Before the Sun

Chapter Seven- You Look Like You've Seen a Ghost

Sofia

It's my birthday.

I'm twenty.

Another trip around the sun.

Another year closer to death.

Another year further from youth.

Just another year.

"The fair."

My words are muffled and mumbled into my fist. Nikolai glances at me, a raise of his eyebrow and slight tilt of his head.

"The fair?"

He repeats my statement, his voice slightly gravelled. I nod, once. He squints.

"Come with me."

I reiterate my point, lips cemented into a flat line. Nikolai's expression doesn't change, doesn't falter, nothing. I fear he's broken.

"You kind of have to join me, you're my bodyguard after all."

I point out the obvious, wobbling my head from side to side in an over dramatic manner with a long rest of my eyes.

"Who else is coming?"

He questions, that squint still drawing his eyes together. I can't tell you why he's so skeptical, nor why he is acting as if this is some ploy to get rid of him. It's not. I have this guiltiness following me. Terribly over bearing. It seems I can't manage to utter the words thank you to Nikolai. It seems I'm too stubborn, too stuck in my ways. But I'm trying. Trying to be kinder, nicer, more sincere. And it's starting here- with an invitation.

"No one."
I respond, eyes flicking from side to side like suddenly the walls are the most interesting pattern, and the floor- has it always been so beautifully polished?

"Just you and I?"

He, once again, attempts to confirm my words.

"Nikolai, sunshine, what part is confusing you to such an extent?"

The blanket of kindness is beginning to slip. I pick it back up, heaving a sigh.

"Maybe the part where you willingly want to spend time together. Or maybe the part where you haven't insulted me in an entire two minutes of conversation."

His tone is flat, unforgiving and absolutely dripping with sarcasm. My smile falls, my eyes droop and my shoulders slump.

"Forget it."

I mumble, leaving the doorway of his room with a drag of my feet. I'm halfway down the hallway, nearing the staircase when my name is called. It's sighed, annoyance heavy in his tone but it's said nonetheless.

"Sofia, come back."
He says. I can practically hear the anguish and distaste in his voice. I pause, momentarily deciding wether I can be bothered to walk the entirety of the twenty feet back to where Nikolai resides. An inhalation of air, tugging in my lungs and enlarging my chest with its capacity. Release. My frame steps back into its previous position and his eyes find mine. They resemble that of a parent giving in to something they have said no to for far too long. He stands from his seat, two long strides until he's right before me. His head tilts down, a ladder of height above me. Not a word is spoken for a brief moment, just the sound of shallow breaths hitting the air. But then he opens his mouth and utters four words. Just four.

"Be ready in five."

I smile. A real one. And then I slap myself- not really, but internally for letting him bring me even the smallest amount of satisfaction.

The stairs are at my feet, under them and behind me. My hands are rummaging through my wardrobe and my lips are being painted in the thinest layer of glossy glaze. I stare at the row of dresses. All expensive, rich fabrics and hand tailored. Lush colours, perfect embroidering. I should wear one, use them and make sure I look as well as I can. I have a problem with that- always needing to look perfect. It's exhausting, never feeling enough in your own body. Always feeling less of a woman without a short dress and mask of makeup. My fingertips are on the hanger. Staring at the dress, tight, figure hugging. Burning a hole in the fabric.