Wounds

This wasn’t the time, nor that place that she wanted to see him.  It has been too long, and she could feel the wounds beginning to crack open.  One look at his face and she knew they would bust.  She stared at her thumbs as they danced around each other, fast, then slow.  She knew he was sitting at his desk, she could hear his chair squeak as he turned.  He always did that.

“So,” he began after he stopped squeaking his chair, “how’s life?”

She jerked her head up to look at him.  The wounds loosened.  She knew they would.  “How’s yours?” she asked.  He put up his hands and looked around the room.  “Stupid question,” she whispered as she lowered her gaze back down to her dancing thumbs.

“I’m serious,” he said as he folded his hands and leaned back, “how have you been?”

She sighed and looked at him, and gripped the tops of her legs.  She could never stay mad at him.  This weakness weakened her wounds’ ties.  She could feel them breaking, letting bits of blood ooze out onto her sensitive skin that was not yet fully healed, even after all this time.  The warmth of the blood chilled her.  It was her reminder that she was weak.  “I didn’t know we were enemies,” she said.

He furrowed his eyebrows.  “I didn’t either,” he responded.

“Well, you know the saying.  The enemy of my enemy is my friend.”

He huffed and tilted his head back.  “You’re not my enemy.  She was just a girl.”  He looked at her.  “And it was just a fling.”

She half smiled and stood up, and brushed off her skirt.  She folded her hands in front of her, and tiled her head.  “And I?” she asked.  He swallowed and looked down, taking a deep breath.  He didn’t answer, but lifted his head and mimicked her half smile.  “Right,” she said as she looked down and shuffled her feet.  She met his gaze once more and glared at him.

“Your condescending tone when I walked in here led me to believe you thought I was weak.”  She could feel the blood trickle back towards her wounds, the ties beginning to unite.  “The same tone was used when you told me about that night.  I see you haven’t lost your memory…or your touch.”  Her skin was no longer sensitive.  She was beginning to feel nothing.  “When I called myself your enemy, and I challenged your idea of me, your old idea of me, you now see that I knew all along how you felt.

And now,” she stopped and stared at him, feeling the last bit of pain that still lingered, “with your deep breath and half smile I can see that you’ve been waiting for the day that I stand up to you, that I become like the girl you always wanted to be with.  But she wasn’t me.  There has always been something about me that you wanted, but it was only that part.  You didn’t want my weakness, and you didn’t want to help me become strong.  Now that I am, you see that I have become all that you ever wanted.”  His eyes grew wide, as well as his smile.

She took one last deep breath and turned her stern lips into a smirk.  “If I wasn’t your enemy before, I’m sure I am now.”  She turned and walked to the door.  “Thank you for providing me with the privilege of giving you the same wounds you gave me.  Too bad mine are all healed, I’m sure you would have liked to compare scars.”  She opened the door and walked out, her wounds closed up and gone.

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