The confusion didn't last inside of me for long. I stared at the white lilac branch, running my eyes over the intricate details.

If Roman was telling the truth, and my doubts that he wasn't were now close to completely evaporated, what was this supposed to mean?

I thought back to the first time I ever saw this painting. It was years ago, almost three. It was the first time that Jesse ever grabbed me so hard that he left a bruise. I walked to this convenience store, tears streamlining down my face and my mascara running not far behind them, in hopes of begging a stranger to buy me alcohol.

I never got as far as asking, however, because my eyes caught hold of the mural. It was the faceless woman that drew me in, but it was the lily in her hands that made me stay. The feeling that it was a message for me and me alone completely took hold inside my body.

Does this realization mean that it was in fact a message left for me? And left for me, by Roman? It didn't make sense, did it? Yet, if it wasn't meant for me, then why would he have changed the lily for a lilac? Not to mention, a white lilac. Was it a coincidence that in my drunken rambling last night, I told him I hated the color purple, which meant he drew this today? I wonder how he had the time.

Yet, it still didn't make sense. Roman didn't know who I was three years ago. Hell, he didn't know who I was last week. Did he take my affection for the mural and try to change it for me? Was he trying to tie me further into him? Why? Why would he take the time, and why would he apply the effort?

The confusion was gone. There was anger inside of me instead. My life was already a mess of riddles, it was already a haystack of questions. I didn't need Roman adding to that. I didn't need him coming into my life and messing up my mind even further. I didn't need any more games. Being played with like some kind of toy, I already had someone to do that. I didn't need him, his stupidly hot words that seemed to hold too much meaning, his annoying tendency to pop into my life.

I was mad. I was already mad at Jesse. I was already mad at my own self for losing that hair scrunchie. And now, I was mad at Roman. And since there was nothing I could do about Jesse, and there was nothing I could do about my hair scrunchie. But, I could do something about Roman. I could give him a piece of my mind. I could demand those answers from him. I could tell him I'm not interested in playing those kinds of games with him.

So at that moment, sitting on the cold, hard sidewalk, my eyes were swollen from crying, my hair an oversized rats nest on my head, I decided I would. I would do exactly that because it was the only thing I could do.

Knowing I couldn't afford a taxi, I stood myself up off the pavement and walked towards the nearest bus station. I usually tried to avoid taking public transit, mostly out of fear that someone from school would see me, but I was all out of concern today. I wasn't concerned anyone would see me, and I wasn't concerned about the numerous questions that would no doubt arise out of my less than society accepted appearance.

I waited at that bus stop, lost in thought and staring out in the distance. I was thinking about my questions for Roman, and I could feel the emotion inside me, fueling me with motivation. Once the large bus stopped beside me, I climbed onto the crowded vehicle. It was filled with people from all different walks of life. Commuters who didn't want to drive in the crowded streets of downtown, the drug users with their heads slouched over the side, the mothers with their small children, it was all familiar to me. After all, when my dad first left us and took our only car with him, it was the only way my mom and I were able to get around.

My mind wandered to my father, and the thoughts of him only further fueled my rage. He was a simple office worker when he left my mom and me, he barely had more money than she did. My mom has always told me that it was the reason that he left, the stress of being broke and having a child a wife to support. It wasn't until he started his own financial business that he started to have money, and now, ten years later, he's just as rich as the parents of the other kids at my school.

Yet, instead of helping my mother, he only pays for my tuition, which he claims is all the help she needs now that she has a job. I couldn't deny the feelings of abandonment that has and I think will forever linger due to my father's actions. I don't think anyone could blame me for feeling this way. I doubt anyone with a father like that can come out mentally unscathed.

It was true, I guess, what Jesse said to me. I did have daddy issues.

Sometimes I had to wonder if Jesse was actually right about more things than I gave him credit for. The daddy issues, my own stupidity, my burnout in the desire to upkeep my appearance. Those were just a couple of the things that he's said to me, in just the past couple of days. And he was right, about every single one of them.

The buildings began to grow taller, like trees that climb out of your eye's reach when you're hiking deeper into a forest, alerting me that we were growing closer to the center of downtown, which is where Roman's apartment building was. I decided to step off the bus at the next stop, knowing that I wasn't entirely certain of where his building was.

The heat of the city enveloped me as I stepped off the bus. I wasn't exactly sure where the heat came from. Maybe it came from the thousands of cars that were inching through the narrow streets. Maybe it was from the combined body heat of the people jam-packed on the sidewalk, absorbed and reflected off the cement that everything seemed to be consisted of.

I didn't dwell on those thoughts as I twirled around, trying to gauge my whereabouts. When I had a vague idea of which way to go, I started in that direction. I didn't let myself look back at the strangers of the city, who were all glancing at me in one way or the other. Most of them looked at my messy hair first, then down to my mascara-stained face, then they scanned my body. I was still wearing the black dress that I wore last night, and I knew what everyone was thinking. A walk of shame from a night gone wrong. In a way, they were right I guess.

I spotted Roman's building as I walked around the corner. The building made of glass left no doubts in my mind that it was the right one. Though it was a sight to see in the semi-darkness of the night, it was just as magnificent during the daytime. I felt the same awe that I remembered feeling last night, though today that awe was hidden deep under the still raging current of anger.

I knew the anger had many heads, like a hissing medusa. One of the heads was Jesse. Well, let's be honest, many of the heads were Jesse. A couple of the heads were my dad, and a couple were my own. But one, one was Roman, and I had the opportunity to cut that one off right now.

Staring up at the building of glass that reminded me of a crystal figurine that was left to stand in the sun, the way it was reflecting the light of the city in a million different directions, I was completely consumed with my motivation for answers. It was like the only thing I could focus on, the need for those answers.

Maybe I wasn't quite sure why those answers mattered to me so much, but at that moment, my reasons for why weren't important. His reasons of why, they were the only important thing.

I held my head high as I pushed through the doors and into the lobby of the expensive building. I knew my presence would be immediately questioned in the way I currently looked. On a normal day, I could march in here and command the respect of the rich people that lived here, but not today. I was so far below commanding respect of anyone today. As quickly as I could manage, I strode into the already opened elevator and pressed the number four, the same one that Roman pressed last night. When the doors opened, and I walked into the same hallway that I left just this morning, I didn't get cold feet like I thought I might.

Instead, as I was standing in front of Roman's door, I let those feelings of anger continue to flow right through me, the questions that I so desperately needed to answer flicking through my mind like the guide of cable TV.

My body was hot as I raised my fist to knock on the door. This is the second time that Roman has set me on fire, but this time, the type of flame was completely different. If last night he had begun a forest fire in the nerves of my body with his touch and his words, today he set a gas fire.

And my blood was the fuel