Victim of Circumstance | UNDER RIGOROUS EDITING

Epilogue - The Morning After & The Night Before

||Pius||

EIGHT MONTHS LATER!

Once upon a time there was boy who was callous in everything he did. He didn't believe in emotional involvement. For him, relationships were nonexistent. He was an ardent believer of steamy hump-pump with no emotional attachment. He was loved, wanted and admired. And he thrived in all the attention. He knew the potency of his looks. What he could make happen with just a single wink. His second name was arrogant and his best friend dick. He did whatever he felt like doing so long as it benefitted him, no matter who paid the price for his actions. Some of these things were not of public knowledge. Yes, he was a douchebag but all everyone could see was an overpoweringly attractive young man. And did he love it all.

Something that wasn't of public knowledge was his choleric dislike of people of skin. Black people to be specific. He was a raised and groomed racist. He was made believe that people of color—black people—were a human disgrace. That he'd to avoid them at all cost like a plague. But he met a girl. A girl of skin color. A black gorgeous, curvaceous African beauty. She was perfect in all the ways he didn't want her to be. She defied all odds stacked up against her and her compatriots. She was his girl. That was one fact he knew from the onset. But she was black. And black people according to the woman that raised him were not meant to be at the same level with their opposites—whites. He was emotionally, physically and spiritually perplexed.

He did numerous gory unmentionables to break her. To dehumanize her in such a way that she knew she belonged at the bottom. He did all he could to show her he was superior. Or more white supremacy. He managed to destroy, demoralize and demean her. But instead of finding the peace in everything he did, the very reason for which all that happened never changed. In fact, if anything, it grew stronger and stronger. He wanted what he couldn't have. He blamed her for every bad thing that ever happened in his life. And how wrong he was.

For years he thought he was winning. That seeing her at his mercy was his most prized accolade. But how gravely mistaken he was. Because he was the one at her mercy. All he did, he did out of cowardice, fear, insecurity and hurt. Hurt for wanting what he couldn't have. He loved her and that was like a bullet wound. Excruciating. Bleeding. Exhausting. And deadening. All these things were not of public knowledge. They were internal demons he'd been fighting for a lot of years. Demons he'd to slay and bury once and for all, because once he did, he would have the things he ever wanted. Peace. Happiness. Love. Fulfilment. Meaning. And Reason.

Eight months ago he thought—believed he loved her. But eight months later he realized that it wasn't it. Because eight months later he felt what it meant to be loved and love another.

She is his everything and she's leaving him today.

She is my everything and she is leaving me today.

I've been preparing myself for this day for eight months but no amount of preparation will make the pain any less what it is. Painful. All sentimental shit aside, lemme savor the moment and keep it to memory because its all-time I have left.

"You're thinking too hard." She murmurs close my face.

I can feel her hot breathes against my face. I pull her closer to me, wrapping my arms around her naked waist.

"Why would you think that?" I ask her smiling softly with my head on her voluptuous chest.

"You've that frown thing on your forehead." She says ironing out the crease. "What were you thinking about?"

"I don't know. Probably how much I love you." I say and flip us over with her on top of me. Her voice burst into a string of giggles that's like angels singing to my ears. "Are you okay?"