Post by Deleted on Apr 30, 2011 14:51:34 GMT -5
It was a good thing Dusty was able to recover fairly quickly and actually walk away, because even after she was gone and he was alone in the room again, Arkady still just stood there a moment longer, staring at the door.
She wasn’t the only one who had seen fireworks.
Shaking himself out of it, he let out a frustrated growl, turning abruptly away from the door and dragging both hands back through his hair. “Pull yourself together, Arkady! Get your head in the game!” he said aloud to himself, pressing the palms of his hands into his eyes. “It was nothing, you felt nothing. She is nothing. Just a means to an end. Don’t go losing your head now.”
Unfortunately his head wasn’t the problem, and it wasn’t what he was in danger of losing. Or maybe it was his problem all along. He had gotten that notion in his head years ago that he deserved more than the life of near squander he had, that it was his birthright to be among the rich and powerful. The idea had grown and festered until it had consumed him, and no nothing else mattered. It didn’t matter what he did, what he said or who he hurt as long as he got what he wanted, what was rightfully his.
“You’re too close to screw it up now,” he said with a note of finality. Gathering up the little portable stereo and CDs, he did one last sweep of the room to make sure all was back to rights before slipping out into the dark himself. He had until Friday to get his priorities straight and his focus back, and he was determined not to fail.
She wasn’t the only one who had seen fireworks.
Shaking himself out of it, he let out a frustrated growl, turning abruptly away from the door and dragging both hands back through his hair. “Pull yourself together, Arkady! Get your head in the game!” he said aloud to himself, pressing the palms of his hands into his eyes. “It was nothing, you felt nothing. She is nothing. Just a means to an end. Don’t go losing your head now.”
Unfortunately his head wasn’t the problem, and it wasn’t what he was in danger of losing. Or maybe it was his problem all along. He had gotten that notion in his head years ago that he deserved more than the life of near squander he had, that it was his birthright to be among the rich and powerful. The idea had grown and festered until it had consumed him, and no nothing else mattered. It didn’t matter what he did, what he said or who he hurt as long as he got what he wanted, what was rightfully his.
“You’re too close to screw it up now,” he said with a note of finality. Gathering up the little portable stereo and CDs, he did one last sweep of the room to make sure all was back to rights before slipping out into the dark himself. He had until Friday to get his priorities straight and his focus back, and he was determined not to fail.