He had it all.
There was no denying it. Not now, not ever.
In the palm of his hand. His beautiful, beautiful hand, I thought.
There.
Yes, right there.
Wealth. Beauty. Intellect.
Power.
Power over what?
Isn't it obvious? Me. Power over me.
Wait, no. Not only me, but over all the others, too.
But we weren't in his palm. What a ridiculous thought that was.
We were at his feet begging him for attention, sex, words.
Love.
Everyone hoping he would pick them above the dozens of others. Lifting them, and only them, to his side.
Oh, how much I hated that I hoped, too.
But there's something else you need to know.
He has pride shining in his eyes.
And in all my hating and in all my wanting, I knew.
Eventually this would be his downfall.