Chapter Twenty» The Man With The Gun

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I was awake.

I knew I was awake, I was living, yet at the same time I was dying. At bottom of my heart, I was crumbling. Slowly, little by little. My life was escaping, lurking away from me, and all I could do was stare.

Laying against the soft mattress. My gaze remained transfixed on the ceiling. The round swirls against the white interior remaining the only light, in such darkness. Sighing softly, I tried massaging my temples. Trying to soothe the pain, yet it was no use.

The pain wouldn't go.

Glancing at the clock, it striked Half Nine in the morning. Indicating Mariam would soon be coming. Even though she had a key for herself, I took it upon myself to greet her every morning. She really was a gem.

Knowing I'd soon need to get up, a low sigh escaped my lips. Dreading everything. No matter how much I tried, I couldn't deny that life still continues. Even if I felt my heart shattering last night, I knew the feeling wasn't reciprocated. It was an illusion. A Surreal facade for me to think anything otherwise.

Omar will always be Omar. No one can change him, then what made me think I could.

Blocking just the sound of his name in my head. My legs carried me towards the bathroom, avoiding to glance at the mirror. Knowing, I wouldn't like the result.

Splashing cold water on to my face. Small droplets fell on to my dress. The dress from last night, that I forgot to change. Just even glancing at it, my skin crawled wanting to rip it off me.

He got it for me.

Walking out of the bathroom, after repeating my routine consisting of brushing my teeth, and  brushing my hair and applying a little bit of eyeliner. I found myself holding a white dress with floral printing on it.

Taking the dress off from my last night, it felt as though I could breath again. I felt free.

Pulling my long hair in a loose bun, I found myself stepping out of the room. Walking down the eerie quiet hallways, no sound of life could be heard except those of my soft breathing. Intaking a hesitant breath, I walked down the stairs and walked down the the large hall, in to the kitchen.

The sound of cutlery and the stove igniting, indicated that Mariam had already come. Not bothering to glance up. Knowing my eyes would be red and puffy from last night.

I walked in to the kitchen feeling my dress zip go down. I hate these stupid dress zippers. Who even invented them.

I thought bizzarly, feeling an odd sensation called Hunger. Man, I could eat a whole lamb right now. Perks of not eating at dinner. I thought greedily.

" Mariam, could you do my zip please. I can't reach for it" My hesitant voice spoke, as I turned around. Awaiting for the woman.

A heavy silence fell around me, causing me to rethink my suggestion. Maybe Mariam thought I'm being a weirdo for asking her such thing, though last week she insisted that she'd braid my hair. Which was adorable, if I admit myself but asking someone to zip your dress is very different.

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