You look so pretty, pretty like the sun. Could stare at those eyes, the caramel and champagne-tinted irises delighted against the sun rays as the sun cornered itself to watch you. You were looking gentle and attentive as you scribbled on your sketchbook. Your brunette hair had a silvery shine on top of the curls as they fell from your eyes somewhat. You looked delicate as if someone's fingers gilded against your nose to make it pointed, and the way your jaw tightened, a knife sliced through it, the skin ripple and supple. You were glistening as the sun bathed in you. The shame-fitted sun rays caressed the pores I have desired, touching you in those areas I lust for. You were beautiful, the poignant mole on your thin lips making my heart flutter, swooning over my brain and clogging itself. My heart galloped as you bit your lower lip and hurriedly sketched a portrait. You always do, right here, at 5 in the morning sitting in between the aisle where the end shelves of the library end. Sitting on the cold floor and scrambling with pencils against your sketchbook, I wonder what those sketches are of? Who are those sketches of? Your crinkled t-shirt which you wore the last day still looked good on your skin, loosely fitting your curvy body, you weren't particularly masculine but your arms were built, and you had a thin waist. You wore the same pair of black pants you wore last week. Your long hair was disheveled and messy, making me try to bend and see your eyes harder. Here I am hiding behind another library shelf, right behind the aisle you are sitting on. I was staring at you since the morning sun fell upon you. You look so miserable as I noticed the bruises against your lips, right under those sun eyes, the left one darkening, blood clotting against your cheek as I could make out a mark of a finger, your lips quivering a little, but the focus was on the paper as you drew. The scars on your collar bones were visible, and the marks must be of burn. The blood drying on the edges of your lips. Your eyelashes were glowing but the dim light was making my heart clench. I saw your eyes wandering around as you tried to find the source of another breathing person. The university library was empty. Your sun eyes landed on the drink on a cup, it was a latte, with two pumps of whipped cream, caramel sauce, one pump, and no sugar, with two shots of espresso. Just how you like it. I saw your eyes shining brighter than the sun as you grasped the mug and took a sip of that now-cold coffee. I brought the coffee at 4 in the morning just to make sure it will be hot enough for you to taste it as you enter the library at 4:45 in the morning. The after-expression was phenomenal as you smacked your lips and took a huge bite of that caramel-glazed plain doughnut, you love plain doughnuts filled with vanilla puff pastry filling, I had bought a lemon cream filled one day and you coughed for 5 whole minutes. I have tried every flavor and tested your taste buds and I finally found your favorite. You looked around but I was hiding so well, as I felt my eyes burn looking at you finishing the whole meal. Sipping continuously as you took a break from drawing. Then you went back to draw as the scraps of pencil were heard and I sighed in relief. You were contended as the lips curved upwards a little. You are so sun-like, pretty fluttering sun rays with scars on your whole body, loitering here and there. He was so beautiful that I felt a tear droplet fall from the corner of my eye.
I closed the diary with a thud. As I heard little whimpers leave her mouth as she slept beside me on the floor. Her hands were tied with the shackles. Her feet were tied with copper chains as well. She was bound like an animal. Her lips quivered as the blood dried on her lips. I got up from the concrete floor as I looked around. 10 of the masked men with machine guns stood in each of the corners of the warehouse. I looked at them as they got alerted and stood straighter than earlier. I nodded as they nodded vigorously. I straightened my back and held my posture as I worked on the collar of the blazer. I reached the exit door. I turned around and found her sleeping in that thin cloth, barely covering her body. The chill was bone-cracking against the warehouse walls. She looked like a slum-dunked girl, messy and dirty, ugly and muddy. Bruised and scarred. Petite and helpless. I scoffed as I turned around, leaving her in that shivering coldness of my warehouse. I slammed the door closed.