•Dichotomy•
|"A division or contrast between two things that are or are represented as being opposed or entirely different."|
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How many silhouettes can one trap in oneself? How many faces can a mask hide...
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Alexandra did not even as much as twitch. She was just so used to keep so indifferent. She had things scarier than ghosts and weirder than the floating castles. But what scared her was that this man had just made his appearance when those triggered voices in her head were still screaming loudly.
This man reminded her of something very familiar. Someone very familiar. The chills were all the same. Yet, he was at the opposite side of that horizon. A lot different.
The heavy foot steps just kept tapping on the floor as he approached her. Sweat beads formed on her pale forehead and she was forced to take a gulp. Her breathing emanated higher and higher as her back could now feel the body heat of someone's chest.
He was near her.
He will harm you, Alexandra. He will scrape you.
Then he will violate you.
Stupid girl! Believes in lies, Dumb girl!
Those horrendous voices laughed at her, like always. A sharp pain tinged her head. She wanted to tear off her head. But she could not.
A ticklish breathe fanned the nape of her neck. Shivers run down her spine. And a strange tremor spread in her breasts, making her chest flutter.
He whispered coquettishly in her ears, "Its been a while now, isn't it?"
He drew out his words so slow and so low; he wanted to taste those ordinary words so patiently.
All because he was not used to use these words in a conversation.
She did not respond. She had passed out far off in space. Contemplating what to do to him.
He could have gotten a better look at her face had she not refused to take off those heavy black curtains of smooth strands of hair. Not even an inch. She would rather suffer the summer heat under her ebony hair than see what lurked beside her.
Sweat was beading on her palms and under the numerous layers of her modest formal clothing. Sometimes she missed those days when she would have nothing to wear but just a plain cotton dress.
He felt a sudden desire to chop off those night locks, which have maybe not seen a pair of scissors since a long time. NYC's thick, humid hair made her hair look a little curled like ringlets and voluminous.
Hidden behind this beautiful tangled mess was her face which he wanted to see so desperately.
What kind of a face are you making right now? Are you crying? Are you terrified? Show me!
This undiscovered joy booming in his heart made him crave more of it.
Alexandra did not want to back down on such an intimidation. The President patiently waited for her reply, still behind her.
