Universal by Sezzie, admin
-- by Sezzie
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“Don’t call me that.”
“What?”

 
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1.) “Beautiful.”
 
It was wrong in too many ways.
 
She’d devoured many a man in her time; a femme fatale that loved ‘em and left ‘em and crushed hearts like they were made of china. She’d turned away if they’d called her that, because they had no idea what it meant.
 
They abused its definition, and the only person she’d allowed to say it – Maigon had been her name - had murmured it with a cherry stained mouth against her stomach as her fingertips had danced across her thigh.
 
Because in Maigon’s dictionary, beautiful was just another word for hopelessly flawed.
 
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2.) “Darling.”
 
It was an endearment that had once rolled off her mother’s tongue and made her feel warm inside, even when the wind was howling in the night. Now, it only brought back memories she’d convinced herself were better off forgotten.
 
She wasn’t a darling, but far from it. She’d stopped being mommy’s little girl the day she was forced to grow up because of a gunshot and an elevator. Daddy’s little girl had never really counted for much and you didn’t get far in the world by playing nice.
 
Besides - being a bitch was just so much easier.
 
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3.) “Sis.”
 
Every time he called her that, someone either died, or disappeared.
 
It would have been bearable if it weren’t for the derisive way in which he said it. It was a colourless reminder of how he had control over her, how he knew how far she was willing to go to get what she wanted and how he had the power to destroy her, even if it meant he had to go down with the ship.
 
Every time he called her that, someone either died, or disappeared.
 
She wondered how long it would be before that someone was her.
 
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4.) “Angel.”
 
She hated the name, and hated its mockery of who she was.
 
She didn’t have wings. Flying was freedom – something she’d never had. She doubted she remembered what it meant.
 
She didn’t have faith in anything holy. Angels were chaste and innocent and stood for everything that was right and virtuous. Her halo had been extinguished by the shadows of her world a hell of a long time ago, but as much as it hurt, she let Him say it.
 
She let Him call her that because whatever the pain it caused…
 
She felt as if she deserved it.
 
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5.) “You know what.”
 
When it came from him, it was nothing but an echo of a world where she’d trusted him without a moment’s thought, against every single thing her father may have drilled into her. It was a key to her heart that he’d always had the opportunity to turn; to throw the door open and break inside and turn her life upside down. But for some reason, all he did was give it a nudge every now and again.
 
It was slightly ajar, and she knew he was only biding his time before he edged his way in.
 
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“Don’t call me that.”
“What?”

 
And that time, she didn’t reply.
 
Because if she had, there would be nothing left to call her.


This story archived at http://www.pretendercentre.com/missingpieces/viewstory.php?sid=1927