𝐀𝐓𝐓𝐀𝐂𝐊 𝐎𝐍 𝐓𝐈𝐓𝐀𝐍 | " 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐛𝐞𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐞, 𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭? "
Both trying to understand the
meaning of dangerous attraction,
it was an ongoing rivalry between
two former criminals. Somewhere
amidst vicious Ti...
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ACT TWO ( season 2 )
•••
"Get out."
Voices. They never did seem to go away. No matter how hard she tried. Stuck in her head. Ringing a strident buzz that had her blood coiling. The empty silence in her head drew apprehensive. Cowed and heedful of something so terse. She could never sustain an affable moment. Indisputably never alone. It was a whisper that spaded at back of her head. Lingered on moments she couldn't constrain. A vision. Dream. Reality. Biding to be heard. Sometimes pleading. Begging. Demanding her to listen. Hailing in her skull. It was just always there.
Wake up.
Rustling water lapped in the tiny room. Sounding like a river as it clashed against the cold ceramic sink. She abstained her hands from trembling. Nails wanting to dig in to white porcelain, grip tightening at the sides of the sink, and rein the shudder from her spine going through her body. Droplets of water dripped from her chin. Face soaked and washed clean. The ends of her hair trickling wet. It was cold. Freezing her flesh stiff as the open window billowed the setting air in. She clenched her eyelids shut.
"Stop it."
Wake up.
Her contrivance had always came up blank. Empty. She could never unravel its true intentions. Perplexed of something that she wasn't sure was even there. She wasn't crazy, she was sure of it. It had always sounded so close. Often behind her. Taunting like a shadow that never left. Their distorted tones and shouts hadn't stranded her mind. The pain and often cries of their voices swarmed her head. Until it was the only thing that she could hear in a dream. Nightmare. She'd be damned if she was sick. Not again.
"Please."
Wake up.
Gazing up at the sink mirror, she blinked. Weary. Her eyes trailed through the broken cracks and lines etched on the musing and old surface, noticing the tiny dusts that settled around its jagged edges before finally staring at her reflection. The flickering lightbulb that hung above her head didn't do much to ease the nervous tension churning in her stomach. It was quiet for a moment. A long minute of nothing, clinging onto harrowing quietness. A crease formed between her brows. "Just–"
Stop.
"I'm up!"
Gritted teeth and clenched jaw. Her clutch on the sink tightened. An uneven breath escaped her. Her head fell low once more, hair tickling her cheeks, and falling over her eyes. She watched the water flow. Swirl clear blue down the drain. Hear her pulse beat and thrum. A sigh of irritation wafted in the room. A murmur that clogged up her throat. Tongue dry. Rasping against her mouth like sandpaper, scraping that almost felt like her mouth bled. She swallowed heavily. She repeated more calmly this time.
"I'm up."
Freya.
It never left.
Freya.
It was always there.
Wake up.
She was fine.
"Freya."
Her name against his tongue. A first. It sounded so new. Foreign. Velvet to her ears. Smooth and calm, calling her. There was something that she couldn't decipher in his voice. She froze. Brought back to reality by his tone. Her shoulders tensed. Stiff and bones unmoving. A string of curses erupted in her head, mentally scolding herself for being unaware. Easily distracted that she didn't notice. A wild look settled in her eyes, gaze distant at the running water. Glancing back up the mirror, blue met grey. He called her again.
"Freya."
•••
by ignorance is pride increased those most assume who know the least
