Sta.sh
When you were younger, probably fifteen, sixteen years old, your family took the only holiday you can recall, to D'Entrecasteaux.
It was real pretty. You'll never forget the way the way the sun rose over the water. Your parents took photos, but you barely looked at them.
What use is a sunrise in black and white, when even colour couldn't do it justice?
But that simple question, that was all your life was, a rainbow in black and white. How come no one ever saw the explosive colour beneath your silence?
The dreams beneath the apathy.
The hope beneath the pessimism.
The answer: Ice.
You grew cold, and bitter. But you were good at hiding emotions, and you spent your life pretending.
You were obsessed with perfection, and all things foreign, or exotic.
That's why you married the girl you did. And then, why you destroyed her.
Because you couldn't stick with one woman, and she was too insecure. Too weak for your tastes, you realised then, but it was too late, and you had to keep her around. Made you seem more, bad, in an interesting, almost mysterious kind of way. You were charming, in a perverted, sleazy way, and there are women who like that.
Why you kept your daughter around, even though you didn't really love her. She was fun to look at, someone with whom you could play dress up, someone with whom you could, for lack of a better expression, screw around. Then again, perhaps that is the perfect expression.
She adored you, though. Did everything you asked. With you, she was the perfect slave. It was you who taught her about BDSM, without needing to lay a finger on her. Although that's not to say you didn't.
You went too far, and you stopped being her Daddy. You control her, still, and she continues to adore you.
But you'll regret everything, soon.
Remember that holiday, the one I was talking about before? With the black and white photos, hiding the beauty underneath?
It will be a piece of artwork, your death, perfect in every way, just to satisfy your perverted obsession. But no one will see the beauty.
It will be a secret, a message no one will ever understand.
That, you sadomasochistic, disgusting, adulterous, perverted, selfish, sleazy son of a bitch excuse for a man,
that, is how you are going to die.
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for the comment, and the
...please don't tell me this is a true story?
I thought that would be a nice touch, if I could link back to it at the end. Seems I did alright.
You're so lucky.