She thought she could save him. Girls like her always think they can. She's drawn to his brooding bad-boy persona not for the thrill, but for the chance to be the person to uncover his potential. The girl who molds him into a productive member of society. It didn't work, of course, because guys like him rarely want to be reformed. He let her think she was succeeding, all the while slowly corrupting her. By the time he was done pretending, she had become a shadow of her former self.
At the inception of their twisted relationship she was a vivacious honor student who volunteered to tutor him in English. It would look impressive on her college applications, with the added bonus of fulfilling her naive desire to fix someone. From the outside, one might say she brought it on herself, assuming she was so much better than him, that the mere passing of time in her presence might transform him. But if you had watched her mother railroad men into submission your whole life, a new one almost every year, you might also think it was a normal part of life.
For him, the beginning of their relationship had been carefully orchestrated. Making sure she'd overhear the teacher scolding him for a bad book report, and then adopting a suitable attitude that read 3 parts devil-may-care, 1 part I-don't-want-to-be-stuck-here-forever. This was to be his first foray into the game of destroying lives. He'd learned that from his father, had grown up watching him manipulate women for no other reason than his own sick pleasure.
She tried any manner of methods to interest him in studying, to no avail. It wasn't until he mournfully (gleefully) mentioned that his ex-girlfriend (imaginary though she was) broke up with him for spending too much time with her, that they came to an understanding. For each correct assignment he completed, a kiss. Its just a little peck, after all, but she was an innocent and he was anything but. Had she been more aware, she might have recognized the twinkle in his eye for the gleam of triumph that it was. Instead she, like any young girl in the throes of first love, reveled in his gentle touches.
He was a master, controlled enough to fully play her fantasy out. She never felt the sinister edge in his grip, interpreting his force as eagerness. Assuming the brief brushes on sensitive areas were accidental, not part of a carefully orchestrated plan.
He took everything she gave willingly, playing the doting gentleman. But when he gazed longingly into her eyes, he was imagining a different future than the one his lips professed. A future where those big brown eyes filled with tears, her delicate features twisted in anguish.
Her mother might of recognized the signs, had she been paying attention. But she was wrapped up in her own "project" and couldn't be bothered to spare her a second glance.
On the night of her mother's fifth (or was it sixth?) wedding, he made his final move. Aided as he was by starry-eyed dreams of her own wedding, and several glasses of champagne, he broke down her final wall of resistance. Determined to make a lasting impression, he escorted her to her bedroom, pretending to be unsure when she invited him in. He took a gift that night that was not meant for him. He was jubilant in his success, proud enough to share this sweet victory with his mentor. He set the scene carefully, moving around her sleeping form, arranging to room with an artist's eye. When the door opened to reveal her mother and his father, he felt the warm glow of approval from his father and rejoiced at the dismay on his new stepmothers face. He gloried in her soft gasp of surprise when she awoke to a room of people. Was giddy with joy as he rejected her pleading and declarations of love. Took great satisfaction in telling his new "mother" exactly what had happened. He smirked as the two women (for we can hardly classify her as a girl any longer) tried to ignore the fact that in the past 18 years they had failed to forge a bond that would allow them to comfort each other.
Ruining two lives was infinitely more satisfying than merely destroying one.