His aim was perfect. And he had broken her. Her heart was shattered, bomb shrapnel inside her chest killing her from the inside out.
He didnít even care.
His enthusiasm, his passion, his zealous attitude towards everything in his life is what attracted her to him.
And itís what broke her in the end.
He had once worshipped her and fawned over her the way he did with his career. The difference was infatuation; he loved his job but he barely adored her.
His eyes (arrows) shot straight into her heart. He captivated her, his poison sinking into her system.
Her perception became tinted with infatuation from cupidís love potion. She became possessive and jealous, allowing the superficiality of his adoration to blind her and bind her heart.
He was charming and beautiful, deceitful. He had struck like cupid on Valentineís Day one year. Now, her consequences imprisoned her to sorrow on Valentineís Day. Each tear linked together, binding her in hand cuffs and chaining her to the wall.
His words sealed the links together. He had convinced her into believing it was all her own fault. She had challenged him, pushing Cupid to his limits.
But he was better than expected.
His wings allowed him to fly so far above the ground and attack from overhead. He could sweep her up into the air before dropping her to the ground. Her body twisted and turned in the air, bending beneath the pressure of gravity and spinning in the free fall. It was all dreamlike before she smashed into the ground, reality breaking her heart.
She had been strong, independent and free. He thrived off of stealing her freedom; so he came, like that thief in the night, to bring her down smoothly. Every sacrifice of her choice only increased his power. She fed him like water to a thorn bush; once her watering can was empty, he would find another source leaving her empty.
He blew his pipe and attracted she came, dancing and laughing before plunging to her proverbial death. His music had created a perfect mask for him, painting the perfect illusion of Prince Charming.
He wore nobility with pure grace and decoration. His Gryffindor nature seemed to allow fans to flock with great interest and obvious affection. He desolated the name of Gryffindor with his self-interest and destructive nature.
I held her tightly to her chest, hoping my heartbeat could remind her that her heart, too, beat. In silence, I watched Cupid pull out another arrow. He carefully crafted it, lacing it with flattery and lingering stares. He retrieved his bow, crafted from his own lies and deceit. He aligned his arrow, testing the weight before pulling back the string. With a quick intake and shifted grip, he exhaled allowing the arrow to glide straight towards the girl. It slipped straight through her heart and I woefully watched the poison spread through the girl.
ďHello, Iím Oliver.Ē
So, this was my first Oliver/OC. And the entire story was told through the perspective of the OC's sister who hated Oliver for what he did to her. It was pretty angsty and the first one I've written in a while. Please let me know what you thought. R & R.