Project Apollo: Book Two ✔️

Chapter Five

Jason Archer

Apollo's Mom gave me some of her unused makeup yesterday when I mistakenly told her I used to love it. I helped her when she had trouble blending her foundation. It was...oddly therapeutic. I didn't tell her my trauma, but I felt like she could feel it. She told me not to lose what made me happy. But she was a little too late with those words.

Or was she?

I was sitting at the vanity, staring at everything she'd given me. I haven't put makeup on since my incident with the undercover straight man and his friends. I haven't been able to look at myself properly since that day. It was the kind of trauma that wormed into your brain and rewired shit you never thought could be taken away from you. Self-confidence. The ability to look at myself for longer than a few seconds. Any more than that, I was disgusted with what I saw.

Maybe I could get better, right? Maybe.

I opened one of the pallets, my eyes lighting up at the color choices. A spark of excitement I haven't allowed myself to feel since that day. I wanted to swatch them all. So, I did. They were so...perfect. Why didn't she use these? They were beautiful and...expensive, from what I could tell.

Swallowing, I grabbed the brush and dipped it in the burnt orange color. Orange always made my eyes pop when I wore it. Far from my favorite color, but I loved my eyes. I'd do anything to see them come alive. At least, I used to. Maybe this would help. So, I sat there, applying the eyeshadow. I carefully blended it out. Nothing crazy like I was used to–only something to allow me to feel somewhat...encouraged to take more steps. I afforded therapy the best I could. She encouraged me to take steps. So, maybe this was a sign.

I was so lost in what I was doing in the tiny mirror of the eyeshadow pallet, that I didn't hear someone enter. I didn't catch it. The small slit out of the vanity that showed behind me glinted with the figure of the last person I wanted to see. He came even before Apollo. My eyes widened first. I froze second. Then I was acting like a rabid animal.

I shoved all the makeup off the desk and right into the trashcan next to the vanity. I was shaking when I reached for the makeup wipes. "Get the hell out!"

Axton didn't move–I kept a close eye on him as my insides curled. I wanted to throw up. No. He caught me. No. The worst possible person caught me. The memories were flooding through my mind–screaming words at me that they said to me while they kept me held down.

I gasped for breath, trying to wipe away any traces of what I was doing as if I wasn't already caught. I watched as Axton clocked the full-length mirror and then the towel over the vanity. Then he was watching me without moving. Fear started to turn my blood into ice. God, what was he going to do to me? Say to me? He caught me in the worst position. He was going to use this against me. Taunt me.

"Get out!" I cried helplessly as I tossed the used makeup wipe in the trash can and then the rest of the pack Valeria had given me. "Now!"

Axton blinked. "I knew I sniffed trauma on you." Was his simple statement. Not condescending but more like he was stating a fact. "Why..."

I wasn't sure if I'd gotten all the makeup off my face. I refused to look. But I still turned in my chair and charged toward him. "You don't get to ask me anything! Especially you!" I shouted as he cocked his head like I was an interesting artifact to be examined. "Get out!"

He didn't. No. He eyed me as he took steps toward then around me toward the trash can. God, no. Please make this stop. I have to leave. I'd tell Val that I couldn't be here anymore. I'd rather stay on the streets than sit in this house and be deconstructed once again. By Axton. Maybe he wouldn't shove my face against a mirror–no, he respected Emery too much to do that. But the hidden comments. He'd find them.