Dancing With The Devil (A Short Story)

He was everything I never knew I wanted. He was charming and witty, he made me laugh and smile (and blush) like no other. He was captivating in every way. Fun to be around; daring, and exciting. The attraction was undeniable. The chemistry was explosive. The connection we had was nothing less than magical.  

He was everything I knew I shouldn’t want but everything my insecurities longed for. It was like the broken pieces of my soul believed he was the glue that would hold them back together. And there was this familiarity to him, a connection to my past that allowed me to see a version of myself I had believed was long gone. That familiarity, that longing to find that girl again, and that desire to chase the companionship and excitement he could provide, is what led me to take his hand and let him lead me out onto the dance floor. And when he took my hand, I felt it...that instant rush of every emotion, a sense of security, overwhelming passion, and a curiosity of what was to come...  
 
In the first room we danced in, the walls were colored with hope and promise. Promises of a bright and exciting future. Full of nothing but love and admiration. The space was filled with care, concern, appreciation, sweet words, compliments, love, affection, and nostalgia. And as we danced…he pulled me closer, pulling me in quickly and intensely. He came on strong, stronger than anyone before. And before I could recognize what was happening, let alone fight it, I fell…hard…And as he twirled me around and around, I believe I would have followed him straight to the gates of hell in a desperate need to hold on to that feeling forever.  
 
The next room he led me into was colored by adventure, exploration, and excitement. It was filled with good music, open roads, and seemingly endless laughter and smiles. There was an atmosphere of playfulness and sarcasm. Even the simplest things, felt like a wild adventure. Together we explored the world around us, leaving our mark everywhere we went. And as we danced, there was this charismatic wittiness between us that filled every space we entered. Our personalities intertwined perfectly.  We may not have looked the part, but we balanced each other out, like leather and lace. It felt as though we were made for one another, the perfect fit, and everyone else couldn’t help but see it. It was as though we both had finally been freed from the tethers that had bound us, and we were finally living life as we were meant to.  
 
It felt perfect…and that’s what made it dangerous. It was hard to see the writing on the wall behind all the smoke and mirrors. Before I knew it, he had twirled me into a darkened room, filled with an aroma of anger, destruction and fear. In this space, away from the view of others, he filled the room with hurtful words, colorful bruises, false accusations, and rage fueled outburst. He allowed his insecurities, fears, and wounds of his past to shape the way he viewed me. Through these distorted lenses, he began to tell me who I was and wasn’t, over and over. Relentlessly, until I started to believe the lies and doubted myself.  
 
In addition to coloring the walls, he began painting me into an image that was inaccurate, demeaning and insulting. And as we continued to dance, he desperately searched for my every flaw. Constantly punishing me for the things within himself he didn’t like. Desperately needing me to be as ugly on the inside as he. So that he could absolve the guilt he carried for his own transgressions. I was trapped in a whirl of power and control. Playing a game with rules that were one sided, unfair, and constantly changing. I had no chance of winning.  Yet if I lost, it was my soul he would take.  
 
It was then that his true colors began to bleed. The mask fell. The horns began to show. And before me stood the monster that had been hiding underneath the charm all along. And the light in his eyes that once reassured me, suddenly turned evil and evoked a fear within me I had never encountered before. And the sound of his voice, which once both excited and calmed me, evoked terror and panic instead.  
 
Before I knew it, he was taking me down paths I’d hoped to never travel. Leading me to temptations I’d spent my life running from. Exposing me to pain I’d never endured before. He violated my mind, my body, and my soul. Stripping me of my identity, piece by piece. Stealing my sense of security and my sanity with each spin around the dance floor.  
 
Sometimes I think the most damage came from when he would twirl me around between cycles of aggressively throwing me out and then sensually pulling me in close again. Aggressively spinning me into gentle embraces, with his warmth breathe on my neck, and soft whispers in my ear of his deep love, devotion, and regret for the pain he had caused… again and again…and again… until I couldn’t tell which way I was spinning or what was the truth anymore.  
 
The heart gets confused when the person who swore to protect it, destroys it. How can the person who makes you feel so completely loved and whole, also make you feel broken and beaten down? How is one man capable of both? He’s not…See, the monster was never capable of love after all…The love was an illusion to keep you from leaving, so he could feed off your soul.