𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐏𝐒𝐘𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐈𝐒𝐓 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐋𝐊𝐄𝐑 𝐌𝐄𝐗𝐈𝐂𝐀𝐍 𝐌𝐀𝐅𝐈𝐀 𝐉𝐄𝐅𝐄.
❝ You will always and forever be Made For My Control Kyra, just as I was designed to be under yours ❞
𝐊𝐘𝐑𝐀 𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐄 𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐓 a woman with pas...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
" the language of eyes needs no translation " Unknown ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
𝐀𝐍𝐗𝐈𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐍𝐄𝐒𝐒, 𝐈𝐓 claws beneath my skin like a beast willing its way out of my body, and while doing so eating me whole. My stomach churns, my hands moist with sweat, while my legs jump up and down, fidgeting on their own under my vanity, hitting the firm edge every now and then.
I'm not a fan of crowded places. I never have been. I hate the thought of many eyes watching, observing, judging, or even analyzing me. It revolts me that under the circumstances that I will be in tonight, all while sober, I have to deal — or at least try to deal — with my crippling anxiety by sucking it up, and showing no sign of it in order to support my best friend and her accomplishments.
The'll be many bodies, acquaintances to make, and people in a crowded fucking room with nothing but each other to entertain and that agitates me more than anything, yet still "I'll be fine." I whisper to myself softly.
"Great even." I mumble under my breath, inhaling a shaky yet somehow stable breath, closing my eyes and rolling my neck to ease out the tension in my shoulders.
The past two weeks since my lunch 'date' with Lyrah and Luna have rolled by fast in a diminish of work and nothing more. Of course the eerie feeling of eyes still follows me everywhere I go — usually between the times I'm coming back home from work. And for now I've done nothing about it. Instead I'm trying my best to keep my mind off of whatever is out there and on whatever I'm doing.
It's stupid, I know, and I could potentially find myself kidnapped or even worse if I'm not quick enough to take action, but like every other time I've tried to swiftly catch my stalker I end up embarrassing myself by meeting the crisp darkness that always surrounds me, or simply just a brick wall.
My tormentor is exceedingly quick and strategic with their intent of making me lose my damn mind.
"You'll be fine," a soft, modulated voice says, repeating my hushed words. My eyes move down to the screen of my phone, and displayed on the rectangular shaped piece of technology is Lyrah's pleasurably decorated face. Full of makeup so timeless it would be hard to look away from. Well not so much now as she's stuffing a few pieces of candy into her mouth, wearing her mismatched pajamas while intensively watching me apply my own bold, elegant glam.
Luna would be on the phone with us too, however with the pressure situated that she helps her other co-workers get everything together and up to standard before the guests' appearances, she had decided to leave home much earlier, and instead left me a voice message of consolation.
"I know," I reply to Lyrah with a tone of uncertainty, dabbing the bristle of the brush against my eyelids, the gesture soft, but hard enough to apply dark glittery brown eyeshadow to my skin.
