Gwendolyn,Get Your Gun🚬

Chapter 10-Zubizaretta

The journey to self begins with a burning realization of truth and a sudden amplified disposition of who you truly are. One offhandedly made hurtful yet candid comment by a loved one, one extemporaneous look in the mirror and, unintendedly, you see yourself. It is then you realize that your mind has subliminally been your greatest foe, for, in a bid to mask you from the searing verity of life's onerous cruelty, it has left you unguarded you against life's excruciating woes.

Gwendolyn had developed a new awareness about herself. She no longer saw the world through rose colored glasses. She was no longer the guileless, impressionable and naïve little girl she had been. A few days in a strange man's grasp, and the blinds life had placed over her eyes had peeled off.

She sighed as her feet sunk into the tigerskin rug of the hallway she was treading upon. Asunción was leading her to meet Michelangelo as was instructed. In her hand was the writing tablet and a bottle of water. Asunción had washed her hair and rinsed her sore arms. She looked upwards, at the panelled ceilings with intricate rhinestone designing and dull chandeliers. She sighed again and thought of her mother, whose dove gray eyes alone had lit up her life, whose dove gray eyes she would never see again.

"We're here, "Asunción said. They'd stopped in front of a large wooden door, painted red. Gwendolyn was less frightened than she'd expected herself to be. She frowned slightly. It would seem that nothing stirred her fear anymore. "Now remember,"continued Asunción, "you mustn't make eye contact with him. There's a myth, Gwendolyn, about Michelangelo. Some say his eyes are of a rare breed; they contain a potent and portent ability to make you speak the truth. Like they were soaked and simmered in truth serum."

She let go of Gwendolyn's hand and pushed her forward, slightly.

"Be careful, "she mouthed, as she retracted backwards slowly. "Be careful, Gwendolyn."

Gwendolyn watched her till she vanished from the hallway, a slight tremor crawling up her skin. She let out a shaky breath and lifted her hand to knock. The voice came before her fist reached the door.

"Come in, little girl. Save my time. "

She froze, drops of sweat forming under her armpits. Shifted the pad from one hand to the next, and cautiously opened the door.

It was like stepping into a horror novel. The room glowed red, like the embers of a burning coal. She could see two shelves on each wall, high as mountains and saturated with books upon books. In the middle of the room sat a large table, a revolving chair behind it.
She could see his figure.Could make out the beard, and the muscles. But couldn't see his face.

"Sit. "

She moved fully into the room, closed the door gently behind her, held the pad in both hands and walked demurely to the table. She looked at him. She could make out his face now. His eyes were as black as his hair, watching her every move.

She sat.

He smiled, a white slash against his dark face.

"You must be scared, Little Gwendolyn, am I right? Wondering what part of hell you're in. Wondering why you're here."

He stared at her for a moment, then chuckled. Moved the chair closer to his table, and pressed a button on it.

Lights flooded the room, blinding her for a nanosecond. Her irises adjusted in less than that.

His face was in full view now.

His hands rested on the table, then formed a triangle as he joined them together under his chin.

He looked at her for a long moment, the silence between them so pronounced that she could hear the celerity of her heartbeat.

"Do you know who I am? " he finally asked.