As Fear Faces (2)

6 Cupid's Love for Whittling

Olympia-
Two columns hold next to the lavender pleaded covers upon the satin duvet. A black pleaded head board with a gold lion head centers itself upon the plush pillows. As a light plum hope chest splits into two spiral shells and a deep purple sheened fabric rest upon it. A portrait of a plump woman draped in a cerulean gown hangs underneath the dark thistle chair. Beneath the art a white fur rug sweeps the floor in a spiral and a large oval mirror fixes itself in front of a white cushioned chair. Above it all a gold chandelier illuminates the vast room and all the colors revive. I nod in gratitude to the man who escorted me here and I close the prodigious door. To the right of the room is a glass door and from there I run. I step to the patio and feel the cool breeze pass through my matted hair. I feel my lips part and a small tug on the corner of my mouth. A thin blanket of snow coats itself over the acres of grass as miles of warm colored trees dig there dark roots into the soil. A Purple Martin perches itself upon the tallest tree and its wings begin to collide with the frozen air. The sky is a white canvas and nothing supersedes it's purity here, even the marble floors. A knock echoes through the room and the same man enters offering me clean clothing which I thankfully accept. I move to the left side of the room and enter the bathroom to unclothe. I unzip my dress carefully to not touch any of the blood, though it's dried it's still frightening. Without the dress on my chest is able to expand and my skin is able to touch air. I step into the glass shower and feel the silk stream of water pour over my blood ridden skin. It trickles over the black stitching and the deep purple bruises that wrap around my whole body. A loud red seeps out of the vertical cut. For many moments I just stand underneath the shower top, the water covering my face and a slump in my back. Another knock arises to the bathroom but I do not respond. I just keep my eyes closed and my nose pointed to the ceiling. I rinse my hair for a third time.

"Darling, it's the Perleth," I hear the voice right outside of the bathroom door and I turn off the water.

I stand wet and unaware of what to do. I wrap the white linen towel around my chest and open the door, seeing the trail of water I left behind me.

"Oh there you are, I was beginning to worry," his voice comes so out like the shower water, so smooth.

"I hope I wasn't a scare," he smiles, his tie has changed to a deep blue and his white shirt has been ironed ridding of that one crease.

"Not at all," my voice spreads through the room softer than what I expected.

"Well, lunch is beginning at 12 and it would be a shame for you to be late," he winks at me his left eye not flinching from the close of the other.

His heels click on the floor as he turns and leaves the room. The feel of his skin lingers on my shoulder from the night he had placed his hand there. Though he enticed such happiness, I see the hardness within Blaine's eyes moments after. The knife that cuts through the woman's chest and lead to her death. The easiness he possessed when killing. It was natural.

I unfold the clothing the man had given me. I return to the bathroom and slip it on. In the mirror I see myself as I am. My lioness self reduced to a frail girl within a white sheer dress. It hangs from my body and moves with motion to carve my protruding ribs. Diamonds are woven through the top of the dress and light catches them when I sway. My eyes meet white flats perched on the hope chest. I look to the mirror again and wring my hair in the sink. I try to think the way Christina does, pinning my hair back and pulling it up. Though I fail in creating something even close to what she can accomplish. I leave it down and begin to stare at my face without makeup. My skins red and pale and under my colorful eyes are purple half circles. I look to the time, 11:49 A.M. It's ever so close.

Blaine-
My room is cold and dark, so familiar and yet it makes my hands shake. This was my home before he sent me off. And I reside in a room that was my own but I am not nostalgic of any aspect. I want to be with Marcela and all the other Unwanteds including Olympia. I miss the nights she had fallen asleep on my couch. I miss seeing the Perleth through a screen not face to face. I miss what it was.

Olympia-
I move among the halls and listen to the silence as if it was that of a symphony. I drag my finger  nail along the glossed walls and feel the coolness it leaves on my finger. When looking to the man I am following, I see his stature is not heightening more than I. He wears black pants and plaid socks, and remains on his left foot more than his right when he walks. His face is coated with a new layer of sweat when we meet the dining area and I can feel mine doing the same.

"What wonderful timing," the Perleth stands from his seat.

Everyone lifts from their seat and greets me. Beginning with Alice. From age or her dire need to keep living has her eyes been coated with a cloudy film. Her peach colored lips commend a simple smile with only the corner of her mouth at muse. When she reaches out her hand to touch mine, her smooth skin loose, from the years, greet my palm. She moves her hand to her hair which falls beneath her chin, so effortlessly. And my eyes move to the next.

She's in a haze of wanderlust or candy consumption, her eyes the same as Michaels open wide, hungry. An eyelash, blonde, sticks beneath her left eye and hangs there ignored. She smiles delivering the sheer sight of a gap between her two front teeth. She releases her hand but it is cold and distracts me as her eyes move to my face to my dress. Ava she repeats for a second time and I know I can never forget.

His cupid's bow makes me think he may as well be the famous archer. As his hair filmed with grease beckons to stay in place. It's dark and remind me of Fishers but his eyes halt the thought from expanding. For they are deep and heavy set. His eyelashes dark and his brow close to his lid. "Ainsley," he says, "I can see us becoming friends." His eyes wrap around my torso and collide with my chest.

I take a seat on the velvet chair, my bottom sinking to the wood of it's whittler. This is where I am to begin.