Fatal Attraction | D.M. (Soft Rewrite)

Chapter Fifty-Three - Riddle

'You'd tell me, wouldn't you? If-if it was too soon?' Millicent asked cautiously. Gazing through the mirror, to see Ophelia laid back on her bed. Each curtain pulled aside, to reveal her outfit for the evening. Slinky black trousers, hugging her thighs and a small matching top, tightly wrapped around her chest. Her dark hair was pin-straight and her makeup was wonderfully effective at brightening her complexion.

But the fact she looked divine, all dolled up, did nothing to allay Millicent's concerns.

'Too soon?'

'I just mean, if you want to bail and spend the night in - don't feel bad. I'd join you.' Millicent shrugged after she spoke, like her casual tone could dissolve the residual tension, clouding the room. The insinuation behind her words that pointed to a more damning truth, she doesn't think I'm ready.

'What makes you say that?' Ophelia replied, playing dumb. Shifting to a sitting position, to meet her friend's eye in the reflection.

Millicent was at the vanity in her treasured slip dress. With tiny straps securing it around her shoulders and fabric that skimmed her figure. She looked like an old Hollywood movie star, with coiffed hair and red tint staining her lips and cheeks. Definitely not someone who plans on spending the night in.

Ophelia had given up hope, of gaining her friend's trust. She wasn't trying to earn it fairly, so she couldn't fault her misgivings. But it was tiring, having her words and intentions questioned at every turn.

I know I've settled for pretending - handing out white lies to keep everyone at arms length. But why can't they back off? Let me pretend I'm okay until it's true. It would hurt us both a lot less.

Let me be the fraud, so I don't bow to the pressure. Unloading won't help - I already know what I want and need - and I can't take their advice or compassion. The pity shreds me, depleting my sense of self - forcing me to be the casualty, the scorned woman - when I want to be free. Free from how they expect me to move on and heal, long before I'm ready - and the rules stipulating how to make that happen. 

Aka, I shouldn't be drinking and partying.

I thought Millicent would champion, 'the best way to get over someone is to get under someone else.' Yet it turns out - she's the opposite. She wants me to feel everything and reach a point of acceptance, instead of what I want - distraction by attractive vices.

Selfishly I want to go off the handle...and cause a little mayhem. I envy the people, with nothing holding them back and only their desires driving them forwards.

Might the burdens weighing me down, lift while I take risks?

Accepting how awful I feel about losing him, takes me one step closer to dealing with everything else. And I'm not ready to face all the unresolved questions inside my head, clamouring to be answered.

I don't want to sink too deep - I want to stay on the surface.

But my melancholy heart often perforates this plan. Circling me back to the hateful truth - I'm a stupid girl who fell in love and forgot all her priorities. While my parent's killers still walk the earth.

I wasted time on him...on someone I coveted so desperately. And now look at us, look at what's been ruined.

My head is clogged by excruciating thoughts and no-one living can extract the poison. The only figures who could command my attention are dead. It doesn't matter how much I would sacrifice for a minute to talk...life doesn't work that way.