The Broken Glass House

He had done everything he could to stop. Stop loving her so much. Stop from hurting her time and again. He had once even tried to push her out of his life. It ended in vain. She was still there in his life, all flesh and blood. No matter how much he tried to stay detached, she almost always managed to elicit a reaction from him. He knew he was wrong for her. He was a misanthrope, a misogynist who could not complete a sentence without sarcasm. Normal people stayed away from him. But then,  that was normal people. She was an idealistic girl who believed in the goodness of people. She believed in being nice and karma doing rounds. He knew he was bad for her. Things were not what it seemed to be. He sometimes felt she lived in a glass house and hence was afraid to throw stones at others. He did not want to be the one to break the glass. Yet, he had. As he saw her sitting by the balcony drunk and high, he knew he had been the one to shatter it and suck her into his darkness. He had been curious and wanted to know the truth. Now, all he could do was wait and watch her until she went to sleep.

P.S.: This post is a part of  The Write Tribe - Ultimate Blog Challenge - July 2014