My Succubus System

Chapter 109: Intervention (3)

Chapter 109: Intervention (3)

“Twin flames. Soulmates. People often call it something along those lines. For me it was something which resonated deep in my soul the moment we first danced together. For months afterwards, she lingered on my mind.”

“Back then, I was just a young teen. Probably sixteen or seventeen at most. I was quiet, not necessarily shy. Just reserved. Observant. Of course I had innermost thoughts and like most people that age, those new sensations, dreams and hopes all mingled together –aching to burst out.”

“I was no different, but in my case I kept a journal. Actually several now that I think about it. Composition notebooks four in total and each filled to the brim with the thoughts of a naive teenager who was totally and completely enthralled. As you might expect, after she and I met most of my journals made her the center of attention.”

“Slowly, surely I worked my way into her circle of friends just for a chance to chat with her every now and again. Whenever the school hosted dances I’d go to her and — just dance, that’s it. Her touch was enough for me at that time. Gradually we began to talk more and had more classes together.” Zula couldn’t help but smile at the prospect of young love. It was a sweet, innocent feeling she’d long since forgotten but as she sat before the weeping succubus a hint of her emotions impressed upon Zula’s heart.

“It wasn’t long before the feelings I long held were bursting at the seams. I couldn’t stop studying her face, the way her long brunette colored hair traced down to the middle of her back. Her beautiful brown eyes, the freckles which dotted the brilliant landscape of her body. You’d think I’d never forget something like that.. Something as precious as that. But I did.”

“Life has a way of blindsiding you. Teaching you difficult lessons in the most simple of acts. The saying that just one action , one day can change your entire life is an understatement.”

“One day, while sitting in class, a classmate took notice of my journal. He asked if I could read it and in my mind I had no real secrets to hide. These were just thoughts, honest thoughts –what harm could come from it after all?”

“That didn’t strike you as suspicious at all?” Shula asked, breaking the silence as she wiped excess tears from her slightly reddened cheeks.

“At the time..no. I hate to admit I was young and naive.” Agni replied as she continued her story.

“So I handed over the journal. He thumbed through it, reading its pages. Meanwhile I was distracted by lessons. Ultimately he gave the book back and I went about my business. It wasn’t long after, however, that rumors began to surface against me. Vile rumors — that I was a pervert, a sexual deviant, that I would fuck anything that moved. The reality was, I was a virgin and wouldn’t lose my virginity ’til several years later. But to the faceless masses that didn’t matter. People love rumors, they love to talk even more.”

“Over time the number of detractors against me increased. This spread into my close circle of friends. Ha. Friends. In reality, they said nothing to me and continued to whisper behind my back for their own amusements. Not one single person approached me to let me know what the situation was. It would be almost a year after the fact before I realized what happened.”

“Generally when I wrote in my journals I didn’t look back on the entries. It was a way for me to seal the thoughts bursting out of my mind into a page. A form of therapy. The day I allowed that boy to ‘borrow’ my journal I was right. For the most part there was nothing in there that would interest anyone at all–save me. Except — for my object of affection.”

“I didn’t realize back then that the human heart could be devious. I didn’t know the shadows which lurked behind a smile, or malice disguised as friendly gestures. At some point while borrowing my journal he ripped a page from it, a single page. It was less that he stole thoughts and ideas and more about the content of that single page that would come to affect me so for the rest of my days.”

“I must have filled countless notebooks with my thoughts, at least 4 by my count. Of those, only one day was spent in thought about sex. I remember wondering what it would be like, imagining the sloping valleys of her body as I indulged in the beauty of her. That’s it. Just one indulgent thought was enough to ruin my life. Of all the pages, filled with love that he read over — he stole the single page which talked about sex.”

“He then used it like a weapon against me, a blade meant to pierce and cut away at me. He shared it with his friends, one of whom was family with my love. He shared it with other students, anyone who would listen or look — and none of them dared to confront me or even mention it. Not even my ‘friends’. ” She clenched her fist fiercely as tears streamed down her cheeks. It was as if she was remembering just how foolish she’d once been.

“Before long the entire school knew about what I’d ‘done’. That is… had a thought. And one way or the other people had their own feelings about it. My ‘friends’ began to distance themselves. The object of my affection did as well, not because of my interest but simply because of the people that were making it into a much bigger issue than it needed to be. Despite this, my feelings remained. Do you know how maddening it is to be approached by people randomly who said things like , ‘You don’t know what love is. You’re confused.’ People who felt inclined to judge you based on a handful of words,just one among hundreds of pages. The same people who couldn’t be real, honest or up front about their own emotions to save their lives?” Her anger reached a crescendo for the briefest of moments, before she continued her story.

“It would be fine if it was just all talk. But I suddenly had guys I never met challenging me to fight to ‘defend her honor’. Groups of kids looking for me after school. Teachers who believed everything without even consulting me and treated me as if I were the problem due to their own personal bias.”

“Still, my love remained. No matter how tarnished or soured it had become. She’d stopped speaking to me, refused to acknowledge my existence, letters or gifts. And in the end I fell into a deep depression. It’s strange but, you never really realize the weight of emotions until they are bearing down upon you. You can only take the unseen arrows for so long, before the wounds begin to show.”

” It had been several years since I first met my love but each day since the incident was utterly depressing. I wallowed in it, but because of how things played out I refused to acknowledge or vent it. My only way of coping was sealed — the journal. Having it used as an instrument of destruction turned me off to the idea of even using it to capture the emotions coursing through my heart. And in the end, day by day those emotions eroded away at my strength.”

“Until, one day I was finally forced to my knees as the sensation of death clawed at me. At the age of 19 I had my first stroke. I remember thinking..that I wanted to live even as things went dark. In that instant I instinctively knew what needed to be done. I needed to separate myself from those emotions of loss if I ever wanted to stand a chance at living. For the same reason I also knew that I had to abandon my love for her which was so fiercely attached to all of my depression. When faced with unrequited love or life I made the decision right then and there — to erect a wall that would safeguard my heart. With all of my will and might I pushed it out of my mind and let go of the depression and sorrow which stole my vitality with each passing day.”

Zula reached out, grasping Agni’s hands as the succubus continued to recount the memories which were now flooding back in like a crashing tidal wave.

“It took years for my heart to recover to an extent that I could freely exercise again. It took even longer for my heart to mend from the emotional pain, such that I could even think of her name without feeling a tinge of remorse. Unfortunately, I wasn’t alive. Not really. Inside I was numb, more like this hollow puppet. Sure, I could walk, talk and laugh but the joy of life was sucked out of me. Along with the pain and sorrow I’d managed to also seal away a great part of me that was responsible for living, for feeling enthusiastic. My love for life itself was gone.”

“This feeling became a way of life, second nature until ultimately I didn’t even need to think about the distance I placed between myself and others. The way of living developed into a seed which blossomed in my heart and strangled any hope of moving on. For as much as I wanted to survive, I’d sentenced myself to a different kind of hell.”

“The gulf between myself and others was immeasurable and endless. And in the end I had no idea how to bridge it. What others see as a simple act, just reaching out to touch another person, is one of the things that scares me the most.”