Opus Dei

Five

I want to take a second to thank the amazing @MyLuckyNumb for the beautiful cover she made for this story! Thank you baby girl, you're amazing!

Also, I want to apologize for taking longer to post this chapter. I made it a bit longer to make it up.

The picture above shows a ballroom similar to the one I depicted, as a visual.

Lots of love!

-Anne-

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People come and go out of our lives. Just like experiences, we learn from them and then we let them go. However, some chose to stay. Not necessarily by presence but by impact. Vincent Castellano came into my life by accident, recently. His impact on me was more powerful than I could've imagined. I always knew, but never actually experienced. I've heard of goose bumps at the touch of a hand, but I never experienced. I've heard of people who rule the world from behind closed doors, but I never met. I've heard of people so dangerous the devil himself fears them, but I never met. I've heard of sexual attraction, but I never felt.

I can remember that night clearly, each specific second of it. How he made every nerve in my body bloom with life on the highway, how he caged me in the elevator and made me tingle in places I never knew I could, that kiss... that kiss has been on my lips for two weeks and it won't go away. That kiss offered me the capacity to realize that maybe not every novel I read was fiction, that maybe it is possible for people to feel alive at the touch of someone else. It was weird, it was not me. Ashley D'úbervilles does not kiss some type of mass control freak murderer. And she certainly doesn't like it. It was the booze from the club making me feel things that weren't actually happening.

The only accurate thing was that framed sign, which meant what it meant and even though I wish it did, time won't just erase that out of my mind. It will always be there, painfully reminding me that we are smaller than ants and that there are people who step on us on a daily basis yet we don't do anything to stop them. It is so frustrating to think about, how there are so many things we deserve to know, so many things they hide from us, so many things they do to us. I remember reading an article when I was in college, about a member of the Opus Dei who somehow managed to get out of that awful place. Of course, the guy didn't mean anything, he was just some lame guard that heard them talk every now and then, but nothing too relevant compared to what they are actually doing. This guy wrote an article about how his time with them was, and a phrase stood out to me, and I still remember it until this very day,

"The average human wouldn't be able to use his imagination. No, we are not developed enough. Our brain can not even imagine what they do. We don't even know 1% of it all, we don't even want to. Because once you start getting bits of this information you either go suicidal or you go insane."

Here I am, two weeks later after that happened, at my desk, thinking about all the theories on the subject I ever heard. The name Castellano never came out, not a single time. A few days after that night I Googled his name, expecting all kinds of satanic and demonic results. Instead, I got Forbes, and a million articles about how he is the best in his branch, how he deserves every penny of every million he has. People don't judge him, people don't know. Hell, I don't even know. All I can do is assume based on a fucking painting placed on damn wall. And on those eyes, that are the coldest shade of grey I have ever seen. Those eyes that know so much, yet show so little.

Deciding that it is best for me to put all that behind me, I get back to work. It is going to be hard, one does not simply meet someone like that and forgets about it. It's history, it's our world, it's...too much for me. I should try and move on, it was an experience. One I will never forget, one that I will remember just like I remembered the ghost stories Kendall and I used to tell at night. Such a beautiful one.