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This offered him an unfair advantage plus his intrepid motivation to kidnap the little slip of a girl. Preston guessed by the look of her, she had to be about fifteen. Her dark black mane of hair whipped over Sasha's shoulders as they sprinted across busy streets, through parking lots and over footbridges.He spotted an opportunity and in his desperation dove for her at the sudden curve of their path. She whined with both arms trapped at her side. Sasha's face was lying in the dirty trail and Preston knew nothing would stop him. "After all these weeks of waiting, you're all mine!". Her legs trembled weakly between his. "Please. Don't do this". She couldn't pull down the front of her dress which in the scuffle had ridden up, nor was she able to cry out for help. His weight on her back kept Sasha's lungs from breathing in much more than labored gasps."If you so much as scream, I will slit your throat. Do you understand me?". She whimpered sadly and nodded. It was then that he turned her. Static electricity, circumstance. Again, loneliness. But not that. Then I feel his touch once again and I lose myself, drowning in his soul, always just beneath the surface, giving over all that I can, breaking my heart again, all just to feel his magic, his heart, one more time. I dream of his possession, the freedom of belonging to this person. And I whisper to him, ‘You are all that I am not, all that I was lacking.’ And he smiles. Because what I lack, he contains. Where I am weak, he is not. A power for a weakness, a give for a take. In his eyes, I see the truth. I know that there is doom and pain ahead, and still I inch my body toward his, aching for that poison. Aligning myself with him, tipping my head to look into his eyes, indeed his very soul, laying my hand on his chest, I know I’ve found home. I haven’t the right. I want to step back, to leave this man, this poet, for someone else to find, but I cannot. He is there, his heart beating steady against my hand, and I am not.
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