I watched from the crowd. I saw her innocence and wanted to consume it. She had everything except love, and her need to be whole placed a spotlight on her vulnerability. I used that missing piece to write her script. She stepped unwittingly onto the stage and into a role I designed solely for her. She made it too easy -- corrupting a good girl who only wanted to be seen.
The second act began with practiced ease. Assuming the role of her protagonist was no challenge. I held back just enough to force the timid actress to chase. Her guard dropped, leaving the program to her destruction. Beautiful words and gentle lines built her up, placing her on a glass dais. She ran straight into the charismatic smile and arms that wrapped her in fictitious warmth. Then she isolated herself from every voice that would criticize my performance. I planted seeds of self doubt until she questioned her own confidence. When she broke character and offered apologies, I bowed out, leaving her empty. Shattering her pedestal, I brought the curtain down quietly. From the balcony, I applauded her ruin.
The play was over. She was decimated. My darkness had only to direct her toward the shadows. It was her own monologue that brought her to her finale. I took all of who she was, leaving her with nothing but crushing surrender. It was intoxicating to watch her drown in the wreckage she had caused herself. Now she will forever suspect her heart, always be afraid it will fail again. I relished in the moment... until boredom stirred once more, and I slipped away in search of a new star.