By the time she was sixteen, she was only partially there. The rest of her had been taken away. The process had started not long before but somehow seemed endless. She wondered how long it would be until she was fully gone.
Her hands were the first thing to go, lost to the boy that intertwined his fingers with hers on that Thursday afternoon. She was just fifteen then, too young to possibly comprehend what was soon to come.
Next were her lips, a kiss that went on like a novel, losing them a thousands times over again every time they met his. Slowly, he was becoming a part of her in ways unimaginable.
And then her breathe, every time he touched her, sending shivers to the bone. As the feelings floated up her veins , she didn’t say a word, letting him have complete control over every piece of her.
The last thing to go was her heart. It was a Sunday night. She realized how deeply she loved him. Enchanted by the way he talked to her, captivated by his dark eyes. With every breath, he reminded her that she belonged to him. Welcoming the truth, she remained still, wondering which part of her he would take away next.