As we shifted through the darkness that was filled with stories, we finally fell into a library. No end in sight, I turned to Ambika and tugged her arm. She slapped my hand away and stood up on her own. "Come Johnny, we have a long way to go." I followed behind her, but she turned back and grabbed my hand. "I want to make sure you follow me…I don't wanna give you the chance to get lost." Get lost? What is she talking about? She wasn't even walking that fast? "Johnny, stop thinking so hard. I just wanted to hold your hand, I was being sarcastic about the lost part." She said, "Uh, okay." Suddenly she stopped and walked up to me. Looking up to me she smiled. "Do you want to hold my hand?" She said,
"It doesn't matter, you can do whatever you want." I said while backing up. She looked down at my feet and grabbed onto my arm. "I didn't ask for that." She said with a stern look. "It's okay." "I don't care what's okay with you." She stood up on her tippie toes and stared me in my eyes. "What. Do. You. Want?" She said while gripping my collar. What do I want? It doesn't mat- I don't…I froze, I just stared at the ground in horror. I…I…I…I'm sorry…
"My mother used to hit me…" I turned to look at Ambika and she just sat down staring at the infinite bookshelves. "Very often actually. And I'm kinda like her in that sense." She said while continuing to stare at the bookshelf. She turned and grabbed a book named "Black Feather" "No your-" "No, I'm an annoying bitch who thinks too highly of herself. Someone who's perfect with no struggles…I'm someone who grew up with everything but still found a way to view it as hell. Disgusting yet beautiful, I'm undeserving of a peaceful life." She finally turned to look at me. The cold ambience of the library sinking into both of our eyes. Her chin rested on her delicate hand, she was…
"John, who are you?" I stood there, silent. "I-I don't know." I said. "Do you want me to tell you what I think of you?" I nodded yes and she stood up slowly. "You're a pushover who's shy with men but admires them deeply." She popped her neck and stretched out her back. "A boy who was conditioned into thinking his existence was wrong. A boy who hasn't made a single decision in his life. Omi-palone."
what what is she talking about is she insane im not gay "You're not talking about me!" She gently looks at the ground, her hair flowing in the wind. "I know." Suddenly she crashed into me and grabbed onto my neck. "WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?!" She stayed silent and stared at me with pure hostility, digging her nails into my neck. "I can't breathe." She didn't care, she didn't care about anybody but herself. She was disgusting. I…hate…