Annika Remo, a beautiful and innocent young woman, hides a painful past while living with her unsympathetic uncle and aunt, relying on her fantasy novels to escape. Unbeknownst to her, her uncle has put her on a dangerous blacklist. Matteo King, the...
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Annika Remo
King is smirking and I take a breath to quiet my heart. I will not apologise for the dirt on my soul or feel shame, for the cracks in my heart. But I wear pride with thorns. Growing from each crevice for they protect me from the hands of those who cannot see the beauty beneath my rubbles.
No matter, what people take away from me, I will never let them take away my pride and dignity.
I stand, uniting my eyes to his deep brown ones. "I can't control your behaviour; nor do I want that burden...But I will not apologise for refusing to be disrespected and to be mistreated." King tenses as my heart rapidly beat in my chest.
"Apologise this instance," My uncle roars at me from the other end of the table.
Trauma is personal. It does not disappear if it is not validated. When it is ignored or invalidated the silent screams continue internally heard only by the one held captive. I am not scared, I will not be silenced and I will continue to take to the streets and criticises any wrongdoing that I see.
I leave the table making my way back to the entrance when my forearm was snatched. I turn to look up at king, his eyes burning into me. "Let go," he leans closer so our faces were inches away, I could feel his breath against my face but our eyes never separate. "No," he whispers into my ear, threateningly, causing my breath to hitch.
I wish I could explain how the sound of his voice gives me butterflies. How every single time he looks at me it makes my heart skip a beat and how ever time I'm close to him, I feel so complete. I don't understand why destiny would let us meet knowing that we could never be together.
Annika, come back to your sense.
Taking my arm out of his hold, I walk out. Running through the rain and out the big gates. I can't change what's happened to me in my life or make what's not occurred take place. But I can't say I like it, accept it or believe it's for the best. I don't and never shall, not even if I'm damned for it.
I look up at the grey sky, the raindrops hit my face, mixing with my own tears. I remember my dad telling me 'Life is not about waiting for the storm to pass...It's about learning to dance in the rain' I smile, closing my eyes, feeling the rain against my skin.
If I'm confused, I just spend some time looking at the sky and falling into it. It's not a meditation that anyone taught me. It's something I've done my whole life, and liked doing. I don't think people understand how stressful it is to explain what's going on in your head when you don't even understand it yourself.
I can't tell if it's killing me or it's making me stronger.
Why does he have to do that, clearly I won't apologise for something he needs to apologise for. I could call him many names...Haunting Scarecrow...Shrek...Big Ugly...WAIT, WHAT. He is far from ugly more like the most handsome man in this godforsaken world.
