Pounding Hearts. Quickening breaths. Two souls meeting at a crossroads One pulls away, attempting to flee The other rushes towards, grasping the victim into his embrace Dreams of this love never soared through her mind. His imagination played the tune of impulsion and sensual delight much more than her innocent spirit held the ability to conceive. Devouring anguish. Rebound made impossible by this reprehensible juncture. How? The innocent child wonders. This once unblemished body now holds nothing but contempt. The previous untainted mentality suddenly floods with contrition. Why? Love. He spoke of love, holding her hand, reassuring her of their eternal bond. He spoke of love, grasping her leg tightly as she shrunk away. He spoke of love, reminding her that no one else cared about her. He spoke of love, picking up a blade and drawing a line across his pale skin, only for her to watch. He spoke of love, pressing her face firmly against his genitals as she tried to turn away. He spoke of love, ripping her shorts as she cowered from his lustful hands. He spoke of love, holding a revolver to his head after she denied his request for intimacy. He spoke of love, and she believed him, as the bullet drove through her heart instead.