"Femi," Heated lips whispered my name as hot arms enclosed around me. "Burn with me."
It was a command I couldn't disobey. Not like I had a choice, but I did burn. Gods, I burned with him.
The fire took us; skin and bone but it was different now. W...
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Breathe out.
I don't know how to feel. I know I'm not hurt, but there's this violent wave of something that stirs under my skin.
Anger? Possibly.
It's a good thing Paul left with his father today to venture into the desert because I know I couldn't handle him today being too wrapped up in my feelings.
I haven't seen Meia since last night and it's probably a good thing I don't see her too after how I reacted last night.
That was probably the shock of it but it had long sunk in now. The sharp smell of orange juice and cinnamon assaults my senses and my stomach recoils.
I wasn't sure where and how Meia had gotten spice into the place but the jar of it was on my desk this morning when I came out of the bathroom. The same spice I was now using to induce visions of my past with no such luck. I stop short of chucking the damn thing across the room.
Of course, when I wanted vision they were nowhere to be found and would later pop up at the most inopportune times.
Running my hand through my hair, I push back my bangs gripping at the roots, my eyes trailing over the vanity stopping on the open book of tales inspired by astrology, specifically the love story of two where most believed the woman to be two faced, kind to her lover—mean to anyone else and though most tried to warn him, he faith was strong in his lover until he caught her in a mean act and shuns her. Only it wasn't her, but her mean twin sister.
The message behind the story isn't lost on me; two faced indeed.
I don't hear the door open but awareness tells me she's in my space. Her words from yesterday come back to me and I chuckle humorously.
"A chatty drunk, you said," I meet her gaze through my vanity mirror. "You also said 'drunken words are the soul's truth'."
Releasing my hair, I cover the spice, putting it with the rest of the toiletries on the vanity tray before rising to my feet and facing her.
Jessica watches me with that intuitive stare of her. "You should know you can't force visions of your past."
"I can try,"
She gives me a soft smile, "she was determined like that too."
"Now you want to talk about her?" I lift a brow.
"Now you know about her," And there's no Paul, she doesn't say. "Yes, you look very much like her."
Her voice is... soulful and tender.
"How close were you to her?"
"She was my other half. My sister in soul and mind, my protector and best friend as I was to her."
Her words rang the bell of realization that my mother and Jessica were what Paul and I were to each other. My anger dimmed only a bit because I could only imagine the pain of losing that person.
