For the past five years, I've loved him from afar. He became my awakening. My escape.
Being the daughter of a serial killer has never been unicorns and rainbows. I've hidden in the sea of criminals from a young age, waiting to strike at the perfect...
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NO ONE'S HERE TO SLEEP, NAUGHTY BOY FT. BASTILLE
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Click. Flash. Click. Flash. Click. Flash.
The clicking and flashing engulf me in every sense. With every click and every pose, I become blinded by every flash. My smile becomes unwavering for several photos. With every photo comes different outfits, and different makeup styles. I feel like the dolls my father has dressed and kept in his Dollhouse.
Wasn't that ironic?
This photoshoot was my father's idea. To display his renewed deal with Matthew about supplying cosmetics to his work. To display it on me: the face of the company as I would one day become its owner. What other way to display the renewed deal, not only on my face but in Monarch Magazine?
It goes on for what feels like hours.
It's suffocating.
The only thing that allows me to keep my mind on track is Matthew's watchful eyes. I feel the weight of stress fly off my shoulders once I sit on the leather couch in the back that's been calling my name since we started. I pull out my favorite Edgar Allan Poe book from my backpack and the Red Vines I'd thrown into a plastic bag this morning. It was almost lunchtime but I need a break from standing for hours without end.
"See something you like?" I ask. "Perhaps you should take a photo. It'll last longer."
"Of course, I do like what I see," he replies. "I'll have plenty of photos after today."
I feel the heat rise on my face while biting the Red Vine to keep myself from smiling. I finally look at him.
"Is that so?" I tease.
"Always. I can appreciate the beauty in art, minx," he says.
"Subtle, Mr. Taylor. Very subtle," I laugh at his corny statements.
He moves forward, taking the book from my hands. His lips take mine. I moan. For a moment, everything seems to fade away. I feel the smile on his lips before delivering one last peck.
