"You've been busy I can see." It wasn't a question.

"Yes. And I'm enjoying it."

"Not thinking so much anymore?"

"No.."

"I wish you would though." A slight glimpse of irritation. The first sign of her losing control. She did have feelings after all. "I kind of missed you. All these months and you didn't even think of me." A definite edge to her voice now.

What an absurd notion. As though nothing had happened.

I remained silent.

"Aren't you going to tell me what happened?"

Totally a hilarious, outrageous demand. As if she had the right to know! And I don't think she cared at all. Maybe just to torture me with her elusive charm, tempt me with endless false promises. To see me squirm in dismay, drown in my own depression.

"Where have you been," I asked, trying to divert the topic. I knew it was futile, but I had to try.

"Well.. here and there. There's no shortage of people seeking my company you know." Such shamelessness. "I could really be around those who seek the pleasures I could bring. People yearn for what I give. Men have perished in their attempt to satisfy me. Yet somehow," she paused. I could feel her smouldering eyes on me. "I seem to find myself coming back to you. Isn't it silly of me. You don't even like me. The attraction is obviously not mutual, and I'm fighting a cause that has long lost it's purpose."

"Yes, you're right."

"I know I am. And that intrigues me."

"Spare me the sarcasm."

"You really are in a bad mood today, aren't you?"

"I don't see the point of continuing with this conversation any longer." I said stiffly. As rude as I could.

"Maybe you don't. But I do. I didn't come back just to laugh at you." I could hear steel in that tone. "There must be a reason why I'm back. And I want to know."

In an instant, I knew what she was going to do. No, you're not going to do this to me, I shouted silently. Like I could do anything.

Slowly, gently. Probing. I could feel the gentle caress of her fingers, going through the past events. Sifting the cupboard which held my most innermost secrets, not unlike a secretary attending to her files. Silently my inner voice raged at the violation, screaming helplessly as she viewed the events one by one, like a film critic. I could hear her murmurs of amusement, sometimes irritation. I could see the events flash past my own eyes, which I could not close. The months of hidden resentment slowly revealing it's ugly face, the ill-concealed discontentment. Like a hydra that reared its head after a long slumber. In the whirlpool of many faces, I glared at some with hatred, others with regret. And one with sadness in my heart.

The pain so cutting. Deep, like a bottomless pit.

And then, it was all gone.

I suddenly realised I was shaking badly.

I refused to look up. Yet I could feel, almost if I was staring into her eyes. Compassion. Or was it pity. With a tinge of disappointment and overwhelming sadness. Maybe even hurt and confusion. A series of emotions running alongside each other, trying unsuccessfully to outflank, out fight. A battle of many colours; red, yellow, and the darkening rush of black and grey.

"So," she murmured.

"You didn't miss me after all."

In a show of almost sisterly concern, I felt a faint, lingering brush across my cheek. Before I knew it, she was gone.

~