He hated green eyes.
The way they sparkled. The way they seemed to see through him, piercing into the darkest corners of his soul.
He hated brown hair.
The way it tumbled over her shoulders, soft and wild, like a crown meant for a queen.
He hated soft skin.
The way it begged to be touched, flawless and warm under his rough hands.
He hated her smile.
The one that lit up a room, the one that made him feel, things he didn't want to feel.
Her scent?
He hated that most of all. That lingering sweetness that clung to his memories, suffocating him.
Her?
He hated her entirely.
At least, that's what he told himself as he watched her through the CCTV feed.
The classroom buzzed with the chatter of children. She stood at the front, her presence radiant, as if she were the sun itself.
Peace Reed. Her soft laughter echoed faintly through the speakers as she held up a storybook, her delicate fingers tracing its colorful pages.
"The Frog Prince," she read aloud, her voice melodic and warm.
He listened, the sound stirring something restless in him.
"Once upon a time, there was a beautiful woman," she began, smiling at the children. "And she was so beautiful that every man in the kingdom wanted her. But then, she met an ugly frog. The frog wished to be beautiful, so she gave him a kiss. And with that kiss, he became a prince."
Her words drifted into his ears, but in his mind, he rewrote the story.
No. His version was different.
Once upon a time, there was a princess bound in chains.
In his tower, he was the frog prince. But he did not wish to be beautiful.
He wished to see the light drain from her captivating green eyes, those eyes that haunted his dreams.
And every time she trembled in fear, every tear she shed, every gasp of terror, he loved her more.
He loved her so much that he added a new chain to her prison every day, ensuring she could never escape.
She was the only beautiful thing in his dark, wretched castle, and she belonged to him.
Even in death, she would belong to him.
He leaned back in his chair, his eyes locked on the screen as Peace smiled at the children, turning another page of the book.
She laughed softly at something a child said, her lips curving into that smile he loathed.
Her green eyes had that faraway look again, that haunted gaze that told him she was thinking about him.
That look, he adored it.
Her fear was like a drug, intoxicating and addictive.
Soon.
He stood, adjusting his perfectly tailored suit. Soon, he would return to her life.
Soon, she would once again be caged in his castle, trapped in his chains.
Because Peace was his.
His alone.