I cross my arms as I look out at the stars that pass by. Ahead of us, too far to see, is that gas giant planet we passed before. I haven't decided if it'll be worth the trouble to wear that damn diving suit again or not. My time on that planet was... not the best. But it had some really cool things. Maybe now that my attention isn't so... consumed with the thoughts of getting back home, I might appreciate it more.
But I doubt it. It's not like I couldn't enjoy anything before. The diving suit was just actually miserable. I'm not sure I can bear it again.
I guess I'll decide later.
I should probably get back and take a shower. Mira wants to do some kind of rock climbing activity together. I feel guilty because I've been so busy with... things... that I haven't really been spending time with her. And she's my best friend.
My best friend who has no sense of timing. Who can apparently hear the most important and intimate moments of my life no matter how far away I am from her. I don't understand how she does it. It's a mystery.
I take a deep breath and turn around.
There's a mirror on the wall. I'm not sure why. It's a hallway, of all places. And this isn't the first one I've passed, either. There's a lot of mirrors on this ship. I suppose the rich have a certain aesthetic and it involves looking at yourself as you walk around.
I glance at the mirror.
The woman I see in the reflection is not me.
She has green eyes. Bright green eyes. The color of my eyes. But they're not my eyes. They're too clear, too vibrant. Too... mature. They have a hint of sadness and wisdom that I don't recognize. Maybe there's a touch of anger, too. But they're not my eyes. They're someone else's.
Her hair is blonde. The same shade of blonde as mine. But it's longer. It reaches past her shoulders, and it's shiny and smooth. It looks like she takes care of it. It looks like she actually cares about her appearance.
She's wearing a simple, comfortable, black outfit that clings to her body. It's not revealing, but it's not loose either. It shows off her curves. She has curves now. She's not a skinny, awkward teenager anymore. She's a woman.
A woman who looks like me, but isn't me.
I stare at her.
I always do.
Surely if I look long enough, I'll see myself again. That scared, stubborn girl who was taken from her home and forced into slavery. That girl who fought and survived and still thought she could go home and go back to her old life. That girl who lost her friends and her freedom and herself.
I haven't seen her in years.
I don't know where she went.
I wonder if she's still there.
I wonder if she's ever coming back.
I reach out and touch the mirror. The reflection does the same. Our fingers meet on the cold surface.
I look at her. I try to find something familiar. Something that tells me she's me. Something that tells me I'm not a stranger to myself.
I find it in the scar on her shoulder. The black brand that marks her as a rebel. The pock marks of acid burns from the water she jumped into to save her friend. The old faded scars of cuts and bruises and bites that she got from fighting for her life.
Those are mine.
Those are the proof that she is me.
But they're not enough.
They don't make me feel any better.
They just remind me of how much I've changed. How much I've lost. How much I've gained.
How much I don't know who I am anymore.
I sigh and pull my hand back. I'm about to turn around and walk away. To go back to my room and pretend everything is fine.
But then I see Llywelyn behind me. He's stepped outside of a room behind me, into the hall. His expression is thoughtful, focused on wherever he is going, and for a moment I think he'll just pass by without noticing me there.
But he pauses. His head lifts, his eyes meet mine in the mirror, and his expression softens.
He smiles at me. It's a soft smile. A genuine smile. A smile that makes my heart skip a beat.
He walks over to me, his long hair swaying with each step. He stops behind me and wraps his arms around my waist. He rests his chin on my shoulder and kisses my neck.
"Hey." He whispers, his voice warm and gentle.
I feel his breath on my skin, his lips on my ear, his hands on my stomach. I feel his heartbeat against my back. I feel him.
"Hey." I say, and my voice is hoarse.
He pulls me closer, and I feel his chest against my spine. I look at us in the mirror again. I see his golden eyes looking back at me. His expression is so soft I barely recognize him. I'm not used to this... tenderness from him. It makes me feel... weird.
But good.
He kisses my cheek and his hands slide up to my chest. He cups my breasts through my shirt and his thumbs brush over my nipples. I gasp and shiver at the sensation.
"Llywelyn, we—"
"Shh..." He says, and nips at my earlobe. "Just... let me. Please."
I bite my lip and nod. I don't know why he's asking me. It's not like I'm going to refuse. But... there's something in his voice. Something that tells me he needs this.
I relax against him and let my head fall back on his shoulder. I close my eyes and let him touch me. His hands knead and massage my breasts, his fingers pinch and tease my nipples. His lips trail kisses along my jaw and neck. His teeth graze my skin and make me moan.
It feels so good. Too good. I can feel the heat building up in my core. I can feel the wetness between my legs. I can feel his hardness pressing against my backside.
He wants me.
He wants me badly.
That's not a revelation.
But...
I never thought I'd be able to see it like this.
It's...
Different.
Hotter.
I open my eyes and look at us in the mirror again.
I see the stranger-woman with her flushed cheeks and parted lips, her eyes glazed with lust. I see the handsome Akutwas with his glowing veins and his hungry expression, his hands on her body, his mouth on her skin.
They look...
They look like lovers.
They look like they belong together.
They look happy.
I realize that I want to be her.
I want to be the woman in the mirror. The woman he's holding and kissing and touching. The woman he loves.
No...
The girl.
Maybe I still do want to be her. The girl at home in Oregon. The girl before she was stolen away.
But...
Llywelyn's lips brush against my ear and whisper, "You're beautiful. So beautiful."
I'm not her anymore. I haven't been for years.
But I...
Maybe.
I could want to be the woman that's looking back at me now, too.