The Cursed Beauty (BEYNIKA) [ON HOLD]

Chapter 13: {The Photographer And The Growing Divide}

The morning arrives far too soon, a slow, creeping thing that drapes over me like a shroud. I slept for way too long, yet I still felt as exhausted as I was yesterday, or maybe even more than that. I don't know what is wrong with me, I can't even pinpoint the source of all this taking place, and it's really fucking with me. I'm used to always having the answers to anything I could wonder about, and now... I'm just clueless about it all. Fuck. I forced my heavy limbs to move towards the bathroom where I showered. Even that task felt fucking impossible to get done for me now, my breath was coming out unevenly, it felt thin. My head felt like a numbed down... thing on my shoulders, it's weird... I don't know how to explain this anymore, I just don't feel like myself anymore.

I wrapped myself up in a black fluffy towel, and stood in front of the foggy mirror, wiped the cloudiness off of it, and got startled by my own reflection. What is happening to me? I look worse than I did the nigh before. My skin, usually rich and warm, has paled to something sickly, almost translucent under the light. My eyes, always sharp with focus, look darker, duller—like the life within them is slipping away. And that is alarming to me, because what the hell is happening to me? I almost punched the mirror out of frustration, but I refrained myself from doing such, I ain't gonna gain a thing out of that, except shards of glass in my fucking hands, and I work with them. So, yeah, no.

Whatever this is feels like a slow, merciless thief, robbing me of my soul's vitality hour by hour. And I wish I was exaggerating, or being dramatic, but I knew in my gut that I was right. I also wish I could tell Onika about this, but I just can't seem to get the words out of my mouth. If I try to do so, a lie comes out, one that is concealing the far, ugly truth, and I hated that. I press my fingers to my cheek, watching how the skin doesn't bounce back as quickly as it should.

I shake my head, breaking myself out of the trance I was in. I don't have time for this shit for real.

I get out of the bathroom, do my skincare routine, put on a nude makeup look, and thank God for makeup, I tell you! I don't look as dead as I did before, and that reassured me a bit as I put my outfit on. It was a denim on denim outfit, from head to toe, with a burgundy purse, and cheetah printed heels, with gold accessories. I left my curly hair out to dry on its own with the weather.

I had a long ass day ahead of me. I was going to work, I can't just sit idly by and let whatever fucking trance in consume me. I refuse to not fight against all this, even if I don't know what it is yet. I needed to move, to do something productive, but most importantly... I needed to keep myself from thinking too hard about the gnawing sense of emptiness blooming inside me, in my chest, in my head, and whenever I think of Onika. Speaking of her, I was planning to avoid the fuck out of her, I don't know why, but all I know is whenever she's near me, all those ugly feelings intensify. And even if my heart longs for her, for me to be near her, for her to hold me, and for her to fuck me senseless, my body says otherwise, and all of me is damn near repelled by her. And that's fucked up. I know it's wrong, but I gotta listen to what my body is telling me, right? Yeah.