She always told me about the heroes she loved and said I was like those of her heroes. Even if that made me feel good, I knew that she is just doing the thing that always lovers do at first, just praising each other. But eventually, I understood what she was saying.

Her heroes were not the rock stars, I mean those pretty smart handsome guys, which I thought I was. Her heroes were the ones who had a lot of problems and that much of inabilities. They were the one's who were always cheated by others and mocked by others. Eventually, I started listening more to her stories.

Even if they had all these problems they were trying to survive, and usually, they will be winning in the end, because it was just stories. I never thought of me as that kind of one. But eventually, I started feeling like that. If we let someone came this much close, we will start to believe whatever they say is true.

Everything was romantic for a while, but I felt some kind of change. I think it's the feeling that I have been changing to some kind of lack of fear about the future. When I felt that way I started talking to my friends about it, they mocked me first. Then they said some theories about how they feel about it.

Their theory was that she was trying to make me a failure and trying to become a more important one in my life. They said that she has a selfish motive about controlling me and being my boss. They all said against her. I wasn't expecting that, then I ignored this kind of their suggestions.

But things started to get worse, she told me more about being a hero in her dreams. She told me that the bad days are gonna end and I need to start to create something great. She wanted me to change and do something. That felt like I was being brainwashed.

Discussing this one more time about my friends, I started believing what they were saying. Each minute I was near her I felt like I was being brainwashed. I started hating her, whenever I see her, she felt like those witches, like the red woman. She may look beautiful outside but whatever inside her was something mysterious.

Finally, I broke up with the Red Woman, she called me and cried. But I knew that that's what those witches do to hunt the men, it's the story my friends told me. She called me for a while, eventually, the rate of the missed calls and messages decreased.

Years passed now I see myself as the hero in her stories, the guy with failures trying to survive. All my friends are gone, they had their own problems. I don't miss them, But I miss her. Now I need someone like her to give me directions, but she is out there somewhere, invisible.

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