Disclaimer : These characters belong to Stephanie Meyers.
Chapter 13
Reflection (N.) The throwing back by a body or surface of light, heat, or sound without absorbing it.
Here's my theory.
I've never truly seen myself clearly. It was Edward's comment last week that made me question it. He had struck a nerve, and he wasn't even aware how deeply he had cut into my old wounds.
I'd since sewn myself back up and pretended I didn't give a shit about anyone's perception of me, especially not Edward.
But what if I'm right about myself and others? When looking in the mirror, do I see myself, or the version that I want everyone else to see? If I'm all consumed in what others perceive I'll never see myself clearly. I'll only see what everyone else does, which is only the parts of me that I allow.
That is why I decided a long time ago that I would forever be alone, and others would never again define me. I wouldn't be defined by my whore of a mother. I would define myself and live that way for the rest of my life.
I would live in Euphoria.
The only problem is, Edward has made me question that very decision. By not letting others define me, I still have somehow become the definition that others created for me. I will never see myself clearly, because I am simply a reflection of what others see. I am even a reflection of Edward, of his light, his beauty... but even he can't save me from the darkness. He alone can't save me from myself.
The path to destruction is a lonely one, only loved ones are dragged down because of their inability to let go of potential, of the reflection. I heard Edward's words loud and clear last week durinh our run, and I see the path he has chosen, and it's one of continual pursuit. That very same day I chose my own path, one leading far away from him for his own good.
I can already see that the more I get to know him, I'm really getting to know myself better. As I open up more and allow him closer into my darkness, he thinks he is gaining from the experience.
He thinks he's getting closer, getting stronger.
He thinks he's weighing me down, when really, he's doing the opposite.
Edward is only strengthening my resolve. I am only reflecting his light, but no matter how close he gets, I refuse to absorb it.
I'm deflecting him.
That's why, in the furthest corner of the dimly lit house, I sit on Mike's lap grinding slowly to Rihanna's 'Work.' Feeling a stiff cock beneath me would usually prompt a trip to the bathroom, but not tonight. Tonight I want to be seen. I want him to see how I'm into Mike, and how I only want Mike, so maybe then he'll understand that he and I are never going to happen.
Mike grips my hips and wiggles beneath me. Normally, his breath on my neck would send chills down my spine, but for some reason it only causes bile to rise up in my throat.
I stand from his lap, one hand over my mouth, simultaneously feeling ill and sorry for myself all at once.
"Where ya goin' babe?" he pulls my arm and tries to discreetly place my hand on his bulge, but there's nothing discreet about it.
"Bathroom," I say, tugging my arm away.
The long walk composes me enough, and I instantly feel much better without Mike pressed up against me. I decide to take a breath of fresh air and calm my nerves so I step outside and do just that. Everything is fine, and I am just about to turn and go back inside when I hear his voice, and I want to die a little.