Fate Project : Collision

33 | Breaking point

Phase 33
"This is the start on how it all ever ends."
-A

RHINE

I'm allowing a semblance of rationality and permit myself at least a span of ten minutes to be logical before I go ahead and freaking lose control of myself again.

    After one full minute, I stare at the ashy hazel mane, sharp cheekbones, eyebrows arched at those blue bright eyes of my best friend. The right latent eye that's always been hidden by her bangs is perfectly exposed for the world to see. I know Alice Lincoln ever since I've been sent on the Bridge and had the unfortunate event to see her naked while she was bathing in the river at the age of five years old. We were kids but she made me promise to take responsibility and marry her like those silly promises and pinky swears childhood friends adored when they were young. And cross my heart and hope to die, this is not the Alice I've grew up with. Pinky swear.

    In the next three minutes, I try to come up for the reason behind this. She's an irregular like me and it's so easy and fast to jump on conclusions why this fact is just simply and absolutely do not make a shred of sense and logic.

    Except the pin fastened in her dress, just over her heart.

    The pin that allows irregulars entry through the Gates.

    I have one conclusion on my mind.

    So the following five minutes, I pore over the obvious observations that can help confirm this conclusion. She's not harmed, she's even groomed and that is disturbing if you will see how Alice normally looks back at the Bridge. She's not screaming or ready to fucked things up, she's incredulously calm and levelheaded—and just to note : Alice looking sensible can only mean the end of the world. She's not freaking out, she can hold her emotions pretty well, and spoiler alert : if Lind is the human embodiment of anger and rage, Alice is the formula of sarcasm, anger and self-righteousness that melded together to be always narrow-mindedly moralistic, angry and ready to yell at the world. She perfectly dresses like a regular, and to make a point—she perfectly acts like one.

    And I don't mean a moot point, I mean the point where my universe revolves.

    Before my last remaining minutes are up, I try to find the if's and why's that made this distortion in my galaxy. Times up, I fail.

    And my focal point of gravitation topples.

    I scream.

    Is this confusion? Anger? No, it's not. Wrath? No, it's not even malevolence.

    This is madness.

    I don't recognize the creature that I've become. The hysteria, the insanity, the delirium that raids my body is something I've never felt, never known before.

    And I don't dislike it, to be completely honest—this, it is an ecstasy I've never tasted.

    The strings vibrate as if responding to my sentiments, wild and feral they react all over the place, past here and there, everywhere.

    The sudden rush of force charges me, triggers and rouses something inside me I feel like I forgotten what the world used to be before this. The ripple of energy that sets off, on the loose inside me, makes me wonder how much time did I waste before I can finally remember and regain what it is to be myself.

    Because the control it makes me feel can no longer be explained nor comprehended.

    My senses are all but overwhelmed. I feel like I can control anything, like I can be anything, like I can do anything I wanted—and know I can.