DICHOTOMY™

• TRIGGER •

Her nerve now started wavering when she realized she was digging her own grave trying to mock him involuntary. From there,

Her eyes widened and finally fell on the ground. She was fidgeting a little.

Not enough.

The president snickered on the sudden shift in her esteem. He won, again.

Alexandra was vehement of denying him any sort of gratification from this pathetic victory. She was still standing tall, only now her face was nullified into nothingness.

She nodded quickly, "Please call me if you need something. I shall be in my office." she said, hesitantly.

"Were you sick or in panic? Are you still?" his gaze lingered on her now timid form. He was enjoying the act to the brim. She gazed around the whole hall, as if her eyes were searching for something.

Alexandra knew this was a rhetoric. He knew. Yet he asked to see her helpless. To see her not being able to answer the question.

"I'll be in." she tried to force a little smile, but she couldn't face him anymore and paced her feet back.

As she arrived in her chamber, she kept her hands carefully behind her back. Her breathing was returning to normal, her heart beat beginning to slow down now.

Inhaling a fresh breath in, she closed her eyes plopping down on the floor. Her back pasted on the inside face of the door. Cautiously, she locked the door behind him when she crouched.

He had made a mess of her. She felt exhausted. Even before she was made a mess of by a man. It did not end up well.

Symptoms were resurfacing. He was a trigger.

As soon as she left him, the voices in her head crawled out like centipedes.

Kill him. Kill him. He quietens us. Take your pen. Take that knife. Stab him.

You don't even know his name. Stupid girl!

"No! ", she screamed covering covering her ears. "No! No! No! Go away! You are not real. I am not going to hurt anyone." They were right. Her pen was just in her pen stand. Her knife still sat in her lunchbox, at the edge of the drawer. Close to where her chair was. She always kept such weapons close. They could chop through flesh and bone.

She kept it ready, always with her. But she did not want to . . . . hurt anyone.

She . . . . she never did. That day too, she never meant any of it when she killed them.

Stupid Alexandra . . . You can't do it! One day you will! You will give in to your urge!

"No!", she screamed, her fingers pulling and tugging at her hair harshly now, her face was red and flushed with tears. "Go away! Leave me alone!"

She shuddered and gritted her teeth on the ground. The more she whimpered and pulled her scalp, the more noisier these voices became. Bile rose up in her throat. Her insides felt burning with acid.

But those insolent voices kept on clashing and banging inside her head, until there was a cacophony yelling in her head. A busting headache gripped her skull so tight that she wanted to bang her head in a wall.

She did not even know whether she was shouting or whimpering in pain, was still crouching on the ground of walking to her chair seeing or blind, living and breathing or was just a pile of flesh and bones as her soul steered away into empty space - shouting in some dark place.

She soon heard footsteps tapping into the office beside hers. The gates closed, elevators sounded going down. She looked pointily and blankly at the wall on the other side of which was his chamber. Still frowning without a trace of stability on her face. Until the voices quietened down again, as if afraid to face that man, until they left.

Her face spelled total chaos. Her lips were quivering, face was wet with tears, and jaw felt heavy. Her tongue felt too small for her mouth. She was so disheveled that she did not know whether she was still sane or not. She was breaking down, again.

He was the real trigger she had to stay away from. On one hand, he quietened and tamed her voices like a skillful ringmaster, on the other hand the voices made her want to end him.

She knew nothing about him. So, she was no rightful person to kill him. However much she loathed him, she did not want to kill him.

The moment that pin - drop silence was re - established as he liked on his private floor, she sneakily tucked away the knife back into the topmost drawer, where there was a low probability of her short height reaching.

She had no memory of having taken them out.