I own all that my imagination created. Nothing else.
She was careful how she approached him, swirly dress flashing in the mellow mid-day sun. He embraced her as they could now do in public and held her back in front of him as if examining her already explored body. She flinched out of his grasp and stared at him. She was always self conscious about her body; this was just her excuse from years of torment.
"W-what's wrong with me?"
"Kel, nothing is wrong I just want to look at you…"
She lent down and whispered into his pearl coloured ear, illuminated by the wind and sun.
"Isn't bedding me time enough!"
"Kel! Don't be ridiculous! I like looking at you, at everything about you!"
He whispered franticly trying not to draw attention. He moved to kiss her but she yanked away as little gems tumbled down a reddening face, the mask was broken.
"Just will everybody stop looking and staring! I am a girl that's all! Nothing different! Nothing at all special about me! ARRGGHH! Just…just leave me alone, I need to get away!"
She tore completely from his desperate grasp and sprinted to her rooms. The palace walls were hung with dripping tension, soaking to the bone.
He wondered what had gone wrong as he walked to her rooms hours later. He thought to leave her, let her settle her boiling temper of passion, fury and anxiety. The grainy wooden door was unlocked and he slid inside locking the protection inside the languid room. He saw Kel in deep calming slumber. Was that alchohol? Sure enough a tar bottle half filled with liquid intoxication stood defiantly on her drawers. A cat had been smashed, circular chips the last remnant of what used to be perfect. He picked up her spindly body, the most attractive one he had ever held. Then lay on the bed with her in his arms like they always did. She stirred and groaned. He hugged her close as she awoke in bliss ignorance of the fight. Then as a waterfall hits solid ground the memory hit her. She sat up on the bed and glared at him. The mask was back, her faults and feelings bursting behind it. She strode to the door, floor shaking under her furious force.
"It is locked, you know."
"Open it."
She whispered, her lethal tone had no effect, since he saw her stance waver.
"If you did not hear me, I said open it."
He got up and walked over to her arms spread out, waiting for known rejection.
"Don't touch me! I said don't!"
He caught and held her in his arms. She struggled and flailed, but it was no use. The poles had reversed; he was now into power, wielding his power also of passion. She screamed and shouted muffled insults into his shirt, but he held true and defiant as the sun streamed onto their strangely intertwined bodies. Suddenly the mask tore in old scars and the hot tunic turned cold as liquid soaked into his heart. She hugged him and cried. For all those years of thinking she was worthless. For the fact that she still didn't believe her value and because he loved her and would hold her, whether in protest or acceptance. The mask broke and fell into oblivion, because she no longer needed it. She didn't have anything left to hide.