So, today is my birthday! I’m turning twenty-six but no one needs to know, right? This will be our little secret! Shush!
I knew I wanted to do a special post for this beautiful day, but I wasn’t quite sure what to write. So there I was writing my new project and I thought, why not? What is better than share with you what I love the most? You know what they say about writing, that we give a part of our soul and I totally agree.
That’s why for my birthday day, I’m giving you a part of my soul. The prologue of my latest project. It's titled Face Cards, but that’s all I'm gonna say about it. The rest you can read on the Prologue.
Feel free to share your thoughts and keep in mind that this is the first rough draft.
Lots of love,
The time to lay my cards on the table had already come. Long before I realized it, long before I was ready. But at this point there was nothing else I could do. I took a deep breath and tried to control my heart’s crazy beat.
Then I entered the room.
He sat at his usual place, on the black, leather chair which he adored. The PC was turned on in front of him, but his hands weren’t on the keyboard. He knew why I asked to talk to him. Deep down he knew we had to be honest with each other.
The time had come.
Too early if you’d ask me. But then again, time seems to fly like a light breeze and I chilled in anticipation. Talking wouldn’t be easy, but I had to let it out, to share it with him or else I would have gone mad.
To be honest, it wasn’t him that made me want to talk. It wasn’t about the person who stood before me or shared my bed. I was never a talker despite how close I was with someone. The reason I had to talk to him was because of the itchiness inside me. Like something snapped and started scratching my guts, prompting me to talk. So I had to let it out of my chest, to feel the freedom of truth.
At least that’s what people say, that speaking the truth makes you feel free, light and happy. Lies are a burden we carry with us, tormenting our soul and ruin us. But honestly, lies were reality for me, it was like breathing. So, how was I supposed to stop breathing? Was I capable to take a deep breath and capture the air inside my lungs?
But the decision had been made so I had to follow the plan. Wasn’t this the way I used to do everything? My kind of plan of course, making sense to anyone but me. Why walk away now?
I dropped my purse on the floor and took off my coat. He stood there watching me, following me with his eyes as I took a glass from the cupboard and placed it under the tap. I let the water ran. Turning my back to him, I drank the water steading my hands from trembling. He shouldn’t see me flinch. No one should see my weakness.
When I turned to look at him again, I was wearing the mask. It was always helpful to be hidden behind a stiff face or deadpan eyes. Sometimes even a broad smile could do the trick. This way no one could see my broken soul, no one could never know the pain I held inside me. No one would ever know.
If you think about it, I was the perfect actor. If this was my job I could easily win a golden globe award. Because my stage wasn’t a movie set or a theater. My stage was the world around me. So this would be an act too and that’s why I wore the mask. Telling him the truth would be nothing else than a part of my play. I had to pretend it was at least, or else the words would stack in my throat. I know because I’ve tried it before.
“Come and sit,” he said and tapped the gray couch next to his chair.
I nodded and placed the glass on the counter. The little tap on the marble sounded like a note. The start of the melody that would accompany me to the greater scene of this play. If this was a movie this would be the part to hold our breaths and goggle our eyes. Some may even scream but very few would cry.
So I sat, looking at him straight in the eyes. Those brown eyes that I’ve come to know so well these last months, the same eyes that looked at me with love and companionship would now be transformed into something else. I didn’t know if it would be hate, disgust or repulsion, but everything would change. Here and now.
And it did. The moment I raised my gun.
It’s fascinating how sudden and fast things can change. The walls we build high up and boost with iron bars, can melt like snow on a sunny day. All that remains can be easily crashed with the touch of a finger. That’s how I felt when the time to talk arrived, but hopefully it lasted only a second. Because like everything important in my life, I was in a tight schedule.
I couldn’t counted the emotions that crossed his face even if I tried. He must have experienced every single one of them, starting with fear. There is not a single soul that will not dread in the sight of a gun. A small black thing with a silencer. My most valuable item.
The worst time though is when the survival instinct kicks in. That is the moment they turn on you. Either thinking they can buy some time or they are truly stunned that it is you who holds the gun. And I was indeed holding the gun, pointing it against his temple, my finger steady on the trigger.
“So,” his voice was calm, the fear vanished or better concealed.
“So,” I repeated, staring at his beautiful brown eyes.
“Should I make a death wish?”
I had the urge to frown but my body was under control. I know he wanted me to ask about his calmness, to start querying him about the way he reacted. But I’ve done this conversation in my mind and I knew how it would end. There was really no point. It would only buy him some time, give him hope for an outcome that would not please him and let the survival instinct take control.
I would never do that to him. Not after the nights we spent together.
Why confuse things when they are so beautifully plain? I have the gun. I’m in control. And I know that in ten minutes my gun will go off.
And it did, right on time with not a second delay.
The sound of my heels echoed through the empty corridor as I made my way to the exit of the building. Every step brought in mind memories of him, but I shoved them all away, to that familiar corner of my mind. There, where I keep all the dark parts of my life.
I placed my hand on the door handle, feeling its cold surface under my gloves. Before I pull it down I shot a glance behind my back.
When I stepped outside, I let myself forget.