Paradox

Prologue

They say the world is seen differently between two pairs of eyes. However between a discarded girl and a posh prince, it's quite the opposite. When the boy's eyes are opened and the girl's closed, their eyes are one. Through plaguing thoughts of complete strangers the two live a double life in another's shoes. Minx harbors a deadly secret as she is dangerously drawn into Silas' world. Little do they know that the puppet master behind the screen has already raised the curtain.

Silas, unable to forget about the raggedly beautiful girl, flies to her prison and drags her back to a world of virtues and vices.

She has been held in solitary confinement for the last four months, and for that duration hadn't uttered a word since. Frost can now be seen on the edges of her textbook sized window etched into the frame of her metallic box. Through the reflection of the metal she eyes the girl slowly deteriorating by the day. Her hair had lost the golden highlights from the sun, the auburn now a dirty crimson. Her nails are cracked at the tips and her body mass decreases by the day. But there is still beauty to her, an imperfect beauty that casts light into the dim cell. The curiosity for the world has left her eyes, leaving an empty pale blue in its place.

The door can't be seen from the inside, there is only a rectangular slot.

Through her stay, she has grown more sensitive to sudden changes, whether it be voices or the various footsteps. Her ear twitched from the sudden sound approaching. She swallowed roughly as she analyzed the gate of the man: large work boots, clumsy wide gate, tall and heavy set, hard breathing. Overweight. Fumbling with keys. Anxious. She gave a dry swallow when the door opened to reveal a fist colliding with her cheek. The sadist.

I hear her inner thoughts as if they were my own; as if she and I were the same.

As the footsteps grow closer I can feel her body tense, the sweat beading above her brow as her rough tongue runs across her lips. As her heart beats faster and faster the need to protect takes over. As he enters the room something within me breaks free, and in that moment; the moment her eyes close: mine open. And when they do something dies and is born.

I've had the same nightmare for the past three consecutive years, yet each night it's like I forget and relive it. As if I'm in a constant loop of ignorance and fear. But I only feel true fear when my eyes open and the dream fades. She fades.

I sat up and ran my sleeve across my forehead, attempting to calm my jagged breaths. I turned my head and eyed the clock: five o'clock A.M. With a loud sigh my head came crashing back down on the pillow.

But like many stories, this is not where this one begins.

Part 1: Scene One

1

It was just another day on the same sidewalk through the scenic route overlooking the lake. Just across the lake is the school that's been labeled as "home." Although he refers to it as "prison."

His boots slosh through the freshly fallen snow as the brisk air bites at his frail body. Alfred would have a heart attack if he knew he was out in this weather. He felt his lips curl up at the thought of him running about, a smile that quickly faded when he heard footsteps behind him. With a sigh he turned, but he found his brow furrowing when there was no person to match the sound. He had expected to see one of Alfred's lackeys... Was it just my eyes playing tricks on me? With that thought and a shrug of his shoulders, he heaved his scarf further up his face; his ragged breaths catching in the warm fabric. He stuffed his frost bitten hands in his pockets and trudged forward.

~

It's the third time this week that he's visited this cast–this library. It's been nearly a month since I started surveying him. A month since I regained a sense of "sight" when I came in contact with him.

2035-5-15 11:05:00

The instant the scent of musty books and chamomile tea reached his nose his shoulders relaxed. I could tell that he was nervous about something prior to walking through the door, but it was merely a thought he repressed.

He kicked the snow off his boots gently and knelt to remove them. The sound of his zipper caused someone in the back to rustle the books. Ms. Jane. He leaned over to find the old woman smiling down at him, such is routine. Ms. Jane always makes his face soften, as is he's relieved to see her each time he walks in the building.

"Isn't it a bit nippy to just be walking in that?" She was referring to his sorry-excuse of a jacket. But he simply smiled in response, "I'm not one to carry around unnecessary weight." She laughed to herself and carried on with her rigorous prepping and organizing.

She was the only person that he could truly stand, aside from his older sister Anna who rarely makes an effort to visit. He enjoys her company because she dislikes his. Although this isn't entirely true it is a game the two play with the adults. Mainly because it plasters disdain on their faces; which was something the siblings enjoyed more then their game. He laughed to himself softly from the memory and walked to the back of the library. There he found his cup of tea and book waiting for him in the same place they always were. Away from prying eyes.

2035-5-15 4:02:54

I'm always amazed at how he can be fully submerged in his books. It's as if he's faded into the folds of the page and becoming the book itself. He always has the same routine no matter the day or mood he's in. The only thing that changes is the author and genre of the book in his hand.

His favorite author changed just about as much as the color of the ring dangling from his neck. One thing that the boy is fascinated by, to the point of obsession, is unpredictability. He immerses himself with words written by hundreds upon thousands of authors, each book a different story behind the cover. Sure there may be similarities, such as fairy tales and hero vs. villain. However there is always a spin on it unique to the one writing it. And that is something Silas lives for. I've come to call him that since I have yet to learn his true name. The boy always gives a tranquil serene air to him, but his roots stretch far beyond that. But this links him to many whom he would rather not associate with. For these reasons I find him much like a forest, which gave birth to the name Silas—Greek origin meaning "forest."

His elegant fingers danced across the page, not once missing a beat. He seemed more feminine than masculine in all honesty, which was probably why he was so mesmerizing... Now don't get me wrong, I'm no stalker. In fact, I have no control whatsoever. Like I said previously, there was a time that I was utterly and completely blind. But that was until Silas changed my life. He gifted me with sight. But by doing so, stripped me of my dreams.

~

The only time that I can see at all is when my eyes are closed and his are open. There are moments that are unforgettable and this was no exception.

I was still in shock over the death of my elder sister, Ellona. Prior to her death, our mother died from lung cancer. Her lungs collapsed and she was injected with enough drugs to make her final nap as painless as possible. She wasn't a bad woman, but she wasn't a good one either. A month later our father died in a car crash. It was labeled suicide, but I say it was stupidity. Ellona was sixteen and dropped out of school to take care of her twelve-year old sister. Me. At the age of twelve I lost everything that mattered to me in a matter of moments. And by everything, I mean my sister.

Ellona had some sort of pigmentation disorder in her eyes. We were a family line with a small build, black hair, black eyes, and light skin. Such was the norm where we lived. However Ellona had pale blue eyes, which caused people to ostracize her. My mother had it set in her mind that Father had an affair, which caused her to spiral. Father saw it as a bad omen. After Ellona was born they tried desperately to have another child. But their efforts were in vain.

After Ellona was born Mother's body couldn't withstand another pregnancy. So they placed Mother's egg in another woman and had me. Mother saw me as more her flesh and blood then Ellona, which is one of the many reasons why I shunned her. Mother blamed Ellona, and in turn had a cocktail of drugs every night. But I didn't care. As long as Ellona was there I could withstand anything.

The only one who acknowledged my sister as a person was me. I was all she needed and she was all I needed. As the years progressed Ellona's condition made us a target. People from our neighborhood would shout "accursed!" and things of that nature at us. When our parents died things only got worse. We were chased out of our home and forced to live on the outskirts of town. There was an abandoned warehouse where we carried bedding and the remaining non-perishables and called that home. Everything was fine until three weeks after when winter struck.

I was deathly ill with an escalating fever. Ellona placed her forehead on mine, lied beside me, and held me the entire night.

"Everything is going to be fine. Shhh, you won't hurt any longer. All will be gone. All the pain. Everything." I listened to the sound of her sweet nothings until I felt myself lose consciousness. I was ready to die if it meant I was lifting the weight of responsibility off her shoulders...

But that wasn't how it ended.

I felt my eyes open, yet there was nothing. I blinked a few times, but the darkness remained. I reached my hand up to feel my eyes and found no wetness; not of blood nor tears. But when I touched inside I felt my eyes burn from the dirtiness of my fingers. Wincing I squeezed my other hand into a fist to find something intertwined between my fingers. It was cold, the skin was cold– "Ellona!" Panic ripped through me as I screamed her name. I felt her fingers twitch, which caused me to say her name again.

"Minx... Thank god you're okay." I felt myself jolt from the abrupt motion of her hand on my cheek. I felt her hand draw back.

"...What happened? Why do you sound so sad?" I felt my arm pulled forward as her arms wrapped around my body. Her hand stroked my hair.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." That's all she said as she stifled back a cry.

"It's okay. I'm okay." I know I didn't sound as convincing as I wanted.

"You will be." Then she kissed my forehead, and I heard a thud as her body crashed down to the floor.

I screamed her name until my voice was raw, until my own exhaustion and distress caused my body to lose consciousness once more.

That's when he found me.

"Miss, are you okay?" I felt my eyelids shoot open in response to the unfamiliar voice. I felt my body tense as my head whipped around the room. I closed my eyes and breathed a sigh of relief. "Are you okay?" I felt my heart skip a beat, the sound pounding in my ears.

"Who are you?" I opened my eyes once more but saw no one. "Who's there?" I must be going insane. I heard whoever it was open their mouth to speak and slowly opened my eyes. But again, I saw no one. "Is this some kind of joke, because I don't find it funny in the least!"

I heard a rustle in the room and clamped my eyes shut in fear of what would come. When I closed my eyes a third time, a boy was sitting in front of me. But it was like there was a thin sheet of film over the picture, or rather over my eyes. When I focused on his face the background grew clearer as well. Lush green fields and a giant oak tree painted itself in the canvassed nothing.

"Have you calmed down a bit?" The boy looked to be at least a good two years older then me, his blue eyes piercing along with his blonde hair. There was something about him that seemed nostalgic. What if... To test my theory I opened my eyes. Replacing the boy behind the vibrant outdoors was an all too familiar black void. I closed my eyes to find the boy yet again.

"What kind of dream is this?" His smile was all too comforting.

"You tell me? I'm seeing the same dream you are. Although, your home seems to be a bit more rugged then mine." I couldn't help but laugh.

"Ya, I'm sure. This isn't exactly Buckingham Palace."

"Well this is. So to speak." I gave him a eye roll which in turn made him give a soft laugh. I plopped myself on the grass across from him.

"Where is there, or rather here, anyways?"

"Somewhere a long ways from wherever you reside."

"You speak awfully proper for someone who can't be much older than thirteen or fourteen." He closed the book on his lap and focused on me.

"I could say the same to you, Milady."

"Are you always this straight with your answers."

"Do you always speak your mind?"

"Touché." My voice had lost all sense of urgency and panic.

"Does Milady have a name?" I stood and smiled ear to ear.

"Terribly sorry, how rude of me. My name is Minx Maas, pleasure to make your acquaintance." I finished my introduction with a curtsy. As I lifted my head to him I could feel his breath on my nose. His eyes stared into me as if peering into my soul. His gaze grew colder as he analyzed me.

"I will give you my name when you give me yours." His words left me in confusion, as the world slowly faded back into nothing.

~

It's been a month since then.

I've learned that the only way for that connection to be recreated is if we're both consciously or unconsciously thinking about one another. But this is while his eyes are open and mine are closed. When that link is established its as if our eyes are one with each other. I see what he sees, and he sees what I see. And lately, all he can think about is me. And each time he pulls me into his world, the harder it is to leave.