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Chapter Fourteen

Apparition

Christian

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As I take in the apparition, paralyzed in front of me. I disregard the fact that I'm fuming, because my suit, has no doubt been ruined, and overlook, that I, too, appear rooted to the spot and can't seem to move. Despite our mutual discomfort and unfortunate state, and knowing that I should be helping her, I find I'm unable.

I deliberately, ignore the shock and embarrassment she must be feeling, and focus all my attention on staring at her. My eyes, sear into hers blatantly, disrespectfully, but I find I don't care. Even though, I can clearly see that I'm frightening her, I can't find the will to cease. Or free her, from my heated, hateful gaze.

The resemblance, is remarkable.

Purely, remarkable.

I truly, can't believe what I'm seeing.

This woman, gaping back at me, like she's caught by a viper. Is just how I imagine Ana, would have looked as an adult. She's a little taller than I imagined, and holds a feminine shape that I never considered the child, I killed could grow into, but her chestnut hair, her bright blue eyes, her entire face shape, is Ana.

To an absolute, T.

When her eyes meet mine, I freeze. As does she. My body chills to the bone and my breathing falters, because her eyes, her amazing blue eyes, are a mirror image of the expressive, blue orbs that torment me every night. They're mesmerizing, beautiful, captivating... And wrong.

They're so familiar and beguiling, and shouldn't be staring back at me from this woman. They can't, be staring back at me from this woman. I take a sharp intake of breath as the heat from the liquid spilt on me, finally soaks through my clothes and kick starts my rationality.

My eyes, leave hers, briefly, and take in every detail of her. I appraise her, from head to toe. She's perfect...and it sickens me.

When my eyes return to hers, they burn with the uncontrollable, rising detestation that I feel for her. I can feel it rage and spread right through me, but when I notice her cower, I shiver with shame and can't stand it anymore.

The mirage, I'm caught up in, turns my stomach. She's a true replica of the girl I killed, and it's torture. I can feel the bile rise up into my throat, and I know that I can't remain here for a second longer. I drag my eyes aware from hers with one final disdainful glare, before turning sharply on my heel.

Ignoring the stares from those around me. I indicate to Taylor, for him, to deal with the girl I've inadvertently scalded. While I, flee the premises. I can't bear to be near her, can't bear to look at her. The tightening in my chest and inability to breathe, proves that.

I grunt, a poor excuse for an apology at her, and vacate the coffee shop as quickly as I can. Grateful, for being instantly swallowed up by the crowd. I breathe easy, once there's a safe distance between us.

Unperturbed or concerned, with the stain on my jacket and shirt, I stride through the doors of Grey House. I ignore the curious looks from everyone I pass as I head purposefully towards the private elevators. Pushing the call button with frustration, I curse to myself as my mind races.

Why, are brunettes, suddenly everywhere? First the jogger yesterday, now this girl today. Has my inner torment and turmoil, finally taken hold enough to cause my eyes to play tricks on me? Am I seeing, only what I want to see in these women because Ana, is so prominent in my head right now? It can't purely be coincidental. Surely?

It's justified, condemnation-al torment. That's what it is. Just when I make a conscious decision, and weak attempt, to let Ana go, she's everywhere. Haunting me. Tormenting me. Proving, undoubtedly, that I don't deserve forgiveness. I don't deserve to forget what I did that night. I don't deserve to forget how I ended her life. Ever.

When my office door slams shut behind me, I lean back against it and slid to the floor. I rest my head on my knees as my ass hits the marble and take a deep breath. Bad move. The sweet smell of hot chocolate wafts from my clothes, filling my nostrils, and I can't get the image of the soaked woman out of my mind.

She was damn, near perfect.

Too perfect.

Deludingly perfect.

With frustration, I begin to pull my tie free as I pull myself up from the floor and right myself. I head straight across the room to my private bathroom. Where I rapidly, shower and change, and where I always keep spare clothes. Once I've freshed up, and washed her from me, I slump at my desk. Resting my forehead on the cool, glass top. I consider, whether I should up my sessions with John. It's just my fucked up luck, that when I really need him he's out of town.

Maybe, it's time to finally be honest with him and tell him everything. I think at this point I have no other option. It's one thing, to self berate and be unforgiving, but another thing entirely, to start hallucinating.

What's worrying me the most, though, and what scares me the most, was my reaction to her. It was heart stopping. When her eyes met mine, for just a fraction of a second, I was once again, fifteen years old. Ana was right there with me. Smiling, happy, alive. Then time caught up to me, like a swift kick in the guts.

I felt it in my gut too. It rolled and sent a wave of nervous energy, like I've never felt before, right though me. My palms began to sweat and my mouth started to water. There was a strong possibility that I would have retched at her feet, had I stayed, enraptured in my delusion any longer.

I jump, as the intercom sounds and vibrates through the glass of my desk. I raise my head, square my shoulders, and welcome Andrea's interruption.

As she informs me that my first appointment of the day is here, I apply my hard persona. Pull on my mask of cold, hard, indifference and prepare to be the man people expect. The man, people fear. The man, who people expect, and know, to be in control.

Until I can talk to John. Until I can have my sanity verified. I'll do what I do best. I'll bury myself in Grey House, because nothing can touch me then.

Nothing, can touch me here.

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