Thief, there was a thief inside the house.
Flipping back the blankets, I got out of my bed as quietly as I could. Small breaths escaped between my lips as I grabbed my plush robe and slipped into it, wondering what a thief was doing in my house. There was nothing in my house that was worth stealing. Or at least, I hadn’t thought so.
Stepping out of my room, I silently slipped down the stairs, trying not to breathe as I made my way to the drawing room. Closing my eyes, I counted to ten before I peeked through the crack in the door. My breath caught in my throat when I saw exactly what the thief was stealing.
“What do you think you are doing?!” I demanded as I burst through the door, hands on my ample hips.
“I am stealing your heart,” the thief replied calmly, not even looking back at me as he lifted the crystal heart from its pedestal.
“But why? I did not say you could have my heart.”
“And I did not ask.”
I glared at the man, puzzled as to why he was stealing my heart. My heart that I kept on a pedestal to show that I was tied to no one and that I was wild and free. Why mine? Why my heart? Even though I was glaring daggers at his back, the man did not seem to notice.
“Hey!” I called after the man, alarmed when he stuffed the heart into a bag and calmly started to walk off, “Where do you think you’re going with that?! That’s mine you know! I never said you could steal it!”
I saw a ghost of a smile as the thief glanced over his shoulder at me before he replied. “And I did not ask to steal it. But when a heart is stolen, no one really has much of a choice. And to be the first one to steal your unflawed heart,” he sighed happily, as if he knew something I didn’t. “I am honored mademoiselle, to be the one to steal your heart for the first time. Please, let me have it. If not but for tonight and tonight alone, that I may marvel at its pure innocent beauty.”
I blinked, awed and shocked into silence. Who was this man? Marvel at the pure innocent beauty of my heart? What did that mean? Wanting him to explain, I grabbed his arm so that he couldn’t leave just yet.
“Monsieur,” I said, my voice low and my moss colored eyes wide with curiosity, “What do you mean by all of that? Please explain.”
“Ah chéri,” the thief murmured and turned around, scooping my plump body into his strong embrace, “How innocent and pure you are. How green and decorous you are. Someday my little chéri, I promise that you will know everything that I speak of. I promise that your heart will be stolen many more times, though I cannot promise that it will not be broken.”
“My heart? Broken?” I asked, perplexed and fearful now. “No, not my heart. My heart may be made of the purest crystal, but it is also strong as iron. My heart will not be broken.”
A sad sort of smile lifted the corners of the thief’s mouth as he looked down at me, an unnamed emotion swirling around in his dark cobalt eyes. What was that? That emotion that swirled and shifted in his eyes and threatened to make me forget what I was protesting.
“Chéri,” he murmured, his voice low, “Do not ever change. No matter what happens, never change.”
“But-” I started to speak but his finger against my soft lips stopped my words. And no more words I had to speak, so I watched, puzzled about what the thief had said, as he walked out of my house with my heart.
After that encounter, I saw the thief often enough for that unnamed emotion to grow and form in me. For a year we were together, learning everyday new things about each other. For the time we were together, we were happy. And as all things, it had to end. And it happened…
–
Tears coursing down my face, I sat up, trying to push it all to the back of my mind. It had been a year since that incident, but the pain and the hurt were still there.
Trying not to choke on the tears and the pain, I looked over at the small table beside my bed. There was my crystal heart now flawed and fractured.