering images of their rotting corpse brought my lips to a near smile.

Our little bubble in our own world is unscathed and sheltered, and I’m suffocated in happiness.

Happiness because of a tattered angel trapped and locked into my embrace.

I am unholy, tainted, and I’m no better than a demon spawn—unclean, tainted and broken into madness and rotten to a core.

As long as the dead bodies are disposed, decaying and watering blood into the earth’s ground, nobody would know, the dead keeps their secrets, and I keep mine.

The dead soon reincarnated into hideous plants and I flourished my way through tribulations, finding a heavenly light in a tunnel.

In the future, no one has to uncover the past. No one would have to know.

Not a living soul. Not even my family and friends.

Not the judge or the heathens. Not even God and the Devil itself.

The End