Davis decided of the date of our wedding: A simple wedding, with few guests, and a honeymoon at the cottage.
The more the date advanced, the more I thought of Malik. I couldn't choose... I loved them both, I wasn’t ready for marriage, but time was running fast.
So there was the wedding, Malik being the man of honor, and Davis my husband.
There were a lot of flowers, all white, just like the arrangement on the hotel, it was really classic. And I was wearing a white, syrene-type dress that Davis had chosen for me. In fact, it was his dream wedding. I loved it yes, I love it. But I couldn't feel as much as he did this almost unhealthy infatuation he had for me, like an obsession, a threshold of love that I couldn't cross.
The ceremonie went one, with a poem from Davis:
-I love you as one loves certain darker things, the way flames love to warm your hands. And I won't give up anything for you, and I won't accept anything in return, neither black diamonds, nor all the flames of hell, even if I freeze to death. I will die for you. Today, I love you as if you were part of me, you who will now bear my name. You are my heroin, a victory that will never end, in life, in death, in eternity…
As the poem was going on, a tear was rolling on the Malik cheeks, and both Davis and I had a special theory for it. A tear of emotion, certainly, but not the one that a man of honor should have.
We were getting very close, until the inevitable: we started making love to each other.
I got pregnant of Malik, while I was married to Davis. I told it to Malik right away. We had to tell him, but not now.
Davis got caught... I was visiting Davis as much as possible in jail, so he will see my bump one day. Today was the day.
I was waiting until he arrive. Strangely, there was nobody today, like they knew theire will be shattered window.
I will burn if I stay here. There is no one left in the other cabins, how is this possible? As if they had my secret. He was the one who had secrets…
I made myself beautiful for you, as for him, how could I confess to him. Sitting and pitiful, my head lowered, I seemed to be praying. A Machiavellian orchestra clapping hands in his head. "He's going to kill you."
Alone, I will go to hell. How dare they?
Then appears the angel of his dream in his thoughts. She should have chosen, and like the night of the abduction, she couldn't. Why did god create these twins, if only to trap me, who, in another life, only painted and danced…
Alone, I will go to hell.
I had become angry, but although I calmed down by praying, it started again as soon as I thought back to the event. Nothing could calm me down like my brother's words, but not in these circumstances… He who was too close to my girlfriend, the brother I loved to hate, whom I had thought would meet the same fate as Abel, joining me without too much trouble to Abel's version.
However, I understood him without wanting to understand him. She was charming, but more treacherous than he. It was her fault.
Anger makes you blind, but I saw clearly, I was gripped with a cold anger that only Lilly could quell, in the end.
I decided to go to the parlor and forgive her. Who would attack a pregnant woman?
The baby, I preferred not to think about him. I still had principles.
But my anger had not subsided as much as expected when I saw her with her head down. Was she thinking about him more than telling me the truth?
He entered the room in front of me, intrigued and angry to see me so disturbed. Maybe he knews… Maybe Malik told him.
Just looking at his face, I felt a terrible cramp in my stomach. was the baby trying to run away? I ran to the toilet. I lost the baby. I couldn't tell him, the visit was over.
I couldn't help but think that his gaze had killed the baby.
Anger sometimes has a force, energetical, almost supernatural, and invisible, which, in a moment of intoxication, can ravage a life in a moment of madness, even extinguish it…
Malik couldnot help. I wanted to see nobody.
Something is broke inside me. I get lost in my mind.
I heard a sheet get torn. I saw it twirl in the wind, in two very distinct pieces. And they went to the wind, in two opposite directions. Why was it winding so hard? I felt my feet lift. It was love. Or was it the ground that had creaked?
I had heard something torn, like paper. I can not choose. I could not choose. Is it that wrong? Was it only wrong?
I let the paper twirl in the wind. I walk in the perpendicular direction. What's the point of chasing the papers?
I arrive in front of a bridge, but I am afraid to cross it. What is that? It can't be both pieces of paper on the other side.
The bridge rocks. I knew the earth had cracked.
I am not in front of a bridge, but alone in front of this white canvas.
And I will paint, something broken. Something is broken. My heart. I don't want it.
I just want to avoid the bridge that will break. Will I return to the land of war, where everything is broken? Or survive where only my heart is… Was it a heartbroken baby?
I can't paint, I broke the brush against the canvas
I needs to let you go, precious and candide heartbroken part of me...