Dancing With The Devil

Chapter 1

When I was six I was 'in love' with a boy called Dalton Mahony . We went to school together , went to the park together , lay down under the stars together. That was, until our parents made us come inside before we got sick from the cold. But from the days of laying under the stars together I asked him.

'Do you love me Dalton?' 

And his reply was ' Maybe, I'm not sure. But I love you like I love my baths and my warm milk, so yes I guess I do'  

At that age I felt like a princess. We then held hands everyday for a week . Dalton didn't realise that being my ' boyfriend ' would mean he had to share his cookies , his toys and lastly his warm milk and decided it was to much for a six year old boy to handle and that his milk and cookies were too good to share. So he asked if we could just be friends but still hold my hand under the stars until our mothers came and insisted we say goodbye.

At the ripe age of sixteen I was just blossoming into the girl I thought I wanted to be, buying the crop tops and the skirt that would make me feel pretty in hope it will grab a guys attention.

Looking back now they were the worst fashion choices I could have possibly made, but luckily it paid off when I met someone who didn't mind the bad choice of clothing, Logan Smith. We went out for 1 year, 8 months, 2 days, 12 hours and 47 minutes to be exact. Yes, we were that couple. Logan was your typical sweetheart, always told me I looked beautiful and would kiss my tears away when I was upset.

But then one day, he didn't hold my hand as tight , he would let's his fingers slip through the gaps in mine and carelessly let it drop to the ground to be walked on by anyone in our paths , his hugs were always just that bit too short , not tight enough and never that feeling of security that I longed for as a teenage girl. Logan moved away when his dad got promoted leaving a seventeen year old me with a cold body from those lost hugs and a bruised hand from the people that have wandered between the gaps of our fingers.

I thought that was the end of me, that I would never be whole again because I didn't have a mans touch or that kiss or hand to hold till my knuckles turned white with nothing but pure love and dedication to blame for it all.

Now at 23 years old I was living the life of everyone else. Spending my time finding myself and trying to stop depending on the arms of someone else or the feel of another's lips . To have me myself and I and realise that's all I really need.

But trying to do this isn't as easy as it should be, especially with a neighbour that constantly drag your attention away with every smile or stare that makes its way in your direction.

But what if this person shouldn't catch your attention, Is so different from everyone else that managed to make your heart skip a beat. what if this person is troubled, psychotic some may say, but when your breath catches and your heart skips a beat just from a single glance. Maybe everything you ever believed in would slip through your fingers and fall to the floor like a silk blanket, waiting to be picked up all because of a twisted love.

*****

-Eleanors POV-

Walking down the cold streets of London on a Saturday morning was not my idea of fun, well I don't think it was anybody's but I needed to go to work if I was to pay my rent on my small house, yet in an odd way I kind of loved it . I made my way to the small coffee shop on the corner Oxford street. I held my jacket closer to me trying to make me feel a little warmer as the blistering London air whipped past me making my hair fly in every direction and my breath catch in my throat .

I made it to the little red coffee shop, it was nothing special , believe me but The Spotty Teacup made me feel at ease. I opened the door, hearing the familiar ding of the bell as I walked in.