The Echoes of Rivalry & Ruin (The Acamancy Series I)

Chapter 18: Inside the Mind of Paxxon Philips

Upon departing from my mother's office, I am left with a sense of defeat. It was never my intention to deceive Emalyne; I had anticipated that my mother would consent to visiting Aunt Violet this weekend. However, she has instead asserted that she is too unwell to travel. I cannot remain on campus and risk an encounter with her. Even if I occupy my time in other secluded locations or spend the entirety of the next 54 hours in my dormitory until I am scheduled to return to campus, numerous variables pose a risk. Consequently, I gather my belongings and proceed to the condominium located at the edge of town, a fact known only to my mother. She continues to manage the family's finances and permits me to maintain my sole haven of solitude and security.

Two hours, a Buy-to-Ride, and a trip to the shops later, I am carrying my items for the weekend up the stairs to the fourth floor. I purchased enough to satiate my hunger for two days and nights, and to replenish the toiletries I recall running low on my last escapades of escape. I managed to make a simple spread for mealtime before removing some reading from my bag. I attempt a few pages of the soothing comfort read, but I realize it's no use. My muscles are too tense, my mind too occupied, my head throbs, my eye twitches, my hands ache from the tension in my muscles, it's a tell-tale sign of what's coming. I am forced between the decision of readying myself to allow the episode to occur and running through technique after technique I have attempted and yet to perfect to avoid said episodes.

The mind wandering gets worse first....

There we sat beneath the willow tree of my solitude. Emalyne rested against my chest, and I could perceive the rapid beat of her heart, the blood coursing through her veins. I find it difficult to articulate why I do not experience the same emotions. I was aware that she could serve as my salvation, my personal form of therapy and alleviation from my episodes. I had intended to find solace in her presence to mitigate the frequency and intensity of these episodes, hoping that one day our lives together could remain untainted by my own afflictions. However, as she shifted away from me, I felt not only the loss of her warmth but also the diminishing hope that this solution might be attainable. I granted us both a moment of solitude to gather our thoughts before I reached for her warmth and sense of safety, reclaiming them as my own. I reached, and despite my efforts, it seemed insufficient; I drew her closer until she nearly occupied my lap. My mind and body, perpetually at odds, seemed to engage in an unending rivalry. As my choice of companionship brought my thoughts some degree of peace, my body, as is customary, betrayed me; it tensed in reaction, and my heart rate quickened. The blood surged within me, pooling in the one area I had hoped to avoid during my interaction with Emalyne—my trousers. While she remained situated across my lap, I shifted my weight slightly to obscure the evidence of my arousal and directed her gaze as far north as I could manage without drawing attention or revealing my current predicament.

As I become increasingly aware of Emalyne once again becoming engrossed in her own thoughts, my concerns and reflections intensify. "Can she perceive the tension within my groin against the zipper of my trousers?" "Why do I feel powerless in the face of the tension that pervades my body and mind?" I am apprehensive that Emalyne may form a negative impression of me and my capabilities as a lover, should she sense or discern my involuntary responses to the simplicity of her touch against my legs and chest. I do not consider myself an inexperienced lover; while I have yet to experience the complexities of love, engaging in intimate relationships is not outside the realm of my previous experiences. Recently, however, such encounters have not been a feature of my life. By my own decision, the roster of potential companions is ample, yet my capacity and eagerness to engage have been notably constrained of late. I have allowed the convolutions of my mind to overshadow any desires I may harbor. Although this period of abstinence is not as unjustifiable as one might assume for a man of my age, I find myself feeling profoundly lonely and in desperate need of companionship. However, my yearning is not for fleeting encounters as might be expected from other males of twenty-one; rather, I seek companionship for my intellect and spirit. I long for a friend—someone who can comprehend my inner turmoil and aid me in achieving a sense of acceptance, rather than remaining in a state of solitude. This is why I have chosen to extend the invitation to Emalyne, opening both my sanctuary and my thoughts in the hope that she may fill the voids in my existence and satisfy my deeper yearnings.

I perceive Emalyne experiencing a sense of relaxation, leading me to deduce that she is returning to the present moment alongside me. In an effort to validate my assumption, I examine her facial expression, only to discover that she appears to be scrutinizing my features in a similar fashion. I observe a fleeting look of surprise and witness her lips parting in a gasp, indicating that she is in search of reassurance. My interest in her transcends the superficial; I recognize the necessity of providing her comfort, for any failure to do so may jeopardize my potential to secure her assistance as a partner in my pursuit of salvation. It is imperative to clarify that my intentions are purely for her benefit, devoid of any self-serving motivations stemming from the exploration of her lips with my own. Emalyne's kisses are tentative, revealing her uncertainty, and I find myself perplexed by the source of her hesitation. She is undeniably captivating, possessing a breathtaking beauty complemented by lips as soft as silk; my expertise in fine textiles only enhances my appreciation for her. Her taste is delightful, complemented by a sweet fragrance. As our intimate exchange progresses, I sense her emotional barriers beginning to dissolve, as she opens herself not only in our kisses but also to the prospect of a shared companionship, allowing her thoughts and feelings to unfold.

I have to break free of her gasp and her soft lips several times to regain control of my composure. I would not want to place her in a position of uncomfortable vulnerability. I would not like to let on to how desperately my body desires more contact, how my pants are stretching at the seams. I engage her in mindless conversation and create false stories of my days, before allowing myself to take possession of her mouth again. As this game of give and take continues on I find myself more or less unable to ease my tense and purify my drifting thoughts. I have no choice but to remove the risk of taking advantage of her and her virtues by eliminating myself from the equation. I walk her back to her dorm and depart from solitude on my own. I take a few days to compose myself before I am able to face her again. I am losing control of everything in my life. My perfectly fabricated plan of a brief absence in a neutral location to reset my mind and my composure was foiled.

This is not just about Emalyne; it never has been and never will be. I thought involving her would be the force of nature needed to shake up my scattered and broken mind. It appears I was, as always, mistaken and the aid of another is simply not enough to undo the damage, long done but the past.

My thoughts drift aimlessly until they can no longer extend their reach. I have lost all remaining sense of control. My body quakes as tendrils emerge forcefully from the palms of my hands, causing me to writhe on the ground. I dislodge portraits, trinkets, China, appliances, furnishings, and any other objects within the grasp of my expanding vines. My ability to exert control over these manifestations is no greater now than it was a decade ago; indeed, with the passage of time and increasing pressure, the situation appears to have only intensified. I continue to writhe in agony, tension coursing through my body, my eyes twitching, and my muscles spasming. I lack dominion over my mind, my physical form, or the tumultuous creation that results from their interplay. I tightly shut my eyes, hoping for this ordeal to conclude more swiftly than it did on the previous occasion.

I awaken drenched in a cold sweat, realizing that several hours have elapsed since I last checked the time. I am uncertain how much of that duration was consumed by my errant thoughts, my emotional disarray, and my recovery from the chaos that ensued. I allow time for proper blood circulation to return to my extremities, gently stretching my taut, aching muscles, and rising slowly in an effort to regain my balance. I struggle against my impulses, exerting every ounce of the limited power at my disposal to resist the headache, nausea, and dizziness that invariably follow an episode. I rise to my feet to assess the damage wrought by my inability to govern my mind or body.

After several hours tick by, filled with restoration, repair, replenishment, and attempted resolution to further occurrences of these episodes, I have come to the conclusion that this condo is as hopeless as I remain. I realize of course that my invention to use Emalyne to attempt to resolve my own personal problems is inexcusable. But despite this I cannot justify discontinuing my interaction with her, and my attempts to make her a piece of the resolution. It is not purely as intended, not that I even believe that solely was my intention at all. My mind, though broken, does not cause a pure break of my heart, and incapability to experience emotions for motives unrelated to my desire to resolve my trauma. I desire companionship, I desire love and understanding. I desire Emalyne.

I continue my weekend in solitude, perfecting my plan to resolve the conflict and tension with Emalyne that I created with my required distance. I cease to be a grand gesture type of individual; I shall not diminish what little sense of self remains just to attempt to woo a girl. Though I do require a way to prove not only my remorse, but my intentions to not cause such feelings again.