Repetition Compulsion

19.

What sets power apart from other drugs is that it is so easy to (subconsciously) give it up—especially if you believe you can have something stronger yet equally dangerous in return...something like love. 

Sera had never consciously had power, yet she had subconsciously given it up. She had never consciously known what it felt like to have power, but once it was gone, she could feel her body consciously longing for its return. But obviously she couldn't get back the power she had given away...that's not how life worked. She had to learn that the hard way. But then again, she had had to learn most things in life the hard way.

"I am beautiful. I am worthy. I am loved.

I am beautiful, I am worthy, I am loved.

I am beautiful, I am worthy, I am loved."

Sera sat on her living room floor, legs folded with her short arms wrapped around her legs. As she did, she quietly recited a mantra. This was something she hadn't done in a long time, but then again, desperate times called for desperate measures. The mantra did not offer her any strength like she hoped it would. But in a way, it was keeping her grounded and in the moment, so she figured it couldn't hurt to keep chanting.

She was sort of in a conscious trance. She wasn't sad, she just felt used and powerless, and she was mad because she wanted her power back, but had no idea how to go about doing it.

She got up, went to her bedroom and grabbed a gun, a journal and a pen. Those were the only tools that had ever given her power; when she wrote, especially in that particular journal, she was in charge of the words and the narrative, therefore she had the power. When she held a gun, especially that particular gun, she felt powerful because she knew she had the ability to preserve or end life. She got to decide who lived and who died.

She was so wrapped up in her own thoughts that she didn't even hear the knock on the door. But when she finally did, she was so out of it, that her mind didn't even register that it was a knock. She was only just vaguely aware that there was a noise coming from the outside that needed to be stopped. So she didn't even bother to wipe the tears from her face or remove the gun from her living room table. She just strutted over to the door, with the intention of stopping the loud, banging noise.

It was only after she opened the door and saw Abimbola with a goofy, yet arrogant smile plastered on his face on the other side of the door that she was shaken violently out of her trance. 

Suddenly she was aware.

She was conscious and in the moment, and she was immediately reminded that she had plans to go out before Troy came along and did what Troy did best.

****

Abimbola:

The goofy-arrogant smile that was once plastered on Abimbola's sharp facial features dropped as soon as he saw Sera's tear stained face. He had planned on starting the conversation with a cool, quirky opening line, which he only planned on doing because he loved seeing Sera shocked. There was a soft innocence to her that he couldn't quite place his hands on, and he loved playing the devil's advocate by testing her boundaries. But all that disappeared as soon as he saw her face and was reminded of one of the worst days of his life. 

Something about Sera had always subtly reminded him of Tatiana. But on that night, that subtle something was a bit stronger. 

Like the last time he saw her, Sera's face was tear stained, her make-up smudged and her eyes filled with a sadness that seemed too deep for her eyelids to hold.