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through the roar in her ears, the aching at her temples, she had
a rush of thoughts she couldn’t control.
Everything about this woman was what she’d always told
herself she’d never wanted. She’d represented something, a
symbol of what Giana had always held apart from herself. In
essence, she was human like everyone else, even if there were
people who would call her an icy, automated robot. Didn’t
everyone want to love and be loved? This whole thing had
been her subconscious writhing in rebellion, taking over,
wanting to live her life for her. God, she must have hit her
head hard.
This wasn’t unconditional love. How could she have
thought that after a lifetime of steeling herself? She looked
back at herself from the past few days and she didn’t recognize
herself. She’d had fucking stars in her eyes. Dreams. She’d
offered herself up and let herself just be alive. She’d done all
the things she knew better than to do because it never ended
well.
Her emotions had escaped and made a bloody, horrible mess
of everything, as she’d always known they would. She was
absolutely vindicated in how she’d chosen to live her life
before. A few days could have destroyed her. It would, if she
didn’t do some fast and immediate damage control. It didn’t
matter that for a few brief seconds, she’d felt real happiness,
and that was more than she’d achieved in two decades on her
own, because all of it was fake.
All of it for this petite stranger with summer sky eyes and a
potent sadness that was so different, like it was just a passing
storm that would break and then she’d find that light again and
she might even extend her hand and pull Giana into that light
