The Forbidden Villain

Chapter 1

CHAPTER ONE

“Good and evil are in the eye of the beholder.

Or so they say.

Either way…evilness has way more space for all my vices.

And for a psychopath like me?

That’s heaven on Earth.”

Him

Him

Stalking is an art form rooted in our deepest desire to possess the object of our obsession.

Wicked, vile desire that consumes our souls and only the few of us who have soaked in darkness a long time ago…answers the lurking call and thrives in it, as guilt and consciousness are a foreign concept to the likes of us.

After all, we are selfish and have no compassion toward those who stand in our way.

Crossing my arms, I zero in on the woman on the beach a few feet away, slipping off her shoes and curling her toes in the sand. She takes a deep breath, and a soft smile curves her plump lips as she welcomes the breeze skirting over her, billowing her yellow dress backward.

If humankind needed a physical representation of a mesmerizing beauty hidden behind agony and pain, wrapped in chaos and suffering, with the power to drive anyone permanently insane…they’d have to look at her.

A gorgeous siren destined to lure the men to their doom, promising salvation while bringing nothing but damnation.

For her beauty is a mask, an illusion that she could have used as a weapon.

Instead, it’s a blade she allows to stab into her, somehow finding pleasure in pain, and that’s an attraction I could have never resisted.

She speaks to the rotten and heinous part in me, craving blood and gore, thriving in the destruction it brings, and temporarily numbing the screams in my head that become louder and louder as time passes.

With that, the desires that should be forbidden grow in me and somehow bring me freedom.

When one resides in hell for a long time, and an angel falls down into their abyss, seeming like a gift from heaven, they should be careful. It’s probably a poison that would be deadly to them.

An elderly couple approaches her, holding out a camera, and a woman asks, “Excuse me, dear, could you please take our picture?”

Her long blonde hair, falling down her slender back in heavy waves, sways when she looks at them, drawing attention to its silkiness and smoothness, shining under the bright sun. Its gorgeousness only emphasizes her clear porcelain skin and perfectly carved profile.

Sculptors in ancient Greece would have begged her to pose for them, as her symmetry adds charm to her irresistible beauty.

“Of course,” she replies, her soft and inviting voice akin to a lullaby promising reprieve from the all-consuming rage constantly living inside me. “What kind of picture do you want?”

The couple beams with joy, only to freeze when she fully turns to face them, and they take a step back, the woman gasping, and Lavender stills.

One side of her face is flawless, while the other holds a deep scar on her right cheek as if someone had put their knife to it, then dusted salt on the wound so she would never forget the pain of it.

Along with burn scars marring her neck and trailing to her collarbone, and a few more hidden beneath the yellow cloth.

Her body is a cruel artwork that a madman once used as a canvas.

And if I could go to hell and retrieve his soul so I could punish and kill it once again, I would.

“Oh my God,” the woman exclaims, and wariness, along with hurt, glazes over Lavender’s emerald-green eyes so vivid one might stare at them for hours.

I tried searching for the perfect shade to match them, yet failed to find it, which only increased my need for their sole attention.

As they tend to avoid mine.

She quickly masks it with indifference and pulls at her hair, covering her cheek and forcing an even wider smile on her mouth that I wish to destroy as rage slowly glides through my veins, ready to crush whatever or whoever upset her.

Because her scars aren’t hideous to me, no.

They call to the ruthless side of me, wishing to touch them.

Imperfections have a certain sensual energy that attracts the vilest of creatures, and unfortunately, said creatures aren’t known to restrain themselves.

Besides…

Where would the fun in that be anyway?

“Do you still want your picture?” she asks the couple, her tone more hostile this time as she straightens up.

My focus shifts to her curvy body designed for my pleasure only as she whirls underneath me.

I’ll torture her for hours until her flesh is covered in my marks of ownership, showing everyone she belongs to me.

“No, I think we’re good. Thank you.” The woman grabs her husband, forcefully dragging him away, while Lavender casts her gaze down, touching her cheek, and her eyes glisten a little.

“She could have at least put on some makeup. It isn’t Halloween to scare people off like that.

” The woman doesn’t even try to be quiet, and I memorize everything about these people so they can pay for this unforgivable insult later.

You do not hurt what belongs to me without the consequences because no one but me has the right to tarnish her soul.

I’m her sole tormentor.

Lavender’s hands fist for a second only to relax as she shakes her head, leans forward to pick up her sandals, and goes farther toward the shore until she drops on the wet sand, letting the water soak up her dress and legs as the waves crash into her.

She wraps her arms around her knees, resting her chin on top of them, and sighs again while staring at the yacht. Seagulls squeak soundly in the sky, circling the beach in hopes of easy prey.

How foolish they are. There is no such thing as easy prey, for if it’s easy…why waste your time with it?

A true predator always loves a challenge.

And the gods know she’s mine.

Taking out the cigarette from my back pocket, I put it in my mouth and open up the lighter, briefly glancing at the flaring flame.

The orange and blue colors pull me toward endless kaleidoscopes playing in my mind, each image more horrific than the other.

I can almost physically smell the scent of rotten flesh.

Exhaling the smoke, I look through it at Lavender as I flip the lighter through my fingers and wonder about her rather tragic existence thus far.

A flower that didn’t get the chance to bloom due to hungry, monstrous people surrounding her, intending to squash her beneath their malicious deeds, but somehow, she prevailed.

Staying an innocent creature in this cruel and unforgiving world of ours.

And this resilience speaks to the part of me that’s both curious and vicious, craving to put her through unimaginable things and see how well she can withstand them.

How well can she deal with a true monster who feeds on her fear and desires to possess her?

It’s time to bring my two favorite colors into her life, red and black.

My darkness has no mercy, and it’s filled with blood that forever smears you in dirt that one might never escape or accept.

She will have no choice, though, because her destiny was decided for her the minute our eyes collided during that dinner party.

She will be mine.

Willing or not.