The Parallel Paths

Hatred

ALICE POV

I was back here... again.

This same gloomy meadow.

The wind as soft as ever, a faint whisper against my skin, gently pushing my hair back with tender care.

The grey skies pattered with gentle rain, each drop shifting my awareness more within this realm.

The grass still soft and damp beneath my glowing palms, leaving my hands damp from the mist that hovered above me.

It all felt so real,

Yet—

I was well aware of this dream.

Everything was the same yet that figure in the distance. That wasn't the same from when I had left.

I pushed myself up above the fog, a faint ruffle formed around my shoulders. Immediately, I locked onto that familiar figure..

The darkness of the meadow, I thought about calling her... him? I felt a strange connection, yet the thought of approaching.. made me eerie.

Standing upward now, the wind whispered soft air against my skin. The grass fluttered more rapidly and the rain shifted within the wind. I had always dreamed of this, well I was technically now but—

I had always dreamed of being in such a peaceful remote place, such as this exact meadow. I realize I didn't acknowledge it at first, but now—it gave me a sense of comfort.

I felt an odd connection to it, as if I were drawn to its mysterious black fog and luring void color.

Suddenly, it began stepping closer, its trail of black fog fading into the wind,

a curse of mist.

I flinched yet only watched, my fear growing more uncontrollable leaving me stuck in place. It couldn't hurt me right? Nothing ever happens to me, so why would it hurt me?

Face to face.

Black and white.

Pure and dark.

What could it want?

Why was it terrorizing me in this specific world? The most peaceful of all and it lingered like a burden.

The tension was tingling between us, as if I could actually feel the weight of it, ashes through my fingertips.

...

"Who are you?"

The wind replied instead with a loud gust between us, my eyes now catching a glimpse of my glowing white hair.

I shifted my vision downward. My hands, my body, was that pure white once more, except a singular streak down my finger. It painted a devious flowing black streak, like a paintbrush dipped in water.

I saw in the blurred background, it reaching out. My vision focusing back to it. I flinched, yet didn't pull away.. for that odd connection began to grow strong, too strong for me to pull away.

I braced myself for what would occur. What if I obliterated? Immense pain shot through me? Surely whatever it was doing couldn't have felt pleasing.

Yet once it came into contact, it's as if the world stopped.

It's fingers— a gentle yet powerful sensation across my own, fusing with my own skin. Black and white now a grayish color as we combined.

Its fingers continued, interlocking with mines, continuing its descent down my hand. It was a burning sensation, burning as if my consciousness knew this was bad—

But the sensation.. it felt too good— as if I belonged in this state.

Yet with an abrupt yank, I was pulled away from the touch.

I stumbled onto the soft bed of grass, left in confusion. Nothing was behind me, was it an instinct to pull away?

In front of me, the figure remained.. a blank black emotionless face.. emotionless being.

My hands trembled, followed by my entire body as an immense wave of fear washed over me. Quivering, I lifted my hand into my vision, now both of my hands that same void black.

My eyes widened in fear, my breathing picked up rapidly, yet its voice piercing through my thoughts.

"Don't give in."

—————————————————————————

I was awoken abruptly by the sound of a shatter. I shot upward and darted my blue iris over to the window—

just another ice icicle.

Annoyed, I groaned and rubbed my face, the sleepiness kicking in after my quick awakening. I brushed my hair from my face, its strands fading a lighter color every passing day.

I glanced over to the bedside table, a frosty note left on the pale white stand.

"Come to my office once awake, you know how to get in."

I narrowed my blue orbs, holding the paper tightly within my bare hands. Frost slowly crept up the paper, its thin flakes turning the paper into brittle dust.

I needed to find my gloves.

It was a pain searching the room for them bare hands, my touch would freeze everything and the fact I was stressed wasn't making it any better.

The room was covered in frost once I finally found them under my bed. On my knees I held them, staring blankly. I didn't feel a sense of happiness, relief either— all I could pay attention too was the destruction I had caused around me.

Windows cracked, lights dim, air as cold as zero— was I really this dangerous?

I slid the gloves back onto my frail fingers, then picked my weary body from off the floor. Trembling— drained, I made my way over to her office.

Down the hallways of ice, white and colorless.
—————————————————————————

The door was open, how unusual.