He hates her hands.
They're long, and emerald in colour. Her skin reminds him of garbage—rotting and disgusting and sick. He hates the way that she's so much bigger than him. Her hands are twice the size of his, and her fingers can curl over the ends of his. He hates it. He hates the way her hands intertwine with his so easily, and the way her long nails scratch against the back of his hands.
He hates her skin.
He hates the way that whenever she bathes in the porcelain tubs the water goes green as soon as her toes touch the surface. The water ripples around her as she lets her long legs fold under her willowy body. He always keeps her company.
He hates her eyes.
She stares, and her eyes travel down his body, as he stands in his light-coloured clothing. She watches him like her crow, Diablo, nestling on her shoulder. Her horns remind him of the devil, and he hates it. Her eyes are small and beady and surrounded by violet makeup in a mock display of beauty.
He hates her hair.
Whenever she lets her long, murky waves of poison fall from her demon crown, she makes him touch it. He wants to pull, snag the disgusting spider and rip it screaming from her head.
He hates her walk.
She almost glides, and he can never hear her coming. She keepshim in his prison, always in the dark. He's grown to like the dark. It keeps him company.
He hates her voice.
It's deep and foreboding to any outsider, with a venom tongue and spilled sarcasm. She forms her words with great articulation, moving her mouth like a songstress. To him, her voice means guilt, means mockery, means solitude. He misses the light.
He hates her.
She was never his friend.
He hates him.
He left him alone.
And now, gently combing his fingers through Maleficent's hair, he wonders, where did he go wrong? She sighs against him, her larger, longer body falling between his legs. "Is there something wrong with me?" he asks, a ghost of a whisper
"The boy is wrong with you."
He's silent again.
She turns between his legs. "After all," she says, her long, green finger placing itself under his chin. "The closer you get to the light…"
"The greater your shadow becomes."
He hates her smile.