𝐀𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐥 𝐎𝐟 𝐃𝐚𝐰𝐧

⋆↟•─────⋅☾71☽⋅─────•↟⋆

Blaire》

Speechless, confused, scared and devastated. That would probably sum up what I'm feeling at the moment if it were to be described. But it can't be. No amount of words can exactly express the emotions that are sloshing inside of me. Tight feeling inside my chest, something so dark i can hardly remember any good memory i had before all this shit started.

I want someone to erase the last hour from my memory. Everything that happened and everything I saw in the last hour, I want to forget. If I hadn't been starved for four days now, I would've definitely thrown up from how gruesome the scene was.

I don't want to believe her. I really don't. Especially since I don't know the whole truth. Levi isn't here to defend himself. He has the right to tell his side of the story. For all I know, she could be blaming him for a silly reason and it has stuck with her ever since.

But... that look on her face, that's the look of a grieving mother. The horrible, bloody image of that baby. My God, I can't get it our of my mind. I really wish to unsee it. There's hearing about it and imagining it, but seeing it changes you drastically. I don't think ever the most malicious of people faking that, but surely there has to be a way for her to be lying about something.

There's a huge part of this missing, and I don't know how to find it.

⭒🜲⭒

I gasp as she rips off the blanket that's covering me. "Sorry, but you're making a mess with that." She says with a foreign accent. I'm left hugging my knees to my chest, trying to retrieve whatever dignity there's left. "How about you give me clothes then we can talk?" I say between chattered teeth.

She huffs out a laugh. "Yeah, that's not happening." She says as she and the other maids drag me to the bathroom. They fill the huge tub—more like a medium sized pool—with hot water, I told her to make it as hot as possible since I feel like I'm going to turn into a popsicle, but even that isn't enough to warm me up. I wish I could use my fire to warm myself up, but I either freeze to death or burn people to death.

They scrub me till my skin is red with something that smells heavenly and shampoo my hair with something that smells even better. I think it's vanilla mixed with something else, but I can't quite tell what it is. My protests die off quickly when they start massaging conditioner in my hair.

After they made sure I was squeaky clean, they began to brush my knotted hair. I felt like my head had been skinned from how much pulling and tugging they were doing. Three were brushing my hair.

Three.

After they made sure my hair was clear of knots and soft—I'm pretty sure my scalp started bleeding at one point—they took me out of the bathroom and into the closet. They never spoke a word to me the whole time. All my questions went unanswered until I gave up and stopped talking altogether.

Could it be they felt sorry for me because I'm just that dirty and I have no clothes?

They pull out with looks like laces and a big heavy box. I look at her, confused. She shakes her head. "I don't know either. She just said 'one of a kind' and 'don't use much fabric' so I'm just winging it here."

I don't feel good about this.

⭒🜲⭒

I feel like I'm still naked. I mean, I basically am. I'm not wearing anything underneath this so called 'dress' . She indeed didn't use much fabric. I'm just grateful she lit up the fireplace for me. She wouldn't answer me when I asked her what this was for.

Nor when I asked her to at least sew together that insanely high thigh gap. One gust of wind and my ass is on full display. My arms, legs, and chest are covered with gold. Chains and charms everywhere. Even my back has a three layered gold chain with little stars hanging off it.