Chapter 3: Facing your Fears

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"I have to face the fear. I have to take control of the situation and find a way to make it less frightening." — Veronica Roth

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Lauren's POV

Today is my first day of training. I was up before my alarm, not that I am excited, but I can't sleep anymore. So I decided to get ready earlier than I anticipated.

I was looking at my reflection in the mirror. I was wearing a black stretch midi style, with a halter neck design, with lace inserts through the front and low v-back. A keyhole detail at the neck and a concealed zip through the side. The dress was simply stunning and it instantly showcases my hourglass shape, making my waist looks slimmer.

I just worked on my hair, half-up-half-down. Curled the half down, and cascaded beautifully on my back just below my bra line. I put a natural makeup on and applied a lip gloss on my natural pink full lips, completed it with a small pair of an earring stud and a silver watch.

I smiled as I stared at my reflection, admiring my handy work. It looks simple yet elegant, timeless rather. Gone those slutty outfits I'm used to since my parents passing.

Again the thought of them made me feel numb.

Too much pain makes you feel numb.

I smiled bitterly. Life is full of surprises. When you least expect it, it's what's coming. These two months, my life drastically change. For some reasons, I felt like I matured a lot, and it's funny because I didn't mature for twenty years. I still act like a kid seeking attention, but these few months, I think of life differently. I have to face the cruelness of the real world, where I never knew it existed, alone and no one on my side.

Turning my back on the full-length mirror, I started flipping through clothes hanging on the metal rod and pulled a nude blazer to match with my nude pumps.

There's no time for getting melodramatic, Lauren, I mentally chided myself.

I had to start planning my life. I have to continue what my parents had invested their life with, and failure is not an option.

I let out a loud breath. Again, my anxiety is attacking me.

I looked at the mirror once more and two grieving eyes were staring back at me. The glow was gone. "I can do this," I murmured audibly looking away, not wanting to go deeper of my emotions. It will only create more bitterness in my heart.

I glance at my wrist watch, and it's already 7:30 in the morning, how times flies by so quick, but when I need it fast, it seems to drag really slow.

I sighed. 

I've been up since five. I have enough time to pick myself a coffee at a drive-thru before heading straight to the Mailov headquarters.

I moved out of our house three weeks after the burial and bought a penthouse downtown where the Mailov building was barely ten minutes drive, depending on the traffic. I can't stand living in our mansion, there are many reasons why. First and foremost, the place reminds me of them every day. That will only prolong the agony I felt.

I pick up my keys, phone, and slipped it in my black channel purse. I walk out my room heading towards the living room and grab my mac laptop, where I spend most of my time reading and learning about the ins and out of the His&Hers. Mom saves all the details in various files, which Mr. David forwarded it to me. Hoisting my purse on my shoulder, I headed towards the door, with my other hand holding the laptop like a baby.

Looking once more in my living room, I squeeze my head trying to think if I missed something, then I turned to the door and twisted the knob to open.

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