Clearly Meant to Be.
It was there I saw him first. He was sitting, by himself, sipping his coffee. His black hair fell over his eyes, hiding them. He gazed intently at the newspaper situated in front of him. A few tattoos were scattered over his arms, but the shirts he wore hid most of them. However, there was something about his the way he sat that scared me. The stiffness seemed as if he'd pull out a gun or knife or something any second.
I was reading Wuthering Heights that day, one of my favorites. I was standing up, putting the book in my satchel; ready to leave, when my cell phone rang. Startling me, the bag dropped from my hands. It had been my mom, asking if I could come over for dinner that night.
When I reached down for that bag, only to realize someone was holding it in front of me. In his hands. I looked up at him; his black hair was disarrayed and messy, giving it the 'bed head' feel. His face was angular and firm, he clearly lost his baby fat. But his eyes. His eyes were deadly; they were a cerulean blue. So clear, it was mysterious, something was carefully hidden behind those wonderfully dangerous eyes.
I muttered a thanks to him.
He had only replied with a "No prob. I'm Dillon"
"Emily." I had said while shaking his hand.
I saw him there again, but this time I sat by him. Wanting to know more about him, and that mysterious aura that always surrounded him.
Sipping our coffees, we spoke of everything; from history to books, politics to movies. It was amazingly easy to confide everything to him. My family problems, advice, he was there for me.
This blossoming friendship was growing to be much more.
Our feelings were becoming unearthed, and finally we decided to go on a date. I remember getting dressed that day; it took me longer than usual, trying to look my best.
I had worn an off the shoulders black top with blue skinny jeans. My auburn colored hair was up in a messy bun.
He told me I looked ravishing, as he took my hand.
We loved each other, that was clear; crystal clear. It was utmost true and sincere love, I realized then that we had to be together; he had thought so to.
We had become infatuated with each other, no, obsessed is more like it. We were inseparables. Clearly meant to be.
The last time I saw him was behind bars.
He told me he was a writer, a struggling writer.
In reality, he was a drug dealer.
Part of a gang.
I guess if I paid less attention to what was inside of him and looked at his physical appearance. I would have noticed the cuts and bruises, the funny smell that sometimes surrounded his body.
But there was nothing, not a hint, telling me that he was a murderer.
However, he could not of been a liar.
It was clear he was trying to change. For me.
He did truly love me.
But you could only lead the horse to water. It was not his sort of lifestyle.
I was furious at him, keeping such a dark secret from me. His fiancée.
But it was only later that I had realized that it was clear that I would not have been able to live with out him. He is my soul. He is the air in which I breathe. He is my sun.
It is still dark outside, but you can see the sun peeking out. He is to die today.
The concrete slabs around me look sinister as I step on to them.
I quote to myself, wishing that he could hear it, "If all else perished, and he remained, I should still continue to be; and if all else remained, and he were annihilated, the Universe would turn into a mighty stranger."
I am high above the ground.
As I spread my arms and take the leap, I murmur to the wind, "I love you."
The quote "If all else…" is from Wuthering Heights.
Thanks for reading and please, please review!