The Devil at my Door - Part ll

“It is impossible to suffer without making someone pay for it; every complaint already contains revenge.”

Friedrich Nietzsche

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The beauty of the nightlight cast a gentle glow across the side of his face as he stepped through the door. It has been said that when the devil knocks, he doesn't come with horns. Instead, he comes dressed in everything you ever thought you wanted. Tonight, he was sharp, tailored, and calm. His shadow curved against the wall like it belonged there. His voice slipped into the silence like a familiar song.

It could have fooled anyone.

But not me,

Not anymore.

He walked in like he owned the air between us, like I had invited the ghost of my destruction back into my home. Every step he took, I mirrored him – slow, intentional, measured strides that gave me just enough time to gather my thoughts and quiet the storm raging within. He radiated danger. A stillness that held both grief and comfort, like fire beneath a glass.

Who the hell did he think he was?

He had the uncanny ability to alter the energy of a room without a single word. That power hung to him like smoke - natural, casual, unshaken. He wore it like a cologne: confident, magnetic, deeply calculated.

But it wasn't real. It wasn't earned.

It was a performance.

 Worn like a suit, stitched from shadows and silence.

He moved like a man shaped by wisdom who had learned many things.

But what he mastered was deception.

He knew how to cloak cruelty in kindness,

how to fracture someone and call it love,

how to leave you wrecked but still wanting.

A craftsman of sorrow,

with a tongue dipped in honey and poison alike.

So, I studied him.

I watched his patterns. I memorized his pressure points. I mapped out his quiet storms. I observed how he thundered through the hearts of women like a storm over glass cities – shattering them, then leaving their wreckage to rot in open water – hollow, lost at sea. He never stayed behind long enough to witness the damage. He just sailed on to the next storm.

I studied the HEART of the devil, who now smiled at my door.

Because I refused to be next in line, to die at the hands of an "unworthy opponent."

I gathered myself without revealing I'd ever been shaken. Because time wasn't just moving – it was a weapon now. And I wielded it with intention. My mind was already in motion. Calculating, strategizing, watching him, not directly, but through reflections. What he didn't know – what he couldn't know - was that he stood in a room I had redesigned. It wasn't just my bedroom anymore.

It was my WAR ROOM!

And he was standing on my battlefield – completely unaware.

I'd built my resistance – quiet but ruthless.

One that would cost me, maybe everything.

But survival demanded sacrifice.

And, I wasn't here for closure.

I wasn't looking to heal him.  

I came to leave this encounter alive - and intact.

To take him down, I had to become someone unrecognizable. I had to surrender every gentle part of myself - the need to be loved, understood, or saved. It was about ensuring he never sang another deceptive song again – one seductive enough to drown anyone else.

Because defeating the devil of the night required precision. Discipline. Silence.

It required a special kind of cold.

Something colder than revenge.

So, I became ice.

A harsh, beautiful winter!

I refused to believe that he was invincible. Or unmatched.

At that moment, I knew a frontal assault wouldn't work.

He'd be prepared for that. He'd be ready. Men like him always are. They count on your rage. Plan for your retaliation. That's how they stay in control – by baiting your fire and watching it burn you down.

So, I waited.

Then, when the timing was right -  

I launched Operation Galaxy Affair.

One truth I learned from him is that he is vulnerable and susceptible to a woman who can speak to his hidden place.

Because even the strongest monsters have weaknesses.

A quiet place protected behind layers of charm and arrogance.

A soft spot buried beneath the armor.

And if you press in the right way,

with the right words,

in the right tone,

EVEN Goliath MUST FALL!

So, I became his irresistible mayhem when I taught myself to speak the rhythm of his secrets - the language of his heart.

Not to love him –

but to dismantle him from within.

I became a melody he couldn't resist.

His beautiful undoing.

Beauty and the Beast was no longer a fairytale to me. It was my biography.

But unlike the story,

I wasn't here to redeem him.

I wasn't seeking his heart.

I wasn't trying to break a curse.

No.

I came to SILENCE him!

Every word I spoke was a blade.

Every move, PRECISE.

My only aim was to ensure he would NEVER tune a song

strong enough again to serenade even a stone.

Operation Galaxy Affair required my most authentic self - and maybe just a hint of madness.

I embraced both.

Because this devil lived by a code.

And that night,

I came to rewrite it!

See you next week…

Kerique Hoo-Kim