The Glorious One?

She shuffled the deck of cards swiftly in her hands, as if replaying a song again and again. Neither the bright lights nor the hungry souls in the room intimidated her game. She was a winner. You could still catch shining drops of sweat on her forehead as she pulled her hair into a loose knot. Nervous fingers, sometimes, tapped a beat on the wooden boards and often, a wary expression of worry came across her face. Still, nothing overwhelmed her. She was a winner. She worked her way up to the front line of gamblers.

The room was crammed up. It was brimming with laughter, music and smoke. Tobacco and expensive perfume laced the air. Steady intoxicated smiles kept her going. She fiddled with her drink, thinking hard. Her grin was constant, never giving away a sign of defeat. Nobody could resist tackling her. She played her cards right every time. Old men often stood away from her game, watching from the sidelines. They were wise. They watched her, as a sting of desire ran through their very being. Everybody wanted a piece of her, but she was well beyond mere human needs.

She worked for only one purpose – power. She craved for it.

Power made her inhuman. She lost her sanity. She grew invincible. Nobody could fix her. Fixing her was crucial. But to her, power was security, it was home.

Sometimes, she could still feel his presence around her, breathing down her neck, taking in her sharp smell. His hands reaching out to her, tracing his fingers along her cheekbone and resting on her lips. He was her living force, her strength.

He was gone. He was power. He was vital. He was security.

Hence, every night she stepped out – indomitable and indestructible, selling her body to the game. Just like her deck of cards, one by one, every piece of her was gone.

She too was gone!