My Brother Says I'm Dangerous

(30)

Hey! So... sh*t kinda hit the fan in this chapter. 

Please hold on for the explanation. This is big.

Just as a warning, I want to be sensitive: Trigger warning: Kidnapping, drugs and sexual contact. Please let me know if this affects you, if I can help. It's fiction, although I understand the topic is a sensitive issue.

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I stare at myself in my mirror, attached to the back of my bedroom door.

I used to consider myself as somewhat pretty. I didn't mean it in a conceited way. I just knew I wasn't ugly. I would get compliments in the hallway from boys, about my hair, or my face. 

Not that I would ever really act on those comments. My brother made sure of that. But it was nice to know that people admired you. Even just a little bit.

Now, even dressed up ready for a party, I notice a significant change. 

My hair isn't as neat. I used to tie it up with clear hair elastics, everyday out of my face. People said they envied how straight it always was. I didn't tell them I would spend hours in the bathroom before school, straightening the life out of it. Now I let it go free, not spending the time to make it look perfect. My curls shape my face, falling wherever they choose.

I stopped using the little make-up I owned. Before, I used to stress over every pimple and blemish that would appear, critically applying foundation, making it look perfectly natural. People would envy my skin and I would smile politely.

I run my hands over my hips and waist, covered by the material. I would always try to make an effort, although modesty was key. Afterward, I really didn't care. Ripped jeans and a shirt would do, always with that huge army jacket. It used to belong to my Dad, I found it in the attic when I was twelve. I started wearing it. After. 

Here, I kind of don't have a choice. Chloe and Alison took me shopping for tonight, and they found a nice wrap around skirt, black, hugging my hips perfectly. It stops just above my knees, and they paired it with a pretty drawstring long sleeved white top, ending just above the skirt, showing a small line of stomach, which in this heat, is a nice bronze. I slip on some black sandals, smiling slightly. We've been eating red skins, my lips a slight tinge of red.

I still don't see myself as ugly.

But I've changed. I'm different.

I jump, interrupted by a knocking on the door. I rush over, opening it up to find Hunter, obviously about to pound the door again. He stops, taken aback, obviously looking at my outfit.

"Hey." He smiles softly. "You look amazing." 

"Thanks." I say, laughing awkwardly. "It was all Chloe and Alison really." He doesn't look so bad himself. Jeans, and tight black shirt, a distinct smell of fresh air and coffee.

"Well, they did good." He grins. "Come on. My parents are leaving, and people are arriving." I follow him down the stairs, earning whistles from Jackson and Isaac, hanging out at the bottom.

"Looking good." Jackson smirks. 

"I would say the same about you." I tease. "But you just don't cut it." 

"Ouch." He laughs, as we all join the others in the kitchen.

Emily once again looks HOT, in a tight pink striped dress and high heels I only dream of being able to wear comfortably, but still holds a now rare stance of subtlety and class. Keith upholds his now trademark old white cowboy hat, waiting patiently at the table with his news paper.