SERAPHIC BLISS

5. Taking Back Control

~a memory~

"So...you really think I'm innocent?"

"Yes, yes I do"

"Even when my family is basically the Russian mob?"

Thomas intertwines his fingers with her, as they walk into the moon-lit street. The clouds were darker than usual and light thunders were heard above. "Yes, as a matter of fact. I do. Because even the ugliest flowers, can rapture into a beautiful hybrid. Isn't that right? Flower girl?"

She blushes under the dimply lit street, and smiles. "You know I hate that name right?"

"I do" He laughs, squeezing her palm. And stops walking. She gazes at him questioningly. He smiles and turns to her, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear. Soon there is a thunder heard above, they book look up and laugh a little. Pressing his forehead on hers, he smiles. "I do, my flower girl" and presses a kiss on her temple.

And almost immediately, there is a small patter against the roofs of the cars parked on the ends of street in front of the most lavishly made mansion. As she bursts into laughter, he looks at her in hooded adoration.

"Well that seems to be my calling Hudson. Unless you want to have my head on a platter. And don't forget the dinner tomorrow okay? " she kisses his cheek.

She walks towards her house, as the gates automatically open. Just as she was about to step in -

"Elizabeth Cushing!"

She turns.

"I love you "

She smiles. And replies with a flying kiss. He being dramatic pretends to catch it. Only to earn a laugh from her as she walks into her house.

He sighs waiting till she is inside. And as soon as the door of the mansion gates closes he turns around.

Hearing the familiar sound of his phone going off he picks it up"Hey baby girl. Im sorry I was just caught up with some intrusion. stay where you are. I'll be coming soon. Oh and get rid of all the...restrictions between us. There won't be much talking."

And that is how a con , disappeared in the proclaimed rains of ardour. Was it always this easy to fake ? to break the broken ?

The answer lies to the lover who hums the tunes of passion , brushing the knots in her blond locks unaware of the fact that her man was on top of another women.

Well....she was never going to get over him , was she?

Just like an art enthusiastic looks at a painting , we look at these perfect couples. Everything about them , the hair , their outstretched lips as they share a strawberry milkshake , their meet ups with their 'oh so perfect' friends , the way the hold each others hand on the street.

All we see is the front.

And as the old saying goes , never judge a book by its cover.

But do we ever ?

No

Because its a twig we cant break . And hence leads forth the great anatomy of 'It is what it is'.

And up above the floors of the lavish mansion , laid a girl with properly brushed blond hair and in a off white night gown , with the copy of her Anna Karenina , falling in love with the words of Leo Tolstoy.

And beneath was her 'lover' , in some dusky motel room making love to ( rather casually fucking) another girl .

Pain is the only course to power. The worse the pain , the more prevailing is the power.