It was your secret – that little tidbit of information you kept so close to your heart at all times, hidden away and protected from the world.
It was that one thing you never tell anyone, not even your parents, not even your friends, and not even your journal, because if it ever got exposed to the harshness of reality around you, it would pop like a bubble that lost its surface tension, and except within the deepest recesses of your mind and heart, it would be lost forever. But memories are just that – memories. Even if this reality was kept secret, it was still real to you, nestled at the deep core of your soul.
It was a precious treasure you kept within you, but also ever so close to the surface, just threatening to break free. It is a delicate balancing act.
At the same time you want to bury it miles underground, you also want to run around screaming at the top of your lungs, happy to tell everyone – overjoyed to proclaim to the world how you feel, and what you think, regardless of how anyone else would react, because it’s your heart and your love.
But you can’t. It’s not a matter of ability, or want, or even need. It’s a matter of… survival.
So, for the time that’s defined as now, you smile and nod your head, denying claims of truth and pretending you don’t understand the accusations.
And when you close your eyes, you immerse yourself into your world, where your secret is free of its own shackles and restraints. It’s the place you journey to at night, when your body is resting and your soul is free to soar beyond all boundaries, as bounds don’t exist in your mind, and even if they did, your soul wouldn’t care anyway.
One day, you were going to tell her.
But now, it’s too late, and you’re cursing yourself for not acting sooner. But how could you have? How could you have known what she was about do? How could anyone, even yourself, predict the future?
That look will haunt you forever. Between two officers in their pale blue uniforms and shiny silver medals, with her pale green skin contrasting starkly with their pale tone. Her ebony hair glistening with raindrops that sparkled when they caught and refracted the light. Her sad and wistful eyes, telling you more than any vocalization or word ever could. The barest hint of a smile – just the upward quirk of a corner of her lip that was directed towards you.
She wasn’t caught – she would never allow herself to be caught, at least, unintentionally. This was planned from the very beginning, and played out perfectly to her internal script. She wanted to be caught, she wanted to be shackled and subdued.
For you. Always for you.
One day, you were going to tell her. Do you remember that promise?
Perhaps now is the time.
Always for her.
Go on. Do it.