The brightest, greenest eyes look back at me. I run my eyes over his face. Black hair, gelled back with a strand falling in his eyes. A straight nose, and beautiful pale lips. Fair skin without a blemish in sight. A big muscular body, fitting his suit perfectly. He's flawless.
He steps towards me, there is a predatory glint in his eyes. The crowd parts as he walks. Stepping in front of me, he holds out his hand.
"Care to dance?" I hear his baritone voice asking me. I nod my head, my eyes never leaving his. He has me caught in a trance.
He takes my hand, and leads me to the dance floor. No one is on the dance floor, leaving us to ourselves. He holds my hand in his right. I put my other hand on his strong shoulder, as he puts his hand on my waist.
We sway to the beat of the music, no words needed. I feel safe, like nothing can hurt me. With him, it's like I have no problems. Like I've never been abused and treated like a slave. I have felt like this in a long time.
"You don't talk much, do you?" His voice ask me quietly.
"No... Today is the first time I've talked in a long time." I whisper my voice surprisingly soft for not being used in so long.
"Why is that?" He smiles gently at me.
"Reasons." I smile my answer.
"One day, I'll know." He tells me seriously.
"And one day, I'll tell you." As I say that, he spins me around. A clock comes in my line of sight. Seeing that it's 11:56 already, I gasp. I must go before the spell lifts and he sees the dirty side of me.
Pulling away, I walk off the dance floor. I run through the nearest open door I see, he's yelling for me.
"Come back!" He yells, but his words only makes me run faster. As I run down the stairs, I trip. Fortunately, the only thing that breaks is my mask, right down the middle. I pick up a piece, running to the coach, with my mate yelling at me to please come back. And I want to. Gosh, I want to so bad but I can't. If I do, he'll see me in rags and then he won't want me anymore. I can't let that happen, I need him.
Jumping in the coach, it speeds away. Looking out the window, I see my mate in the dust holding the other half of my mask. I turn around in my seat, not wanting to see the hurt look on his face. My cheeks feel wet. I touch the wetness with my hand and bring it back to see tears on my fingertips.
Somewhere off in the distance, the clock strikes twelve.
***
