take a gamble

I stared at myself through the bedroom mirror as I took a step closer to the mirror. My eyes skimmed over the bandage that covered my arm. I remember looking at myself in the mirror the day Michaelson brought me here to his room. I was absolutely shunned at what I looked like. All of which just seemed like a blur of a memory now. I was fed and given clothes and saved. Should I be grateful to someone who kills for pleasure? I have been indeed feeling differently towards him since he saved me from that beast in that cell. I was just too grateful to him. A sigh escaped me.

I came a long way, that's for sure but I still don't understand why he is doing all this? Let alone, challenging me to stand up against him. Maybe he finds me attractive. But I thought he was gay. I turned my body to different angles, trying to get the best view of it. I'm attractive, I know. He allowed me to live, constantly telling me that he wasn't supposed to kill me. He finds me attractive but maybe not in this sense since he never really made any such sexual advances toward me. But then, the tips of his ears tinged red after our lips brushed against each other. Why am I even dwelling on this? Maybe this is a good thing. I grinned, orchestrating something in my mind. Taking in my appearance again, a small frown on my face. I want to cut my hair. It was a bob extending to my shoulders. I didn't like it. I wanted a change. I never liked long hair. My mind unconsciously shifted to that awful memory of seven years ago. I saw my reflection in the mirrored wardrobes. Holding my waist long honeyed hair back from my face, I surveyed myself. Pulling back my narrow shoulders I sighed heavily. I was thinner with my skin paler than ever, my ribcage faintly but still visible through my skin. I like my legs, always did. They're long, slim and nicely shaped. I looked good in shorts, though I doted on jeans. I bit back the tears, their hot saltiness made me disgusted.

Walking to the mirrored wardrobes, I stared into my own face. My eyes were blue like those of my grandmother and brother. They were empty, empty of any affection. My cheek bones were prominent, more so now I had lost weight. My lips appeared dry and cracked from where I cried and kept chewing on them to stem the heart wrenching sobs of loneliness. I leaned my forehead on the cool glass and took a deep breath. I did this to myself. I ruined everything. They died because of me. Benjamin was deprived of their protection and affection because of me. Do I still have a good reason to stay alive? I snapped out of the memory I thought I forgot, knocking my knuckles against the mirror to shake off my trembling hand. Why am I reminded of it at a time like this? My jaw clenched, I looked at myself again in the mirror when that lone tear rolled down my cheek. This can't be for real. Is crying the only thing I can do? I'm so useless.

In the end, Michaelson was just like me. He was so broken to the point it drove him to hate humanity and become disgusted with even the feel of it. His duality was stark contrast. No other hypothesis deemed fit here. I saw that innocence luring his face in that portrait, the innocent Michaelson. I saw his expressions as he sucked in his inner pain and portrayed that fake plus creepy smile intact. I saw how petrified he was earlier. Many evils are born from the injustice and suffering of this planet. They don't originate from wombs. It was their grief and spite which would mould into lava and Michaelson was one of them. I stared at my clothes. Obviously, his. I put on a knee length short and a shirt. All the clothes I've been wearing were Michaelson's because I liked them, the plain colors, the way they looked; dark blue, white, gray and dark green and obviously the black color. I wondered what time was it now. I had stayed in the kitchen for around 15 minutes. I watched Ortega cleaning up Michaelson's wounds etc. So, it must be around midnight right now.

It was then that I noticed the clock behind me through the mirror. It was 11 o'clock. Time was going painfully slow. He was sleeping soundly, no tossing and no turning as I realised I was gawking at him through the mirror. Jealous that he could enjoy sleeping, I gritted my teeth a little. I was sick being in this enclosed place with him. I can't even go out since the door was locked. And I can't sleep for more than a couple of hours. I needed a distraction else I'll lose my sanity. I wandered in the small garden which was spacious enough for one to walk. I discovered I loved the flowers. They looked special in the way they were blooming. I don't know if it was their familiar blue colour which ressembled Ben's eyes that was attracting me. Nonetheless, I was charmed by their beauty.

I rubbed two fingers, hard, over my right eyebrow. The throbbing has become intense. I was hungry, angry and confused. I should have eaten that fucking delicious lamb but then I was just so irritated that it seemed tasteless. Then I remembered, I definitely saw a coffee machine somewhere on this ridiculously amazing floor. I set my cup there. It was lukewarm when I took a sip, making it harder to gulp down. I placed the coffee on the table and looked down, rubbing my right eye. The pain began somewhere above my eye going deeper. A pinching I had never felt before. An icy sweat broke across my forehead. The world around me spinned. I grabbed onto the table.

Dammit. What's going on? I have insomnia so why am I sleeping every now and then? I lose my consciousness. I hallucinate things. I am definitely not well. Is it because of the food I'm eating here? Is Michaelson poisoning me? Or is Arnold doing that because I annoy him? Or is it Ortega because he thinks I'm a danger to Michaelson?

Everything started happening after he strangled me. The shadow I saw, the throbbing headache I experience. I thought as I was making my way back to where Michaelson was. My thoughts went back to when Ortega asked me what I was doing here in the study. I had ignored his question to which strangely he didn't retort back. Instead, ignored me just like Arnold always did and locked the door on his way out. I didn't even get to protest. Didn't he warn me not to do anything to Michaelson? How could he trust me with his safety and leave him here alone...with me? Oh, right. There were cameras here. But not in his room where he was currently sleeping defenseless. I noticed earlier. He didn't have any footage of this particular room. I glanced at Michaelson whose eyes were still closed on the ridiculously comfortable bed. I sat on it for like 5 minutes to get him on the bed since he was adamantly tugging onto me and I was already in love with the softness of the mattress. When there was such a perfect bed, why was he lying on the floor with the lights off? Should join him on the bed? It was big enough for 2 people. A straight no. This shouldn't even come to my mind. I stopped in my tracks and decided to sleep on the couch instead. Better. I decided against being on the same bed as him. The feelings I was feeling were not comforting, rather disturbing. I felt extremely disgusted to even think to share this bed with him as if I would happily share it with a stranger but not with him. What was I even thinking?

Up to this day, I had only shared a bed with Ben or Anse. I felt guilty. I can't seem to shrug the feeling off. I had nothing to feel guilty about. Yet, every time I felt I was cheating on Anse and it made me feel worse and pathetic.

I almost laughed at myself, at my unbelievably stupid thoughts.

He left me and part of his life here. No one knew where he evaporated. I was already running out of any plausible theory on his disappearance. Maybe he was a time traveler and he returned to his time era or he was a shape shifting wolf who was captured and eaten. Maybe he was abducted by the aliens who knows. I laughed at myself who was still trying to justify his absence. I settled some pillows on the couch. Do I love him? I thought I'd get over him until I saw him again in my dream earlier. As it turned out, the person I poured my heart in front of had some secrets of his own. The more I thought of it, the more I wondered if he was sincere as I thought he was. He was sincere, I could see it in his eyes and in his every action. There were maybe still so many things I didn't know about him whereas he knew everything about me. I pushed the couch furthest from the bed, from him. I lazily sat back on it, crossing my legs and putting my ankle on top of my knee. My thoughts and my feelings obviously were such a mess and chaotic. I can't get hold of him. I am so pathetic. When did I ever become like this again?

I tilted my head angrily, sparing Michaelson a glance. I can only survive if I have Michaelson. He can be my shield. I definitely have to mould this shield perfectly in a way I desire. One thing I realised about him was that he was cold blooded, someone who never felt remorseful and use anything to impose and manipulate. However at the same time, he was someone who is also with a conscience and a bottom line. I am sorry Michaelson but I'm going to use that to my advantage. I would touch his already sore nerve. I smirked, amused at how much the thought pleased me. I've got to do this. Even if I'm sick or whatsoever, I'll take you down before I die. I desperately need to earn your trust even if I have to stoop to your level. I'll stay alive for a good reason this time. I won't caved in to anyone. I shamelessly thought. I smiled genuinely thinking about my plan.

I had the whole night to think. My insomnia finally was serving right. I kept in mind that then the only option is to take a gamble on Michaelson. It was better to take a gamble than wait for my inevitable death because realistically, that was my best strategy for survival now. I had to stop screwing around so I could face myself and to be cut out to be an agent. I won't just grovel to him. That would be a shameful death. Because he was still just an assassin, the lone wolf whether he was broken or not. He already did too many damages. I aknowledged his good side as well as the worse ones. Nevertheless, some sins are irreversible. I stared at the walls of the room which were of a pleasant bright purple color while I lied on the now cozy and too comfortable couch hugging the blanket. It was warm and fluffy. I noticed the sheets on the bed and the blanket were of a darker shade so they complemented each other nicely. There was a dark purple fluffy carpet on the floor near the bed. I had spent the night tossing and turning. Nearly two hours went by when I finally gave up on sleep though I kept my eyes closed listening attentively to the faint 'tik tik tik' sound of the clock.

May the show begin later.

I sucked in a deep breath as I recalled something.