A story of the past, of fleeting moments of pleasure found in the occasional lapses of judgment and self-control. Of the gratification the flesh found in the absence of the mind. A story of the veiled heart that whispered to the other one, the weaker one. Of how the lost girl found shelter and solace in the shadows, none the wiser that she was beneath the cloak of Darkness itself.

Tell me that story, in all of its lurid glory. Then allow me to shed a little tear.

At her naïvety. At her flagrant disregard for all the tell-tale signs that she should have picked up, in light of what had transpired. At her stubborness to even open her eyes and see. At her ambivalence as she denies the gravitas of the situation. And at her defiance that she swings at the attempts on the part of others to vilify that person, when it is evidently to the contrary.

As the chain of events was haltingly relayed in an excruciating length of a night, the gravity of the past set in and unveiled the flippantness on which each piece of fact was delivered on, to lay bare the ignorance she chose to uphold. Despite the contrary that even she saw and acknowledged. As I was made aware of what has happened, the little shards of belief which she has so doggedly employed in her argument to the case began falling one by one.

A house of cards built on air.

Does she not see the obvious? Does she not see that she was a mere conquest, a fucking line chalked on the wall? Did she really think that all he wanted to remain as was a friend? Was she not aware at all, such that she would have thought the better than to still bequeath truth when she once trod misguided on the path he has lain? So much so that she did so not once but twice, when in the first occurance he has already given away the game. Where is her common sense, much less her decency?

Tell me the story again, storyteller. So that this time, I can coax the lost girl out of the false security of the seemingly peaceful epilogue of her story. Because I have something to say to her:

To him, you are just a fuck that has not happened yet.

You… fool.