In Her Shadows
Prologue.
Is it possible to easily separate an addict from its addiction?
Or an obsessed person from its obsession?
Or a crazy person from the thing that drives him crazy?
Crazy to the point of abduction.
Crazy to the point of eliminating anyone standing in their way.
Love is instant for some people or takes time for others,
But addiction in its contrast, it usually starts slow, letting itself settle in your mind, body and slowly your soul.
Sometimes, It may not follow the Pattern
it could start in an instant,
and usually with something that could leave a remarkable treasure in the form of a memory
memories being the sign of your past addiction, your obsessions, your possessions, no longer being a part of you anymore
this could only mean Two things.
A - you've gotten a control over your crazy.
Or
B - there's no more of that something that got you addicted to it in the first place
ONE
A cool tingling sensation wakes me up from the deep slumber that I find myself in.
my eyes adjust to the bright sunlight surpassing the big floor to ceiling windows, hitting my face,
my head throbs in pain almost as if I was hit by a truck, and I raise my fingers to touch my throbbing forehead.
Only to find a thick and soft piece of fabric covering it.
Another wave of pain hits me but this time, I see bright lights approaching me before everything goes dark at the back of my head.
I crane my neck to look around and find myself in a complete new surrounding.
The Rich and almost professional aesthetic of the room gives nothing about the identity of who the room belongs to.
something catches my eyes, something that may sound absurd
it's me in the paintings that covers the Entire wall facing the bed.
strangely, I don't remember ever posing for any of such pictures or paintings.
A knock at the Door snap my focus to the man who stands with his arms Crossed across his chest, his structured face giving nothing away.
Nino
Your home, but I don't expect you to remember that.
Nino
Your Husband. I don't expect you to remember that either.
well, talk about being rude. I really Married this guy? I'm hating his guts already.
silvia
And when did we marry?
there's a pause when he lets himself into the room, and settles himself on the bed, facing me, his hand reaching to mine.
Nino
When I held you captive.
TWO
I watch her face loss its colour as the frown deepens in disbelief.
Or worry. Or maybe all of it.
whatever it is, I'm happy that it's working.
from how I saw her back then for the first time, and now, even when she's lost her memories, the fire and straightforward attitude of hers hasn't changed.
Her trembling hand, though smaller compared to mine, fit perfectly, almost as if it was created for me.
Her face reflects 'this has to be a joke.' look, as she snatches her hand and places it between the sheet.
It doesn't look like she is buying the bullshit. Not that I even thought she will even for a second.
silvia
I don't even know you, much less being married to you.
Ofcourse, she doesn't know me. However, I'll make sure she remembers that I saw her first.
It doesn't matter if she didn't love me when I put a ring on her finger.
What matters is that I have her, and I'm not letting go of her
Even when her recollection of memories wash her over.
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