Fighting to be Perfect

Chapter Three : Life Changing

Chapter Three

Written: Feb. 6, 2012.

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       The plane ride took longer than I thought it would.  Not that I minded.  Every second on the plane was time I spent relaxing and just enjoying the solitude; enjoying that I wasn't at a conference.  Once we'd boarded the plane, I'd made calls to people who were friends of friends and eventually found out when the meeting for Maybelline and John's murder was.  I had exactly a week.  Next Saturday. 

       Thankfully, I'd only have to stay in town for this conference for four days, then I had a month off for summer.  So after the conference is over, I'll fly out to Washington, D.C. where the meeting is being held.  Mother won't be happy, but I'm a grown woman and I can do as I please. 

       Conferences are long tedious meetings that I despise.  I am forced to go, to attend every meeting that the government says I must go to, even if I'm not needed there.  A couple of months ago, I attended a meeting about steak.  I don't know how that pertains to beauty, unless they are creating a face regimen made out of the meat, which they weren't. 

       I sighed as a flight attendant came on over the intercom announcing we were about to land.  I looked around at my surroundings slowly.  I'd been on the plane for at least twelve hours and I hadn't paid any attention to the other occupants. 

       The man sitting beside me was sleeping quietly.  His head was rested back and he had a book rested in his lap. I chuckled softly.  He must have fallen asleep while reading.  His brown hair was disheveled and sticking out in many different directions.  My ingrained sense of perfect styling wanted to run my fingers through his hair, straightening the fly aways. 

       On outside appearances, my face was calm and happy, not betraying the yearning I felt inside.  the only movement I allowed was a twitch of my fingers.  I glanced down at the book in his lap.  I felt my eyebrows rise in surprise.  The man was reading The Hunger Games.  I doubt I would have been more surprised if I found him with a tutu on.

       The Hunger Games had long since been in the past, forever to be remembered as one of the most popular books and movies of its time.  I hadn't seen anyone reading it.  Ever.  In fact, they had most of the books stored in a museum, as if they were relics. 

       I've dreamed of reading them, but I'd always thought it'd be impossible to get my hands on a copy.  Now that I was Ms. Flawless, I could probably ask and get at least a hundred copies, not that I wanted that many.  This man sitting beside me must either be very powerful or very rich.  I sighed as I leaned back into my seat and buckled my seat belt. 

       I reached over and tapped the man on his shoulder, waking him up from his sleep.  He blinked slowly, and I gazed in wonder at his eyes.  I'd never seen anyone with those color eyes before.  He looked over at me then, settling his lavender eyes on my blue ones. 

       My heart slowed in that instance and my breath caught.  I could have sworn everyone on the plane disappeared, it was just me and him flying together.  It was a moment.  A moment I hope I would never forget.  I stared at him and he stared back, searching, it seemed, to the depth of the other's soul.  In a moment, my life had changed, and I knew I would never forget this man, even if I never saw him again. 

      He was the first to speak, his voice deep and resonating.  "Yes?"  I tried to steady my mind, to develop at least one coherent thought.  I shook my head slightly and snapped back to my confident mind. 

       "We are about to land, I just thought I'd tell you so you could buckle up." I said, smiling up at him, as he was a bit taller than me, and indicating his seat belt.  He smiled warmly back at me, making my heart flutter.  Stop. You aren't a school girl anymore.  You don't need silly crushes, especially on a stranger.  "Thank you." He said, and with that, he turned away from me and buckled up.  

       I didn't want to look away, but common courtesy forced me to turn my gaze onto the seat in front of me.  I only allowed myself quick little glances out of the corner of my eye of the mysterious purple eyed man.  He stared solemnly ahead, never once looking at me the rest of the flight.  When we landed, he just stood up, grabbed his bags and walked away, not once glancing at me or even acknowledging me.

       I sighed and stood up, grabbing my own things.  My mind racked itself, looking for something I'd done or said that would upset the man.  Maybe he just gets grouchy after he wakes up. My mind supplied.  I dismissed the thought with a shrug.  Whatever the reason, the man was gone now, never to be seen again.  I didn't even know his name.

       After riding to the hotel in a limo, I sat on the bed, staring blindly at the wall with the basic wallpaper covering.  I'd thought this same thought just days before.  My life was just a big circle.  A big, boring circle.  Lying down on the bed, I drifted in and out of sleep.  Different images would flash through my mind, causing me to wake up; the nightmare I'd had the previous night, my mother's face twisted with a sardonic grin... the man with the purple eyes.  

       His was a current appearance.  I'd either see him with the slight smile on his face, or the solemn look he had before he left.  I didn't mind, as long as I was seeing him.  His face could have been red with rage for all I cared. The last image I had of him before waking up was a new image.  His eyes were filled with love and his hand was settled on my cheek. 

       I was awake now, and there was no way I was going to be able to fall back asleep, not with his face in my mind.  I rolled over, looking at the green digital numbers on the clock.  I groaned internally.  2:17... Sitting up, I pushed my hair out of my face and looked around the dark room.  A lamp that was sitting on the desk shone softly, illuminating what looked like a place card.  I tried to think back to when I walked into the room, if I remembered seeing it there.

       I stood up slowly, eyeing the paper as if it were going to pounce at me at any time.  I picked it up and opened it, breaking the tape that had sealed it shut.  I scanned the paper, taking in every detail that was there, which wasn't much.  I read the poem in my mind slowly, the red letters written in beautiful calligraphy literally popping off the stark white of the paper.

Roses are red,

violets are blue,

maybe next week,

maybe next year,

I'll be coming for you.

       I felt my blood run cold.  This wasn't just a letter.  This was a threat.  And it stated pretty clearly that my life was on the line here.  It could be another year before he killed me, and that goes before saying that he doesn't get caught.  But then again,  I could be next.

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