Maybe it was the close proximity I shared with him or perhaps it was the poor ventilation in the dark empty room but whatever it was, I couldn't breathe any more. It's like at that moment I didn't know how to. The ability to concentrate or focus on anything was absolutely impossible when that taunting piece of past dangled in front of my eyes so hauntingly. For a moment it almost seemed like an illusion, something my mind had concocted out of its own accord in such a stressful and panicking situation. But...

I wanted it to be a lie, I hoped it was and so the urge to touch and feel and believe that polaroid's true presence, with slightly yellowing edges, was immense. At the same time, I wanted it nowhere near me. I wanted to burn it, to tear it into bits and pieces, to destroy it because it triggered a long forgotten or rather suppressed memory that I never wanted to resurface up again.

Say cheese!!!

That sickly sweet voice rang in my ears and tore through my soul. A voice that I never wanted to hear again. My mind had decided to play against me as it tried to open the chest of drawers in the dark corner of the room, searching through memories, swiping through faces until the one with the brightest of blue eyes and shiniest blonde hair was found.

The pain that surged up inside my chest was nothing compared to the agony in those memories that haunted me day and night unless I found an inefficient yet working way to live. Closing my eyes was a futile attempt to wipe that picture of me away from my vision. It was a bad decision because I saw more with my eyes closed than with them open.

Ah! Picture time!

Another voice, another memory, another pain.

"Roza," his hot breath fanned my ear as his other hand gripped the back of my neck, making sure that I didn't look away. He enjoyed the way my body shook with fear and pain and agony and everything else he wanted me to feel. There was no denying the truth now...I truly felt like a puppet of his, moving the way he wanted, reacting the way he wanted and doing everything the way he wanted.

A perfect plaything.

"Roza, look at you. So scared with your pink little cheeks and baby brown eyes, staring off into the distance, too occupied to even look at the camera...or," Drawing out the silence, he waited for another shiver to run down my spine as he relished the feeling of it underneath his hand, gripped on my neck.

"Even notice me."

I didn't believe my ears when I heard what he said. To be very honest, I didn't even register the true meaning of his words until it clicked in and my eyes darted across the picture to find any evidence to the words he just said so nonchalantly. Every fiber in my body denied whatever he tried to imply. It just was not possible, it should not be.

A speck of dark hair caught my eyes and I just couldn't look away. My eyes were blurry even before I could clearly see the face which was not turned towards the camera but to the left. Somewhere where I was supposedly standing.

"Shhhh, don't be too hard on yourself. It's not your fault." I don't know how he knew I was crying as he placed the picture on my lap, came in front of me and used both of his hands to wipe my silent tears away. I didn't look away from the picture and kept staring at it, somehow still unable to believe that I was still caught up in my past all this time when I thought I was finally free.

Like I was flying one moment but thrown down on the ground by the invisible tendrils of past that held me down with a secret promise of never letting go.

What do you want from me?

I wanted to ask him. I wanted to ask what he wanted from me and why he was doing all these things, making me feel things that I felt ever so often. Just the mere difference is that I was kept submerged and drowned in these opaque waters, with the mask ripped off of my face and thrown away. Shackled and trapped.

The ability to talk was lost to me. It sounds impossible but it did happen. I couldn't stop myself or the tears from dripping down my cheeks and clearly showing him that I was being affected. That he succeeded in hurting me, that I was weak and always will be, unable to fight back and forever in submission.