I'm late. I was supposed to meet her at 1900, but I won't be in time. Conversations at meetings concerning electricity problems are always very time consuming, especially when not everyone is ready to do their job the way they should to. I hate carelessness and I hate unpunctuality. But my emotions are on the rise and although I have to hurry, at this time fireworks explode inside me.
I want this meeting. I need this meeting, this another challenge. Our conversation earlier was difficult, tedious, but I still need more. It's like climbing a mountain, it's hard and tiring, but it's satisfying, and as soon as you gain strength, you want to repeat it.
There is so much left unspoken between me and her, and I want to solve this mystery named Juliette Ferrars. I want to know what she will oppose me this time, how she will fight or try to manipulate me. I don't make any plans, I don't think over my speech or variants for possible questions and answers. I don't need it right now. No one will be watching us, and I want to throw myself into this stream again and go with the flow. Surrender to the power of this element, let myself go again and just wait for what happens next.
Despite a lot of things to do during my day, I still couldn't get our conversation out of my head, replaying past events over and over in my head. I do not know what I will do tonight, but I was trying to figure out what happened in the afternoon.
Despite a bunch of things to do during my day, I still couldn't get our conversation out of my head, replaying past events over and over again. I don't know what I'm going to do tonight, but I was trying to figure out what happened in the afternoon.
My words to my father are certainly not true. It was just a sarcastic response, nothing more. I haven't fell in love with her. I'm definitely intrigued though, that's truth. Because no one has ever challenged me like this. No one has ever been able to kindle a fire inside me. But this is not about love, not about something romantic or – especially - carnal. It's about her personality, about communication, about the possibility of having someone nearby with whom you can have a dialogue, and not just give or receive orders. And I'm looking forward to another meeting with her, I want to know where our next conversation will lead us.
When I enter my room, of course, she is already there. She and Kent weren't late this time. She's not angry, but rather embarrassed.
Well, she haven't resisted today. She prepared for the meeting. For the second time in one day. And it seems that she plans to kill me, because this much darker, evening image looks new, but still amazing.
I gladly remind myself that this time it's just the two of us. Really just the two of us. She doesn't understand it, she doesn't understand why I made such an emphasis on this earlier. But it matters to me. And now I can behave as I want, without thinking about how my words will affect my legend.
"You look great." I tell her from the doorway and feel her strong embarrassment. I like to embarrass her, I like to tell her things she doesn't hear too often. "Green is a great color on you. It really brings out the color of your eyes."
I can feel that she likes it. Every time I mention her appearance, she feels almost happy. And I'm glad to give it to her. It's true, after all. She is very beautiful. And in these dresses, and in rags…
"What color are my eyes?" I hear in response and laugh at her obvious desire to have another confrontation with me. A little thick, but still endlessly cute. Instead of answering, I invite her to sit down, continuing to smile.
Juliette looks around, but doesn't sit down. Instead, she asks me another question.
"How old are you?"
I freeze, look at her, trying to figure out if she's joking or not. It's strange, but I feel the same emotions from her as before. And although she avoids my gaze, I feel that she is sincere with me. And I suddenly realize that she was serious when she asked about her eyes. She really doesn't remember.
It baffles me for a moment, but I immediately pull myself together. Should I really be surprised by this or remind myself of the conditions she was in for a long time? With her self-loathing, none of this is surprising. We'll take care of it. Gradually, I will teach her to appreciate herself, the first steps for this have already been taken.
I switch to another thought, which is much more important at the moment. She really wants to know more about her opponent, she's willing to just chat with me over dinner. That's what's important. She's making contact. Well, I guess I can refuse her this for now and start setting my own terms.
"You care to know?"
"I'm just curious."
She finally sits down, and I follow her example.
"I won't answer your questions if you don't look at me when I speak to you."
I need her to lower the barriers. I want to conduct a dialogue looking a person in the eye. Into those aquamarine eyes the color of sea waves, sparkling in the light, piercing, moist.
My tone is friendly, and it encourages her to show off her claws.
"I can't look at someone who makes me act against my own will."
"Well, sometimes a person needs to be pushed. A good slap in the face can bring out of a tantrum much more effectively than a thousand kind words."
"You are terrible."
"And you are incredibly stubborn."
We exchange another spiked phrases, and she likes this game, actually. It doesn't hurt her, on the contrary, it makes her feel stronger. She feels more confident. She thinks she's better than me. This is a great progress for a person who is used to seeing in oneself only the most terrible monster on earth.
Now she has no illusions about me. She, judging by her question, has noticed that I'm quite young, but she also knows by now, this doesn't make me less dangerous. She knows that I don't show pity or mercy, that I punish the guilty. And yet she doesn't change her manner of communication with me. Stubborn. Furious. Righteous. How different she is from the bundle that had been hiding in her bathroom all day today. And although I don't have access to that room, I can guess that she was sitting on the floor, hugging her legs. Her usual pose from the asylum. Right now, in front of me is a young, proud, hot-headed girl, a good girl facing a bad guy and showing him her contempt.
"I do what you want. After all, I'm wearing this dress. I ate your food. I'm here now."
Yes, she is here now and it makes me very glad. But to be fair, she wasn't against it herself. And I want to remind her that I didn't insist.
"You didn't have to come."
"And you would kill someone."
I can barely hold back a smile. Our conversation here is not much different from what we talked about before. But now we are alone and I feel much calmer and more relaxed. I don't need to be cold and tense. I can smile at her barbs and admire her courage bordering on arrogance. Complaints are surely the best way to talk with a person who could kill someone.
She doesn't like my reaction, it almost offends her, and she changes the subject.
"Why are we eating here?"
I don't have a prepared answer, but I don't have to think for a long time what to reply. I tell her the first thing that comes to my mind. The truth, of course.
"I want to know you better."
This answer confuses her at first, and then for some reason outrages her, although there is nothing provocative in it. And I decide that it's time to lower the heat a little. If she switches to food, she may find it a little easier to relax and feel more comfortable. I hand her the plate, she stares at it intently for a few moments, as if carefully examining the contents, and then makes a statement without looking up.
"I'm not hungry."
I can let her get away with a lot. I can let her insult me or refuse to obey me. But I'm not going to let her give a damn about her already enfeebled health. My actions are already preventing her from recovering in a calm mode. I'm already aggravating the situation with unnecessary additional stress. If she also refuses to eat or sleep…
"I don't care." I say.
"I won't eat."
She finally looks at me and her gaze is full of determination.
"Decided to go on a hunger strike? I know exactly when you ate last. It was a long time ago. So there's no way that you're not hungry."
I allow myself pressure her. But this causes her only another outburst of aggression. She turns away from me in a demonstrative movement.
"Eat your stupid food yourself."
I snort a little, reminding myself once again that it doesn't work with her. I need to talk to her. I need to explain her. She needs to be guided. That's what she listens to. Due to a lack of learning, but a thirst to know more, she grabs for any information if she feels that someone can give her more, teach her more. And she doesn't care who it is.
So I fold my hands and decide to give her a lecture on good manners. Not about the need to be well-mannered, but about how banal cunning and self-dignity can make the enemy be deceived. How this actually elevates you, instead of making you weak. I'm sure that this will arouse her interest, draw her attention to my words and distract her from the situation in which she is. I don't want her to feel like a hostage, I want her to feel as if she is in the midst of an ally.
"Good manners speak, first of all, not about your interlocutor, but about you. When you show your dissatisfaction, when you're rude, don't say 'thank you', or 'please', you humiliate yourself, among all people. Show your level. It doesn't affect your opponent in any way. So please, let's keep a certain level here."
I feel her intense embarrassment, almost shame. But I tell her all this because no matter how much I believe in her, I am aware that she still has a lot to learn. She likes equality, she likes being treated with respect, but she ignores the fact that it must be earned. Not with me, of course. But there will be many different people on her way. And in order to be considered equal, it will not be enough for her to pout her lips or make a stand, she will need to correspond a certain level that exists in certain circles. It's natural, and she needs to figure it out. She doesn't understand it yet, but I do.
Sooner or later she will have to face an enemy much more formidable than me. And this person immediately destroys as soon as he feels weakness and insecurity, as soon as he feels his superiority. With him, it will not be possible to be insolent or disobey. Because he knows how to force, he knows how to find weaknesses and put pressure on them until you break down. He knows how to humiliate in such a way that a person can never recover. And if there is no rod inside you, he will trample you. Shatter to the ground. She must be ready for this.
Someday she will have to negotiate, establish contacts. The most difficult thing about this is that you have to pretend that everyone are acting within the rules, that everyone is friendly to each other or at least ready to discuss controversial issues. If you start getting bent out of shape, screaming, you lose. Because you will only be measured with a contemptuous look, and then your vehemence will be used against you. They'll get you to make a mistake.
I allow myself to do this with her, though. I allow myself not to control my emotions around her. Because I don't want to play chess match with her, I just want to be in her life. I just want to support her, help her, guide her…
"I had to say you all this, love. Though it wasn't very appropriate, I guess. But, we are in a private environment where no one can hear us. And as your ally…" She looks at me intently, and I have to correct myself. "Potential. I'm happy to guide you. In addition, so that you remember, you are not allowed to harm yourself, starve and commit any other stupid things."
She starts to get very nervous, fuss. She's embarrassed and at the same time she wants to hear what I'm saying. It only makes her more confused. And also, it seems she is embarrassed by her imperfection next to me. Because I feel like her self-discontent and shame are mixed with her emotions. It's not what I want, but I think it's impossible to move on without going through this painful stage.
"Thank you. For your very valuable advice." She doesn't look at me, adds poison to her words. It's just a defensive reaction. Usually I only admire her, but now I allow criticism, for the second time in a day, and it makes her squirm.
"Sarcasm doesn't suit you, you know."
My voice sounds soft and she looks at me with surprise. She thought I was just trying to humiliate her and my goodwill creates a dissonance in her head between my words and my attitude towards her.
"I know you see me as the bad guy." I unfold the napkin and place it on my lap. I want it to be like a normal conversation over a meal, not some kind of lecture. "But I'm just trying to help you. The world is too cruel. I'm giving you an opportunity that no one will ever offer you. They'd rather you rot in that cage. I want you to spread your wings."
When I say the last phrase, I feel a very strange reaction from her. Almost laughable. She is suddenly so embarrassed, frightened, as if I have found out some terrible secret. A big secret.
"My wings?"
She stutters a little. And I don't quite understand how I should react to it myself. So we just look at each other for a few seconds. But her emotions don't weaken, and I decide to explain my words somehow.
"I was speaking figuratively."
I foolishly clarify, as I believe, the obvious truth, but for some reason she noticeably relaxes, and at the same time blushes profusely. It's something about this topic, about wings. Does it have any special meaning for her? Didn't she say before that she likes to fly, that she would like to. I can imagine her as a girl who makes wings from scrap materials, and then tries to fly using them somewhere in the field while no one sees it. It seems so plausible that I'm almost ready to accept this scene as a real fact. Maybe that's why she's so embarrassed? Maybe she thinks I know about it?
I had no intention of embarrassing her in this way. I smile weakly at her and place my hand next to hers. I know that if I touched her, she would be against it, so I try to show understanding and support at least in this way, at least with a similar gesture.
When she's not ruffling, she looks so gentle and I want so much to show her how she really is. I want to show her that she really has wings, she just refuses to notice them, she's just too afraid to fly. I'm willing to do anything to help her. I want to do more for her.
I had no intention of embarrassing her in this way. I smile weakly at her and place my hand next to hers. I know that if I touched her, she would be against it, so I try to show understanding and support at least in this way, at least with a this small gesture.
When she not ruffle, she looks so gentle and I want so much to show her how valuable she really is. I want to show her that she actually has wings, she just refuses to notice them, she's just too afraid to fly. I'm willing to do anything to help her. I want to do more for her.
"Juliette, I treat you as an equal. It is so. I can give you everything you ever wanted. I can make everyone suffer for what they did to you. I can put power in your hands."
"I don't need power. And I don't need you to hurt anyone."
I myself am not quite sure what I really want from her anymore. It's definitely not just about my mom anymore. This is not only a faint probability, a possibility that I've noticed. I'm sure that this is not fanatic delusions or irrational fantasies. Talking with her face to face, I know for sure that I am right. This girl has a great future. She has a huge potential. And I'm willing to put a lot at stake to help her reveal it. Even if she hates me for it. Now I know that it's better for me to be tough, but to give her more than to be good for her, but not to push her develop her full potential. And I'm not trying to hide it from her. I say it out loud, trying a different approach.
"But you don't like what's going on in this world…"
"Yes, I hate it."
"And who do you think should fix it?"
"Definitely not me."
"Even if you're capable of it? It's very cravenly, you know. Quietly be dissatisfied and complain in the corner, but not even lift a finger to change something."
"You just want me to become as cruel as you."
"Someday you will understand."
"Never."
"You'll change your mind, I'm sure of it."
"I'll never turn into you, do you hear."
Of course, all this sounds like some kind of nonsense to her. It seems to her impossible, unworkable. But it's not like that. Maybe this is perceived by her now as something crazy and ridiculous. She's just too far from power at the moment. For people from the outside, as well as for Juliette, the power of such a high level seems something incredible. Not wonder that she perceives it as something unthinkable, like a flight to the moon for a primitive man. But my whole life has been spent in this world where a few people decide the fate of all mankind. I witnessed how in the beginning all this was only at the level of plans that were subsequently implemented. I myself have a certain power, my father has supreme power. For me, this is something quite tangible, almost ordinary.
I hate all this, I hate the person who embodies all this, but before my eyes there is a clear example, a model. And although the only thing I actually want is to help someone I love, I don't think I really can or want to run away. It's easy to run and hide, but who will take the responsibility to change everything for the better, and will these people's beliefs coincide with my own? However, I am definitely not the kind of person who could become a leader and guide people. She could. She doesn't understand it, but she has this core, this charisma, this anguish and this greatness. I know that sooner or later the moment will come when she herself will realize how she underestimated herself.
"You can hate me if it makes it easier for you to reach your potential. I don't mind. Fortunately for both of us, I can be very patient. The only thing that disturb me a little.." I stop and she immediately gets hooked because she wants to know. Because she cares, even if she knows she's taking a risk walking through the minefield of my unstable mind.
"What?"
"That you're so alarmingly beautiful."
She flares up, but not from anger, but from embarrassment and my heart begins to beat faster. She bites her lower lip, although she doesn't seem to notice it herself, avoids my gaze. She definitely likes to hear that. She's definitely attracted to my words, not just about her appearance. She likes the prospect of being strong. She wants those wings she's been dreaming about for so long. She wants to believe, she wants to hope.
I want her to let herself go, I ask her to. I know it won't work, of course not. A person doesn't change in an instant, but I'll tell her that over and over again. Until she starts to believe. She already reacts to my compliments in a completely different way. She already reacts differently to herself.
"I know you have it in you. Even though you're trying to hide it. Don't hold yourself back. You and I, we're not as different as you think."
"But we're not as similar as you want us to be."
I don't agree with her. I believe she is much more like me than she thinks. I feel it and it makes me happy. I met someone similar to myself, perhaps for the first time in my life. And although our relationship can hardly be called right, equal, fair, I can't help but rejoice at this.
"I'm nineteen, by the way."
She spoke boldly, looking into my eyes most of the time. She deserved a little revelation from me, too. Because, to be fair, I get into her life more and more, coloring my idea of her with bright colors. She still doesn't know much about me. I'm not ready to open up to her, but still I want to give her at least something, otherwise she will never be able to trust me. And I want her to.
It seems to surprise her. And the fact that I suddenly answered her question. And how young I am. Obviously, she thought I was older. Many do, rigor and restraint lends solidity. Age, if you like.
"Excuse me?"
"You asked about my age. I’m nineteen years old."
She is not just surprised, she is delighted, ecstatic. And I don't want to hide my enthusiasm at all. I decide to laugh it off, knowing that I will sound a little arrogant.
"Yes, I’m a fairly impressive specimen for my age, I know."
I myself find these words funny, and I know that I can allow myself not to restrain. I just repeated to her a phrase that I had heard from one of my father's higher-ups back when I wasn't regent. I thought it was ridiculous then and it terribly embarrasses her now.
She confessed that she likes my appearance, she is surprised and delighted by my youth, she is confused by her own sympathy for me, the emerging trust that gives rise to a sprout in a dry sandy ground that's not very suitable for this. And knowing all this, I can't feel happier.
She picks up her fork and starts eating. And even if she's just avoiding the embarrassing situation she's in, she's still doing what I asked her to do.