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The Flames In Mind

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Blurb

Zivali

A girl who kiss her without a reasonable thought.

Emilia

A girl who slapped her in the best manner possible.

Two girls met off on the wrong side of the bat, the kind wrapped in barbed wire. Oh but it doesn't end there. Due to circumstances, they live together for a short period. In just a short time a lot can be revealed, secrets hiding under a black veil. However, Emilia has more than she's letting on, confusing ones at that. Zivali can say the same although victims tell a different story.

Strangely, Emilia seems to know of Zivali's nightmares. Who is she and why does she so tempt Zivali? Every image of Emilia gives her a memory of harsh truths. And a body that seduces Zivali till broken.

Let's hope the nightmare has a sweet ending.

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|| Prologue ||
10 Years Ago: "MOVE IT, move IT, move it," Faint shouts penetrate the walls that are getting licked away like a moth to a flame. The orange and yellow colors set ablaze as I cower in an unwanted corner inside the building I call home. It's getting hotter. I feel the oxygen getting plugged in my throat as the continuous shouts of looking for someone, gets softer. My heavy eyes look around. Grey clouds are getting thicker as the flames coat their path, proving they easily own any course of action. To take a single breath hurts my chest. The longer I am trapped, the possibility of getting found are slim. The fire refuses to halt for it's a being without control. The heat growls with anticipation, getting closer and closer. The thing that seems to be my friend in this hell is the fear engulfing my mind. That fear keeps me alive as my thoughts run amok with no anchor to hook. My body trembles as the warmth travel down from my brow to my neck. My spine shivers as the droplets of sweat caked in heat, leave a trail. My eyelids are getting too heavy; its weight pulls me closer to the floor. My head hits the ground with a thump - it sounds like an echo. I barely hear the small sound of my name getting nearer. As I lay, I curl in the fetal position that increases the sharp, stinging pain shooting up my right upper thigh to my waist. It burns as a lowly whimper escape from my lips – "Daddy..." I want to move, but my friend is on the floor. I want to breathe, but my lungs are filling from the smoke. I want to hear, but my ears deafen from the smoke. I want to touch, but my limbs are numb. And the last thing I see before I pass out is the intensity of those eyes I've always loved.

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