Before the Sun

Chapter Twelve- Do You Know How Much I Loathe You?

I want to wear pink today.

A sweet blushing rose that glows in the sunlight. I want to wear a ribbon in my hair, light in colour, a contrast to my dark strands of hair beneath. I want straight hair, not a curl or wave in sight. I want to wear a skirt, the hem just reaching my thigh. Maybe a pair of heels, accentuating my already tall frame. Or maybe I wish for a lipstick, a lavish, deep red.

Yet, I choose none.

Because straight hair is him. Short skirts and bubble gum pink is his idea of perfection. A bow to secure my hair is his fantasy and heels were only my favourite accessory when he complimented them. It was never me, any of it- never something I longed for. Not something that became the standard because I enjoyed it. It was always him. And now he is gone, what reason is there to please him?

So, today I wear a t-shirt, the fitting perfectly sewn to my upper half. I choose a pair of jeans- a pair I've not spared a glance at for the entirety of my time in New York. They're baggy and low hanging on my hips, frayed blue denim matching that of the cloudless sky waiting outside the walls of my haven. I wear sneakers on my feet, laced tight and seemingly unworn. My hair is overjoyed at the lack of heat raking through it, my curls bounce with a naturalness that is welcome. And my face- I leave it as it is. The original blush of my cheeks and the ruddy, warm red of my lips, they're just fine as they are.

It seems I've been staring at myself in the mirror for much too long. Not from a place of narcissism or a swelling ego, but from an intriguing nostalgia that hovers around me. I see myself in the reflection, but it's different. I see my younger self. The girl who lived in Italy with only her family and friends. A youthful, untainted glow surrounds her. An innocence not yet ruined by the things written into her future. I wish nothing more than to crawl though the mirror and reinsert myself into that long gone world. I know where she's going and what she has planned for her day. I know not one thing will be able to spoil her mood, it's certain her smile will remain wide for as long as possible. And it will all be real. Every smile, every laugh, it'll all be will be real. If only she could see me now. Maybe then she would know to treasure the time that she is living in all the more. Maybe she would find the small moments to cherish the life she is living.

Or, maybe I think too much.

Today feels unfamiliar. I feel lighter, yet hollow. A part of me is missing, albeit a nasty poisonous part of me. I'm lacking him. I feel a pit of dread at my mourning for what was Christian and I. I know I shouldn't feel at a loss without whatever we had, I know it was wrong, I know he is wrong. But there's this nagging alarm wailing within my mind, a persistent need to un-write my actions. It's the secondary effects of Christian's manipulation. He's not here, not in my room, not in my house, not even in my district, and yet he's in my head. Shouting and begging I go back to him. Just come back to me. Forget it all and let me help you. It's the sensation of the wiring he laid in my brain falling apart. The way he trained my mind to think. It's all blowing up, every fuse he created. He was my normal for far too long, he was what I felt and how I coped. It's now I'm realising how well he trained me to be what he needed. He made me what he wanted, every aspect of my being. I wonder if there is any part of my authentic self left, any shred of my Christian free capacity to begin the reconstruction of myself. But I come to find that the only part of me he left untouched is my grief. And now, I grieve him too. A part of me hoped I would be able to immediately move on, to just forget his existence entirely. However, that part of me is stupid. I know it will take a lot to move forward, to come to terms with the fact that Christian is a bad person, someone I should think back to with distaste. And some day I will, but for now, this is just how it will have to be. Gradual.

"Your father is on his way up."

The voice comes from behind me, startling me. My eyes find Nikolai's through the mirror, his tall frame filling the doorway to my bedroom. He wears his customary suit and tie, perfectly fitting to his being. He look more perfect than usual, and I know it is to impress my father.