Young God [j.valeska]

three

Freya

"F-Freya?" Rosa gasped, bewilderment stricken across her face. We both stared at each other for what felt like centuries, yet it had only been a minute. She broke the tense eye contact and immediately picked up my fake file from the ground, trying to look distracted as she went over to her desk.

But I couldn't stop staring at her; I was in awe. This had to be a set up, someone has clearly done this on purpose. Somebody is actually head fucking with me right now and I can't believe it. She's actually here. And she talked to me, after all these weeks of nothing... she said my name. I've missed her so much and I've imagined so many different scenarios of what I'd say to her if I ever saw her again. And now that I'm in this situation, I had no clue what to say to her.

Should I apologise? But what for? I hadn't done anything wrong. All I did was confess my attraction to her and she was the one who left me in the dark. How should I start this conversation?

Then it hit me like a ton of bricks and I started to feel extremely embarrassed and very self-conscious. Therefore, I looked away from her and down to those ugly shoes I was wearing. I couldn't peer back up at her: not anymore, not ever again. I suddenly felt naked and alone and I really didn't want to be in this room anymore. I needed to leave. Now.

And that's what I do.

Well, try to do.

Vigorously trying to pry the door open, I couldn't manage to do such a simple task due to my erratic breathing and hazy mind. I couldn't get out of here and I needed to get out! All I kept thinking about was that I was in danger and I needed to leave, before I start to panic even more. A hand was placed onto my shoulder and I stopped my actions immediately, but I still felt very tense.

"Freya, please take a seat or I'll have to get assistance." I heard Rosa say calmly behind me. I shake my head frantically and she sighs, gently grabbing my hand to lead me to the couch. I lamely let her and she lightly pushed my shoulders down to encourage me to sit, in which I do. She sits next to me and crosses her arms.

"Freya Marshall? Really? What are you doing? You don't belong here." she questions me. But I don't believe her. Maybe I do belong to be here. Maybe I'm just like everyone else here... She patiently waits for me to answer her, whilst I tried to calm myself down.

When I finally felt okay again I answer her: "I'm doing a job." I spoke lowly, looking anywhere but at her. I know she's going to give me that look. And I despised it – I hated it when she judged me for doing this. It always made me feel terrible and guilty. I've told her why I do this so many times that I've lost count, and she still couldn't understand. But at the same time, I didn't expect her to comprehend why.

"Who?" she tried to press for an answer, but I wasn't going to give it to her. It's classified information and if The Unknown knew I was uttering this to anyone (even family or friends) she'll kill them. Trust me, she's threatened me enough for many years and it's practically drilled into my mind.

"I can't tell you that information." I reply and I heard her groan. I wondered why she was even in Arkham herself and decided to turn the other question on her, "what are you doing here?" I ask, still not looking at her.

"I already told you." she sighs and continues, "I got a job here a few weeks ago, but that was when you-"

"I don't want to talk about it!" I snap, looking at her. She sighs and rubs her temples, shaking her head at me. I knew she was disappointed in me and in all honesty, I was too deep down. If my Dad knew what I did, I think he'd hate me forever. I'd hate me forever too.