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sorry this took so long, i missed you stinkers

Elaina Basset

"We're taking shots by the pool."

Liam makes the announcement, the only thing in my tummy so far today being a tequila shot.

I am going to be fucked up by the end of the day.

"Let's go pick our bedroom!" Angela then grabs me by the wrist while grabbing her bag from off the floor. I grab mine quickly as well. "Bianca, come." Angela adds.

"The three of you better be in bathing suits when you come outside!" Niall yells as we leave.

Within seconds I'm being pulled through the kitchen and down the hall to one of the bedrooms on this level of the penthouse.

Bianca, who I'm not too knowledgeable on, follows us with a skip in her step. I don't know her, but she's my age and she seems very sarcastic and witty. I cant gauge whether she likes me or not, hopefully I'll warm up to her because I don't need another person to hate me.

Angela takes us into a room, the second door on the right of the corridor. She peeks inside to examine, then a smile curls up on her face. Once I'm in, I see a gigantic bed with what seemed like thousands of pillows and silk covers and a velvet couch that could fit at least five people. The walls are white, with subtle gold colored accents at the trim. The curtains are the same color as the trim, tying the whole room together perfectly. It's like a bedroom I would paint for royalty.

Is this how rich people live?

"Three nights in this room. I'm never leaving." Angela flops down on the bed and kicks her feet up.

"It is really nice." I say, smiling a little to myself.

"She's too humble."

I hear Bianca speak those words about me to Angela, as if I wasn't right here to hear them. I shake it off though, going to my bag and pulling out my bikini. It's a navy blue basic bikini, but I love it because it keeps my boobs secure and I don't have to worry about any nip slips out by the pool.

However, there is one part of my body that I'm freaked out about showing—and that's the wound on my hip from being attacked in the van.

Harry is the only one that knows what happened...

With my bathing suit bunched up in my hand, I also grab a pair of jean shorts for the purpose of coverage. I'm not planning on going in the pool anyway.

I walk out of the bedroom, down the hallway a couple doors down until I reach the bathroom. Shutting the door behind me, I start to get undressed.

I peel my leggings off first, kicking and struggling to get my feet out of the holes. I take my underwear off next, followed by my shirt and sports bra.

For a moment, alone in the bathroom, I look at my naked body in the mirror.

I don't do this a lot...look at myself, I mean. It takes a lot of energy out of me to just examine my nakedness...if I do it too long then I'll find all the flaws.

It's kind of ironic, isn't it? The artist who finds beauty in everything can't seem to find it in herself.

Nothing stands out, and that's the problem. It makes this scar on my hip all the more visible. It's red and scabby and overall ugly. And it's also a reminder of what happened and how scared I was—and how those men are still out there.

No. Stop thinking about this, you're supposed to be having fun.

I blink and shake my head, sighing and then glancing in the mirror again to force a smile.

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