FLASHBACK CONTINUES

I looked at the dress sprawled on the bed—absolutely Claire’s style. I picked it up and scrutinized it. Everything about the dress screamed extravagance. It was a fitted red gown that flowed down, exuding elegance and class. The butterfly-cut neckline was bold. Paired with Louboutin heels, Bulgari accessories, and a Bottega Veneta clutch, it was a complete ensemble. I had spent enough time with Claire to gain a glimpse into the fashion world, as it was the only thing she ever seemed to talk about.

I discarded my clothes and stepped into the shower, my mind restless. Closing my eyes, flashes of running, covered in scratches, filled my head.

Gasping, I snapped back to reality and realized I was still in the tub. After drying off and applying lotion, I faced the mirror briefly, wrapped in a towel, and then quickly changed without looking at myself because I hated seeing the scars and branding engraved on my body. The harsh reality of all I was, ‘used and tossed’.

A few hours later, the stylist finished her work. “You look magnificent Miss Claire” she smiled at me through the mirror.

“Th..thank you” I said, unsure of what to say.

Wow! I stared at myself, never having seen myself like this before. The makeup and red hair transformed me. My amber eyes, button nose, and full lips were still the same, but now accentuated perfectly.

Putting on the dress was a struggle since I’m curvier than Claire, and it was in her size—very tight. Father never bothered to know my size, always focused on Claire.

It was finally time for the gala, and I glanced at my figure again, feeling a bit insecure. When I was fifteen, I had a growth spurt and gained weight due to the intense intake of birth control pills.

So, I was purposely starved to "maintain" my weight, as they put it. I endured days, sometimes even months, of wet fasting.

“"You can do this, Daphne," I reassured myself before heading down.”

******

Arriving at the event, I tried my hardest not to look out of place, but I was already shaking, haunted by flashes of my past. I couldn't help but wonder—what if there was a door behind the stage? What if there were girls on the other side of the wall?

I chugged down the champagne, trying to regain my composure, but I was sweating profusely even in the well-conditioned room. Across the room, Mother shot me a glare that seemed to scream, "Maintain."

“Urhm, Urhm” I cleared my throat loudly, chewing on my fingers unconsciously and tapping my feet nervously. I was relieved not to have to socialize, as Dad claimed I had a sore throat and couldn't speak. ‘Since I was uncouth”- his words.

“Excuse me,” I heard him say as he approached, “Come with me, hun.” He placed his hand on the small of my back and guided me toward the balcony.

“Are you crazy? Do you have to be an embarrassment every time?” he snapped at me, after making sure no one was around.

“I… I…am sorry dad, I just….”

“Speak up! Or better yet, just save yourself the trouble—your being here is worthless. Go through the back door; the chauffeur will take you home. DO YOU HEAR ME?” he said bitterly.

“O..ok,” I said with my voice cracking at the end.

“Idiot,” he muttered lowly, but loud enough for me to hear. I watched his retreating figure with tears welling in my eyes. And like a dam breaking, I started crying like a child. Being here today, I felt like the scared child I once was.

“Red? Is that you?” I looked up to see a pair of beautiful green eyes filled with concern. He was a tall, muscular man with a chiseled jawline and a straight nose. His scent filled my senses, and when my teary eyes landed on his lips— Lord take me bak, I was struck.

“W..who are you..” I stammered “Are you an angel?” Who knows, maybe the Father above heard my prayers and sent me an angel.

He laughed at my statement “Don’t you remember me from the other night?”

“Huh?” I frowned.

“Nathaniel Pierce

*******FLASHBACK ENDS

I snapped out of the flashback, of the day I met Nate as I saw an elderly woman come in with food

“How are you feeling dear?” she asked.

“Better thank you” I answered her politely.

“Great, I made soup for you. The man you saw earlier is Andrew, my husband. He was the one who found you, but that’s a story for another day,” she chuckled lightly.

“Th..thank you.”

“I’m Anastasia, but you can call me Anne. Oh, right! I should let you eat. I’ve prepared bath water; it’s across the room.”

I was too emotional to express my gratitude. After she left the room, she peeked back and said, “Please don’t hesitate to call me if you need anything. And Girl, you’re drop-dead gorgeous.”

I nodded with a smile, sensing she was a chatterbox. And I was in for one bumpy ride.

I needed to get my shit together and fight for the life I never had.