Star-crossed

My father would never approve of her, because she's Catholic.

Her mother would never approve of me, because I'm not a member of the elite class.

If we're found out, we're both doomed. Dead meat. We'll never be allowed to see each other again.

We'll be forced apart.

Yeah, I've seen this before. It's in the day time drama series. Goes as far back as Shakespeare. As far back as medieval China. Too common a theme.

Next thing you know, I get sent away to some boot camp, and her mother arranges a marriage for her to some hick from the Mainland or Taiwan. We both escape, pull everyone into a clusterfuck of a mess. And then, evil twins, secret societies, private armies, murderous axe-swinging priests, world domination.

Dear me, I had better stop before my imagination gets the best of me.

If I don't wear a Tissot around my wrist and wear Bruno Maglis and get driven around in a car worth more than at least $20,000, if my family doesn't own a fleet of cars and live in Forbes, I'm out.

If she doesn't attend our place of worship and devote time to it, if she doesn't act like those goody-two shoes girls there who blush and make a big deal out of people holding hands, if she doesn't think like we do, she's out.

I can understand her mother. She doesn't want her kids to lead a hard life.

But this sucks royal dick.

The thought of her being married off to some boorish rich prick who'll just sleep around and drink and treat her like trash and maybe even hit her and abuse her and rape her...

JESUS FUCK.

The phosphorescent glow of my monitor in the dark of my room lights a glint in my eyes as the thought creeps into my mind.

This will only end in pain. And you have no one to blame but yourself.

You're mine and mine alone. There has to be a way.

There's always a way.