Pearls of a teenager's life

The Red Gown.

I could hear the footsteps, close behind me; once again I turned my head behind like that of a hunted deer, with fear evident in my eyes. I never knew where I was headed until I dashed into my hotel manager, Mr. Keller Mason.

"Ms. Jones, is there any way to I may be of a help?"He asked me in his usual patronizing tone.

"Yes please," I said adjusting my tattered dress and trying to sound firm in my quivering voice. "Do send a few towels and a bottle of scotch up to my suite, please."

"Right away, Ms Jones. Anything else you need?"

"No, thank you", I said as the beautiful glass doors of the elevators shut in front of me. As I entered my 2 BHK suite and immediately opened the bottle of scotch I had ordered, poured it shakily into a glass. The brown clear liquid flowed into the broad glass like a river flowing without any obstacles. Finishing the drink in one big gulp, I walked into the bathroom and drew the bath.

After the bath as well, my hands still shook unsteadily after tonight's events. Things were not supposed to end in such a manner. Just a few hours ago, I was reveling in the party my rival business partner, Charles Keith had thrown. It seemed that the party would not end, before tomorrow morning. If only I knew what he had planned for me would break my soul, crush my confidence like a million pieces of shattered glass. Taking a sip of my strong drink, I began to look at how things had unfolded tonight.

Red. Often considered as a color of power, confidence and attitude. There I was in my lovely Gucci red gown, the one my assistant picked it out for me carefully, knowing my personality; and having a glass of white wine. A while later I had excused myself to the ladies room, and that's when the light's went out. When I exited the rest room with the help of the light from my smartphone provided, suddenly someone covered my mouth and twisted my hand with a death grip and I soon drowned into the darkness of the unknown.

When I had woken up, I was in a different room. My red gown was tattered and cut inappropriately in a few places along with few cigarette burns. Dust and grime covered my face, it took a while to observe my present condition. My hands were tied and my mouth gagged. I later noticed that four men surrounded me. Their eyes had a devilish gleam in them. I could not scream but to see them enjoy the fear in my eyes. My legs were tied apart from each other. The pearl necklace I had worn was half removed, as though someone had tugged it.

My eyes felt puffy due to the crying, with my mascara smudged everywhere. As my worst fears came true, my screams were muffled and the tears that came out of my eyes held no value.

One by one they all came.

I remembered feeling a prick on the right side of my neck, and darkness had eluded me again. The next time I woke up, I was in the middle of a street. It was still night, somewhere around 2. I washed my face with the water in a bird bath and painfully walked towards my hotel, asking unknown people the place I was dying to go back.

As I look at my red gown, which lay tattered on my bed, symbolizing not only my power but also the pain I had gone through in the past 7 hours. Questions began pouring in my mind.

Should I keep quiet about such an incident? Or should I not?

What is my fault in here? To be a successful business woman? Or just because of the fact that I was a woman?

NO.

I will raise my voice. I will be heard.

They say every story has two sides and my side will be heard and it it will be crystal clear. I may stumble and fall, but I will take a stand against this. People may mock me, but I will stand.

Taking a deep breath, I took the phone and dialed the number to the chief of police. Just as it was about to connect, I cut the phone.

Will I be able to go through all of this? What about my reputation?

No, this has to be done. Justice must be served. I calmed myself down and dialed the number again. Feeling empty within myself, with no emotions in me, I waited for the phone to connect. As the police chief picked up the phone looked at my red gown for the last time and began talking, " Yes, Mr. Russel. It's me Gabrielle Jones, I would like to make a complaint...."