Blue Eyes

Blue Eyes

I know the moment I see her.

She is standing by the river, next to her father.  He guards her like a dog.  Tradition.  The rules.  She cannot be seen without him.  He is nothing to look at.

But she.

She has perfect ivory skin, white like snowdrops, flawed only by a pink tinge when she blushes.  Her brown ringlets fall to her shoulders, curling around her oval face.  Her body is erect, swelling slightly with feminine curves. 

I know from the first look that we would fit perfectly together, the right key, for the right padlock.  And her eyes.

Tender blue eyes I have seen somewhere before.  I’m not sure where.  I don’t know. But recognisable.  From someone...in the past...

I can imagine us together, I can see myself, holding her hands, at the altar.  I can make her my queen and I can be her God.  I can give her everything because she is everything to me.  She is my angel, she glows in the night, she hides heaven behind those tender blue eyes.  When I have married her, we shall be in heaven, she will be mine.  Forever.  Always.  Until the end of time.  I shall have her.  I shall win her.  I shall take her.

But.  What if she refuses me?  I cannot…cannot bear that.  What if she...grows bored of me?  What if she no longer wants—my money—my power—my status?  What is the point of being so high up in the army, killing so many men in the desert, if she just doesn’t want it?  What if she wants someone—else?  What if, what if I am no longer good enough for her?  What if those tender blue eyes…no longer approve of me?

I have to see her.  I shall go and see her.  She cannot, she cannot be trusted, in that house, on her own, when her father is absent…she can do anything!  I can just go, and see her, pretend it is for something trivial, a bunch of flowers, or something.

The flowers must be perfect.  I must pick the exact blue that matches those tender, blue eyes.  The stem must be perfectly straight. The leaves must be completely flat, like the blade of my sword—she’d better be at home.  What if—she isn’t?  I’ll just have to...have to...stay—calm.  I...won’t react.  Just knock, say hello, present flowers, wait for gratitude, then leave.

Those tender blue eyes are hiding something from—me.  I know—she wants to get out, wants to escape—but I shall not let her.  I storm past her—into the house—and I tell her.  I don’t want her to see anyone.  I shall—shut her up in her room and I shall keep her there—and I wont let ever let her out, and she will be mine.  Always.  Always mine. 

She shall never—ever—leave me.  Why would she want to leave?  She does not need contact, all she needs is me.  She is past her father’s protection. I can give her protection.  I can give her everything.  Everything those tender, blue, eyes could ever want.  I rip the flowers.  Head from stem.  Petals from petals.  I push her into the wall—I don’t mean to hurt her—I don’t want to—but she’s disobeying me—I can’t stand it—I can’t control myself. 

She is in my waking thoughts and she is the last thing I think about at night.  My sleep is restless, as I see her in the water, in the sky, she’s everywhere, those tender blue eyes.  I walk past her house, once, twice, maybe three times a day.  I follow her when she washes herself by the river, I follow her into the words, and I follow her to the cliff.  I demand to know what she has done every minute so I know that she still loves me.

How can she deny—me the—consummation of our love? Those tender, blue, eyes say she loves me.  I have—seen it—there, look, I know what I have seen—why would they lie?  Why—why lie to me?

She turns.  She looks.  At me.  Her tender, blue, eyes are hard.  My beauty.  Suddenly.  So ugly. 

“I don’t love you.”

My heart has been cut and I am bleeding.  I feel numb and I feel vacant, and the pit of my stomach has disappeared.  The emptiness is overpowering.  I pound my fist into my stomach, once, twice, maybe three times.  The bile, the bile rises and burns the back of my throat and my skin bites and itches, like it wants to tear away from my skeleton.  I hate myself, so I continue to punch, only when the vomit forces its way into my mouth, filling it with foul tasting sludge, does my mind clear.  As I collapse to my knees and retch into the green, damp grass, I can see the world suddenly so much more.

She must pay, and she must deal with the consequences of her actions, like the soldier who deserts.  She must feel the pain, my pain, so, I follow her, onto the cliff. She sees me and she runs but I am too quick for her, I must make her want me, she must never escape me.

I run.  I run with her—still, she tries to escape.  But I shall not.  Let her, escape.  In Heaven.  She will be.  Mine.  Forever.  And.  Always.  Until.  The end of.  Time.  Together.

One moment running.  The next.  Flying.  We are flying.  Towards.  Down.  To.  Infinity.  Flying towards infinity. 

For I.  I am.  I am her God.

And I.  I can.  I can make those.  Tender.  Blue.  Eyes.  Shine.  I can make those.  Tender blue eyes.  Shine.

And I can make us immortal.