A Night To Remember

26. a dream ruined

Azrael Carmen

I got cursed, in every way a woman can. Sometimes I wanted to laugh because it was so fucking unfair and all I could do was take it and suffer from the inside out, wondering if my life was ever going to get better.

The door slammed shut behind me with a loud bang. I heard the sound of their voices fading away downstair as I turned my record player on high. Moody music filled the room, strumming to the tense air. I ditched my heels and stalked through my walk in closet, hands shaking and hot blood pounding inside my ears. Anger coursed through my vein and I felt it teased the last of my morality.

I needed to fucking stab something.

A shiny glint caught my eyes. I turned and saw the dagger Elliot had given me during my fighting lesson this morning. I hadn't used it or held it like he instructed me to. My eyebrows furrowed with thought as I picked it up and tested its weight. The silver blade was cold on my skin. I gripped it a little tighter, feeling out the sharpness. Adrenaline pumped through my system and at that moment I remembered what it had felt like to let go. To break down. To be ready to lose it all and to taste the calm of the aftermath.

I didn't care. I would break any rules and ruin every last threads of my humanity as long as I could tear down my reality.

I blinked. Then I blinked again. A rush of ghostly chill struck down the line of my spine as I realized where my head went. The dagger dropped from my hand to the floor with a clank. I stepped away like it was going to jump at me and tear the darkness right out of me.

Grounding my jaw, I swirled my mind back to the present. I turned and yanked a black blouse and skirt from the hanger. I ignored the discarded weapon on my closet floor and went ahead with my already fucking bad day.

The eyeliner was chillingly smooth on my skin as I dragged it across my eyelid to draw a cat eye sharp enough to kill a man. Preferably every fucking men on the board. I backed away from the vanity mirror with a scowl at the thought of them and grabbed the half empty wine glass I had poured for myself. I gulped down the bitter liquor and imagined it was my enemy's blood. I picked up a tube of my favorite Chanel lipstick and carefully painted my lips bloody red to match the murder inside my head.

I heard him coming before I saw his face. The startling crash came with the sound of his low curses. I flinched back in surprise, shifting my hand the wrong way and smudging the corner of my lip.

"Fuck. Your heels almost killed me, Jane." Elliot stumbled over the threshold, frowning at my scattered shoes like they were some sort of death trap I purposely set up for him.

I glanced from my ruined makeup and glared at the idiot. He made a whole show of kicking the heels of his way before strolling into my space, uninvited.

"Too bad you didn't break your neck and die." I said, sounding unimpressed.

His eyes followed the rows of purses and heels before clashing mine. I would never admit that I noticed it when they softened a little every time he looked at me. It was a new secret I'd like to enjoy alone.

"You've already gotten ready. Twice. Who are you trying to impress there, Jane?" He asked in an accusing tone.

"You ruined my lipstick, dickfucker." I sneered, pointing the tube at his face.