Emperor of Mayhem

f i f t y - s i x

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TROUBLE IN PARADISE
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I didn't want to do it, stress over what Mrs T said. But it became such a plague. Day in day out it was stuck in my head, repeating like a damaged casette. And one research after the other just for a better knowledge of the Syndrome, I felt myself crumbling.

Now my heart had been split into tiny multiple shreds I didn't even know which barely beating vein to follow. My head was here, my head was there, my thoughts were all over the place, like chaos in a train station.

I feared that I might just have the Stockholm Syndrome. And the chances of a positive or negative result if my brain was scanned were at 70-30, 70 being yes, Azania, you poor thing are not in love but just under some damn illusion. And 30 being well, love?

I was fucked.

So fucked. I was losing myself slowly and I didn't know what else to do but distance myself from the man I thought I loved madly.

"I don't understand," Mikhail's voice pierced through my thoughts, slightly gravy, but more panicked, "Wh-what do you mean you want a separate room, Azania?"

"I really don't think I stuttered when I said it," I sounded angry but it wasn't directed at him. It was at myself for being so confused and unable to interpret my feelings. "I definitely said I want my own room. A separate room." 

"I heard what you said, Azania." he droned, stepping closer to me. "What I don't understand is why you're suddenly asking for your own room when we have been sharing a room for months now." I could feel every breath of his, feel the heat of his presence seeping through every pores of my skin, hear how ragged my heart had begun to beat at his sheer proximity.

He always does this to me. Make me feel everything a little bit too much than I should. Confusing the hell out of me and now it was so painful that I didn't know whether to embrace all these or shove them away because hell, this could either be true love or Stockholm Syndrome.

Damn, Stockholm Syndrome.

"I need my privacy." I said with an air of coldness again, a stealthy glare fixated at him through the mirror, "I'm just not comfortable sharing a room with you for now. I need space. I need to clear my head and I can't do that when you're in my face, hovering over me, twenty four seven."

"What?" His voice crumbled, brows knitting in such a deep furrow, "What's all these, Azania? What the hell are you talking about?" 

I shrugged his hands off when they dropped on my shoulder, walking away from the mirror to grab my backpack. This week was our continuous assessment week. I had about three or four tests today and though I had no idea yet how I was going to pass all when I currently had my mental state in a bit of a jumbled state, I shouldn't miss anyone at least. I should at least write my name on the script. The teachers did say a properly written name would be awarded two marks.

"All I'm asking for is a room, Mikhail," I said over my shoulder as I chucked two novels into my bag, "Don't make it look like you're gonna travel to the moon to get it. There's an empty one right across yours and I was told it used to be mine."

"Baby, come on." He crossed the room to me, his steps almost unsteady compared to the usually calculated ones, "Why are you suddenly making such demands? I mean we have been sharing this room for at least half a year now. Even when you woke up from a coma and saw me as a stranger, you didn't find it uncomfortable. Why now? All of a sudden?"

"I lost my memory, Mr!" I uttered, "My head was empty, everything was either grey or bleak. I felt lonely and you were the only one there. You were the one taking care of me. So it's only natural that I nod to your every word and cling to you, right?" I turned to look at him, "Well, now I don't desire to do that anymore. I want a room for myself."