Pastel Dreams || editing

ten - hemoglobin and ethanol

This chapter is... rough. This is a trigger warning, so read at your own risk. Proceed with caution. Hang on tight, sweethearts.

Charles Rufner had been a gentleman at first. 

We had met during some event, while I was in my master's year at NYU. He was an intern in a hospital, with dreams of becoming a surgeon. Charles told me that he had heard good things about me, and that he liked my ambition. I thought I reciprocated his feelings but after tumultuous years in college and high school, I wasn't keen to be intimate or willingly rush into a relationship. He said that he understood.

Until one day he had jumped me. 

I had come home and he had grabbed me by the throat, saying that he'd waited enough. He'd slapped me when he realised that I wasn't a virgin anymore and called me slurs until I was too tired to respond. He had spat on me, saying I was black filth but that he liked me better that way.

I remembered fainting from how feral and rough his thrusts had been. I woke up in my own blood, covered by his grime. He'd left and slammed the door on his way out, judging from the broken picture frames.

 I changed my phone number and changed apartments that day. The worst thing about all of this is that he wasn't even that inebriated. He was twisted and dark and I had been too blind to see that. Days, weeks and months later, people had kept asking me when we'd get married. I told them that it hadn't worked out.

I didn't want to remember what the doctors had said when I pulled myself together and cleaned most of the fluids away, and took a cab to the hospital.

I simply evolved into a different person. I protected myself from the darkness by putting my heart and soul in my work. I just lived with fear, trying to cope and get over it, because society had shown me just how meaningless my words were. Instead, I relished my loneliness because that meant no one was getting to me. I wasn't a very talkative person anyway.

But so far, I was okay.

I didn't cry as I went over these thoughts, just thought about how Lucca was coming back into my life, figuring me out and making me want to talk to him. It scared me, just how close he had gotten in weeks, when all this time, I'd worked hard just to keep people away.

It was then that a tear fell. Quickly, the showers' water cleaned it away, and my sobs were muffled by the sound of it.

I dried myself gingerly, carefully wiping the humidity away. My braids were still flowing down my back, so I brushed my hair, staring at myself in the mirror. My eyes were only slightly red, so I concentrated on putting on my makeup. I liked this part of getting ready.

My insecurities being covered by the cream, brushing bright eyeshadow across my eyelids and lining them. My stare was now intense, my lips dark and my teeth white against them. I didn't struggle with my dress and after putting on my tights, I slipped on pumps and a clutch. I ended the look with ridiculously expensive jewellery Lucca had set on my bed while I was in the shower, and grabbed a heavy coat. It was nearing December, after all.

Time to go.

Lucca's mouth fell open as his eyes brushed against my figure. It made me smile, just a little bit, and I tried my best not to show how impressed I was with him. His hair was coiffed, his cheeks a little red from the heat of the shower, and I appreciated his suit, dark like mine, and his double breasted blazer added a nice flair to the outfit.

"You didn't have to get me-"

"You look exquisite, as always," he murmured charmingly, offering me his arm. "Shall we?"