Arthur. The first word has to be Arthur because it's the predominant one in my head. Hmm, shouldn't it be dominant?
Arthur, Arthur, Arthur, Arthur, Arthur.
But I want to write something meaningful about what's happened, now. I'm sure he won't mind. It's not as if he doesn't wholly control me. In fact, he even had to tell me "You can write in your diary if you like," for me to write this entry.
And I've ensured I'm writing so that he can read over my shoulder. There won't ever be any secrets between us now. I grow worried at the fact that there might have been before. Arthur pats me reassuringly on the shoulder and everything's okay again.
So. I'm Arthur's. He owns me. I like it. In fact, I love it 'cause I love him.
And I just know that he'll be the best master ever. He loves me too - I can really sense it, even from just being near him.
So there's not a care in my head.
Here's to being Arthur's. (She raises an imaginary glass).
Arthur chuckled at that. Oh, I love to make him laugh. He has such a beautiful, mesmerising laugh.
He's told me to stop now. He wants to kiss me.
I walked downstairs to make myself breakfast and what do I find? Arthur sitting on the sofa, with Harriet sitting at his feet writing in her diary.
At first, there's nothing wrong with the picture until I see Harriet occasionally glancing up at Arthur as if to ask for his approval. He smiles at her and nods slightly, as if saying yes, she has it.
And I knew, instinctively, before he told her to finish writing so he could kiss her and she rushed the last sentence to obey him, what he had done.
As she joined him on the sofa and kissed him, I could almost see the word ‘Arthur' imprinted in her mind. I found myself watching the kiss, disgusted. She kissed him so gently, so softly, letting him kiss her with more passion. She was so insanely relaxed that she could fall asleep at any second.
I stormed to the kitchen, outraged. I wasn't sure if I was more furious that Arthur had totally disregarded my threat and hence shown he thought I couldn't be the guy to dish out punishment, or that he had made Harriet his proprius: his slave.
Well, one thing was certain. I loved Harriet and I was going to do the right thing. One month from now (because I wouldn't break my promise, and I secretly hoped that Arthur would see the error of his ways), if Harriet was either Arthur's proprius or Totally Captivated by him, I would take her from him.
Arthur should be worried.
TO BE CONTINUED...