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Threatened By You

Mariella Kuibreza

The Tillaya oil did its job well, curing me from my migraine, but not the memories I had begun to associate it with. After all, it wasn’t too long ago that it had been soaked in a towel over my eyes and nape.

I ran my fingers over the back of my neck, tracing over what I thought had been random bumps to realize that it had formed some sort of symbol. It had never occurred to me that there would be some sort of meaning hidden in the scar.

I caught sight of the petite girl from the reflection of the mirror as she entered the room. She dropped her shoes to the ground, before planting herself on the couch that was mirrored to the shape of the mirror, itself. Looking at her now, I hadn’t noticed the reddish freckles sprinkled over her pale skin like pretty stars, a difference to her blond hair. Then I notice the blond color is washed out. I wonder if she’s mixed.