She stood naked save for the knee-high combat boots and rectangular framed glasses in the dark room. The place was absent of furnishings and the city lights cast a hazy glow through the open window. We're the same you and I.
"I am nothing like you." She pulled something from her boot and flung it into the darkest corner.
She heard a soft chuckle deep within her bones. You think a blade will stop me?
"No, but it's all I have for now." She moved to the window. She could feel him in the shadows, watching her. Waiting. I still consume your thoughts, don't I? A shiver ran down her spine and she forced herself to stand taller. "Release me."
The door behind her swung open and harsh light flooded the room. She refused to cover herself, but allowed herself a small smirk when she noticed the four nibs imbedded in the right shoulder of his trench coat and the fountain pen in his chest. He did little to hide it from her as well, they were both far to familiar with each other to resort to such things. You can't run from me.
"I wouldn't dare."
We are one.
"I am no longer that person, I'm a writer."
But you're writing our story, nothing's changed.
"I'm writing my story, you were a part of my life once."
I still am
"No." She sidestepped him and made her way to the door. He grabbed her wrist as she past him and suffered through her glare. She twisted out of his hold and heartlessly removed the items she had used for weapons.
You know you can't leave me
"I'm not leaving you, I'm separating our lives."
That won't work
"Then I'll do something else" She spun around and headed for the entryway.
I'll be here when you're done.
"I know." She didn't look back .
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