Baozhai is a beautiful and silent girl. She is known for her quietness. She doesn’t have many friends except her one friend and neighbour, Ai. She is from a middle-class family but well provided of what she always desires. She is and was elegant and picky.
She never travelled anywhere outside of her birth place, Suzhou, city in china famous for all the beautiful gardens. She was more focused on helping her family at their small garden, but also helps them with her siblings as well. Ai and Baozhai, would disappear all day talking about plants, in a way competing their parent’s gardens with one another.
She would waste her leisure time walking round places with Ai; she was never tired of visiting the beautiful city Suzhou; the Venice of the East; ancient, famous for the beautiful fascinating pagodas temples, beautiful stone bridges, the still canals that indulged the city with more architectural beauty, flowing water…she was never tired of visiting her own city, tirelessly talking about metical characters from their childhood, sharing hysteria of happiness eluding into the frenzy of imagination.
Things suddenly started to change when her parents started progressing faster, once they shift their attention in the food business; they opened their own restaurant and in short notice, they shot up in an unexpected speed. Change wasn’t what she hated but some of the obligations that comes with it; loads of responsibilities and her wedding preparation into a reach family. According to her mother’s explanation, it was all about strengthen the family relation and love would be something that would come from living together, which worked in her case. Besides, in her parent’s eyes, as long as they follow the traditional manners throughout the wedding ceremony, everything will be fine.
Unfortunately for Zahi, their Zodiac signs were reliable, besides wealth to secured future. Even after the groom’s family presented the betrothal or ‘Grand Gift’, which is various proposal gifts representing fertility and prosperity to appreciate the girl’s parents’ efforts in raising the girl, she hoped she still have the chance to convince them. But the day her parents send the dowry to display their love and support for their daughter, she lost the very little hope she had and finally start to make the tranquil and started to obtain idea of getting married. She decided to meet him in person and take the relation further before marriage which he was comfortable with.
The night before her wedding she experiences something unimaginable; something she would always hate to even think about. But she was so sure she was having bad dreams before that; signifying her that something bad will happen but she didn’t imagine it would be this bad. Her dream was about her, lost in an ice-cold aria, with lots and lots of chains of mountains around her, as if an imprisonment. That night she heard her name being called and she ended up in the same faith as the rest of the ladies here.
These two ladies with different past and paths are enemies in this world. He never treated any of them the way he treated Adha; Baozhai wanted to use her presence for a chance to escape and Katrin want to use her for a chance to get closer to him. Both have already given different meaning to her presence, but everything is going to differ after tonight and they both know it the moment they left her alone in the room with him.
Who knows, she might after all be ordinary just like them and or different as he said so.
***
“Where was I?” he asks me, and I turn to him in fear.
It is not going to sound like I am just shocked if I say that I don’t know what he is talking about. I mean, I really don’t know what he is talking about; his tone feels like he is asking about an unfinished conversation. I simply press on my chest with my hands and I take a minute or two to myself, breathing to catch my breath. Slowly, I press on the warm floor with both my palms as I stand straight and still behind him.
“What, what are you talking about?” I ask him, unsure and with a whisper-like utterance. I clear my hair from my face and tuck it behind my ears.
“I meant,” he says and gets up from his chair and walk closer to the French window. “The story of God himself.”
“That,” I breath a light laughter as I recall. I bite on my lower lip. “Are you still on that story,” I shrug my shoulders up. “What does it have to do with me?” I ask him in a sobbing manner.
“Everything,” he says, cold. “This is time for you to learn about me,” he slowly turns his face to me, but partially. “Time to know me.”
“I thought I already know you,” I pat my thighs with my palms, exasperated.
“How so?” he asks me, turning fully to me. With a baffled smile on his face.
“I think you told me the story of God and his doings to show me a clear resemblance example to what I believe your father, perhaps might did to yo…” he burst in laughter and I ceased on my words in shock, a little jumpy.
“Oh, you humans, you only see what you desire to see,” he says and turns his attention. “You know that son who was punished?”
“The one deprived of his power, thrown to hell,” he simply and quietly shakes his head. “Oh, the one waiting for judgement day, hanging upside down?” I ask him once again.
“Yes,” he quietly utters. “He was just waiting and waiting until one day he was found by his brothers,” he bites his lower lip. “They were already in war with the others in heaven, looking for those, who were broken,” he adds and exhales heavy. “They found him and offered him their hands and he took it. From then on, they realised there is a shortcut to your world, a passage, a thin wall between the two worlds.”
“A wall…” I frown, whispering to the understanding of the story he is telling me. I know you’re talking about the fallen angels, what are you getting at exactly? I utter to myself. I exhale long and look up to him, confused.
“Yes, you mankind calls us many things.” He quietly turns fully towards me and I stand still in shock. “You named us many. You have forgotten the time, when we lived together,” he starts approaching my direction, taking extended steps. “You erased us from everything, though we are the reason to everything you have and everything you treasured.” He reaches to where I am and stands too close to me. He is standing close enough, lowering his face to mine to the point that I can feel his breath on me as my breath fights its way to allow him to feel mine. “We become the terror of your life and yet still we are deprived of our divinity because of you and your kind.”
You can’t be it, I wonder, while I allow my eyes to look into his cobalt deep seat eyes. Without realising it, my lips are gasped slightly. You can’t be it. I repeat to myself to the way he is staring back at me. How is it possible that he can see me in love? It’s impossible since I can tell he is in love with me and yet still he shouldn’t be.
“I am that son, son of God himself…” he gasps air in to proceed on his words, but I take on his lips with mine. I don’t know what I am meaning of my doings but I am doing it. He seems on the right track with me that he simply goes on with what we are on to. His left arm wraps around my west and holds me closer as his right hand holds me still and closer to his face. I think this is a position that I am getting addicted to.
“I don’t care about what you are as much as I care about going back home,” I utter as I imprison his face between my hand, while taking a momentary break from one another.
“That’s why you’re ought to know me,” he says, putting his lips on mine. He stands straight and I am in his arm, my feet off the ground, totally trusting my body weight on his.
“Would knowing change anything?”
“Perhaps,” his pouted lips still didn’t leave mine. “It worked on the ladies, put them under my total command.”
“I thought I was different,” I bite his lower lip slightly and he spreads his lips sideways, amused. “But better to know you than not,” I shrug my head back and look into his eyes. “So, what are you?” I ask. Honestly, I am shivering in fear.
“I am him,” he says, and I see him swallowing hard. I think he hates to do this if it will work, but he feels like he needs to do this as we
ll. “I am the one your kind named in many names; the one who once was among your kind. I am, the one you name Shemyaza.”
***
I don’t know how to put what’s going on now to what we were trying to do moments earlier. His arms keep attending one after the other, at my disposal to my comfort and I am vulnerable under his embrace.
“Command me,” I whispered, and he deepened his furrow lines. After a moment, he slowly spread his lips sideways. “I think you should order,” I tried to simply state the fact, but in fear, my hurt was pumping blood too hard. This is what I remembered on how I started our conversation; right after he stated his name to me.
He slowly places me on his coat we dropped on the floor; my shoulder blades carefully resting on it as his right arm comforts me all the way down.
“No need,” he was looking into my eyes as he answered my question, it was like he found something readable in them. “I can still see there’s no change in your eyes,” he said. He was smiling, fascinated. Before I fully managed to enjoy his answer, his fingers already worked on my dress zipper on my back and slowly pill my dress off my body, leaving me undraped.
I didn’t waste time to take his coat off but taking it in my left hand, I threw it behind me. He simply smiled and pressed his lips on mine.
“Am I not me or are you that scared not to try it?” I ask him, pressing my right hand on his exposed chest before he lay on top of me. I just can’t honestly cease my mind from displaying the reaction on his face after his name; confused, excited and fearful, disturbed, hopeful and hopeless, but it all happened so fast for me to make sense out of the whole situation. It was clear on his face that he was enduring emotions for the first time; it was like he welcomed floods of emotions all at once.
Taking a while, he thinks for a moment, looking at me and he presses a sad smile and sits up nude, looking out the French window.
I remember when he took my clothes off me but I’m not sure if I was in my right mind to realise him taking his clothes off. I love the way he was kissing me; it was almost as if he is in need the oxygen I was breathing. I come to my realisation when he lay me down on the floor as he followed me.
“No,” he answers. “Elasa Biab rit od ol hoxmarch ol aziazor t.”
“Meaning?” I ask, with concern.
“You are forgiven, and I fear I like it.” I press a smile. As much as I am relived, I am feeling concerned since this might make him take extra measurement to keep me here. He turns and glimpsed at me and narrowed his eyes, before looking away once again. I hate this ticklish feeling he can create in me and I need to put everything under control or things might go sideways even now.
“I love the language; I think I heard…” I press my lower lip up to push the upper. I don’t know why I have to pretend like I couldn’t recall Katrin’s name.
“Katrin,” he says, and I hum in response. I can sense imprisoned laughter in his tone that I feel a bit ashamed of the way I am. “She is the only one here who is learning to know more.”
“Anyhow,” I sit up and lean on his right shoulder to my left. “I love the way you sound,” I add and press a smile.
This is not something I want to say because I feel like this is my escape plan. The language sounds eatable when it comes out of his mouth. It sounds quite masculine and the hushing and roaring sounds are blended quite perfectly. Maybe it’s his stern voice but it’s beautiful and interesting.
“I’m glad you like it,” he says quietly as he tries to look down on my face, while I am resting my head on his shoulder. Slowly, his left-hand crosses over to my chin and lifts me up to his presence and plants a simple kiss on my lips. “I can teach you, convince you to stay,” he says and if I am not mistaken, he sounds a bit desperate.
“What is it called?” I press my lips in a disappearing line. I was and still am not interested in languages and I think the crucial part of becoming multilinguistic is the interest. I am afraid I am not the right type of person in this place and yet still here I am and different, immune to his conjuring nature. Perhaps I can say I am lucky as well.
I am not lazy but I hardly want to change, I don’t like dynamic moves in my life and I think that’s the major reason that I allow peoples in my life to impact most my decisions. I don’t want to be seen; I hate to be the centre of attraction under any circumstance and I fear it. Even at work, I am known as a person behind the curtain. I hate that I am special, something different, for him. I don’t hate it but it is worrying me dearly.
Why am I really here? Why am I different…what am I to do now? I question myself, scheming his face grievously; I think I am associating his look those of mankind. His facial borders are too perfect to be human, his skin is too unsullied and smooth seen but rough when felt, his straight long and narrowed nose linings are perfectly set with his flat eye brows; the shadows that are created from the tip of his nose are beautiful to the point that it feels like it’s a shade sketched on purpose to highlight his uniqueness, the dorsum of his nose are perfectly flattened all the way to the root of his nose, spreading sideways to allow his thick and flat eyebrows form their borders. Those deep-set cobalt eyes are hardly deep; they are beautifully spread on his face showing his eyes just perfectly. His thin lips are with prominent lip borders with what feels like purposefully well curved lip borders.
He is not only perfectly beautiful to be human, but his look can create this fear in me…I would even say in any human. After all, we know what to be beautiful is; it’s to create this ecstatic feeling in the viewers eyes, but this beauty before me is creating something fearful.
“You know what I fear most?” he turns his face away, breaking the silence and closing my eyes I shake my head to get back to the way I am supposed to be like; alerted and conscious…in control.
“What?” I ask in confusion. I may feel confused but not to his question; I am confused of his nature and things how between us are really working.
“I fear the time you’ll have to see me in the now,” he says, and I frown. “I fear I might scare you off,” he adds in a dying voice.
“I still couldn’t understand that talk of yours,” I laugh breathy, a little baffled and scared.
“I told you that you are different, because you are.”
I don’t think that can explain what he is saying, I wonder, rolling my eyes as I huddle.
“You are different because…around you,” he says hesitantly, and I turn, only to see him closing his eyes. “I am in my past,” he utters and smiles after wetting his lips. “Around you, I see my old me; lights and brightness, I see the me that I miss a lot; kind and thoughtful and quite appealing.”
“What are you now?” I ask, as I start crawling to him and he open his eyes quizzically. “Are you gloomy and fire like?” he smiles, since I am playfully approaching him. I bite him on his right side of his cheek. “Are you…” I get on top of him and sit, facing him. I allow my hands to brush his cheeks all the way up to his head and through his hair, my fingers make their way.
His hands suddenly pull me closer to his hip, and unexpectedly, he slides into me; hard, tight, he holds me still. I impulsively scream, leaning backwards and stay in that position still for a moment. Slowly, I lift my head straight and look down at his face. “Monsters?” I complete my question, breathy.
I can tell that what just slides in me isn’t what I see; it’s something bigger and firm as it also feels cold; I feel pain than pleasure and I recall every time we are together it is the same; I am in pain for his pleasure.
“I am everything a broken angel represents in your world,” he answers, rough in his voice; his eyes fixed at mine and his hands still pressing me still on my hip to his. “I am in command in this case,” he utters through his teeth and hardly audible because of his heavy breathing.
In a speed, I don’t know how to explain, he turns around and lays me back on the floor and he takes control of the situation. In a hick up sound, I yelp as he strikes once and hard; he stays still and look down at me
, taking a moment. I thought I am about to explode but he slowly takes his hands off from my hips and get my hands on his head and holds them tight by my wrist, above my head with his left hand and allows his right hand to hold me still and immovable to his presence. He is deep enough in me and beyond; it’s painful and enjoyable at the same time. Mercilessly, he starts striking over and over again as he buries his head between my left side of my ear and shoulder; hoarsely breathing and groaning roughly.
He once again lifts his head, and then I see, I think I see him, finally; those rouge eyes, and the rough skin I always feel as he touches me; it seems like there’s fire under his skin, and through the rare crack I can see clearly, the larva in him. I gape in shock with my eyes wide; the dreadlocked hair from lack of care, falls off from his shoulder and my eyes are wide open as I see him indeed, in the eyes he was trying to explain to me about.… I think I finally see him and I realise the pain more than ever.
I suddenly start to struggle to escape his grip and with every fight and rising panic attack, he keeps resisting more effortlessly. I bit by bit indulge numbness while he gets quite loathing as he gets stronger and I feel hopeless; my body stop struggling and I stay still, with my lips gasping as my eyes are wide open and still on his.
I think my eyes are finally opened and I am able to see him. My heart is the only thing beating loudly and it feels like it’s in my ears. I succumb to fear, but the heart break takes control of my eyes and I shed tears in silence; I can feel it streaming down my temples. It was him and it really is him; he was right to think I might run away; I would love to do it now, but I am just as strengthless as I am helpless beneath him.
I can tell he can see what I am seeing as well, like he understands my fear. He closes those eyes for a moment after the flicking view of his reality revealed to my eyes, he then open his eyes and yet still see me in sad expression but once I started struggling while screaming, he tightens his jawlines, looking down at me, as if he has to do this, he just keep striking over and over again until I lose my voice and I muffle it behind my pressed lips.
Hell Again Page 26