Maybe

Maybe it was the occasional glint in her eyes, like she knew what she was doing. Maybe it was simply the way her hair shined in the light; how it always looked perfect. Maybe it was the soft, sumptuous curves of her body. Maybe it was the perfect smallness of her being. Maybe it was the way her lips (those sweet, sugary, sinfully plump red lips) would twitch up into something akin to mischief: a smirk made of hollow smoke that you couldn’t distinguish from reality. 

 

Or maybe it really was the bright flush of her cheeks, spreading enticingly lower. Maybe it was the almost silent gasp from sweetly parted lips when something unkempt was implied. Maybe it was those moments when her big doe eyes widened in shocked innocence. Maybe it was when her little tongue flicked out in contemplation of things her sheltered mind couldn’t comprehend. Maybe it was the almost childish nature of her speech, her actions, her personality, that begged to be ruined; used. Maybe it was the dark whispered inclinations to destroy that purity that made her so enticing. Maybe it was all the bad things that could be done and the reactions they would receive from her untarnished soul as it was stained forever black. 

 

Maybe, it was all of the above. Maybe it none of it and just a compulsion from society, from humanity itself. It didn’t change the lust or need for this girl in all the ways she didn’t deserve. And maybe that was it, the real kicker in the equation, she didn’t deserve it, any of it, she deserved far far more than she would ever get, so it would be so easy, so guiltless, because she wouldn’t get the life she deserved regardless. 

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