Force You Down

Chapter Fifteen

Jacklyn

It turns out that "Let me make it up to you" means "I'll thoroughly disguise you so we can go out in public".

I was down.

The plan was to change everything about me; temporarily of course, Mike loves me the way I look now. He would never permanently change me.

We'd go out to a restaurant, and eat.

And that would be enough.

So Mike went out to buy a shit ton of makeup. An outfit that's entirely black. A black wig, brown contacts, you know, everything that's vital in distorting your image.

I was to look like a goth.

Not complaining.

"Change everything about your face. Whatever it's called, when you make you face look skinnier." He said. So basically contour the shit out of my face.

I've always been decent at makeup.

I have to go back to the innocent, sweet, mushy-gushy lovey-dovey character. I have to set this up perfectly.

I stand in front of the bathroom mirror, staring at my face. I start with popping the brown contacts over my blue eyes. Then comes the black eyeshadow.

I pack it onto my lid and blend up into my crease. Smokey, baby.

I take the pitch black eyeliner and make a dramatic cat-eye, lining my waterline.

Mascara, dramatic fake lashes.

I take the eyeliner and create very strong eyebrows.

I smear the much-too-light foundation all over my face. Mike didn't pick up powder. Cringing, I move onto contour.

I sculpt my cheeks. Once they're hollow I carefully slim down the bridge of my nose.

Finishing off with a dark liquid lipstick, I pin up my wavy brown hair, struggling to place the wig cap on my head. I quickly dress into the tights, skirt, long sleeved shirt, and heeled boots. Everything is black.

I pull the realistic-ish black wig over my head. I step back and examine myself in the mirror. I'm almost unrecognizable.

Almost.

I sigh and walk to Mike's office, where he looks up and stares at me in surprise.

After examining me thoroughly, Mike nods. "Good. Ready to go?" I smile.

"Yes." I try to conceal the excitement in my voice. Mike stands, grabbing his car keys, and walks to me, grabbing my hand. He leads me downstairs, and once we reach the bottom he stops.

"I'm not used to you being taller." He says, and I fake giggle.

"Me neither." He smiles and continues out the front door. Going to the sleek Lamborghini, he opens my door. My heart racing, I step inside, buckling myself in.

As Mike starts up the car, he begins to lay out the rules.

"Don't make eye contact with people. Don't talk to anyone. You can tell me what you want to order. No using the bathroom." He says sternly, and I nod in compliance, really wanting to bash his controlling head in.

So we drive down the windy road, déjà vu hitting me hard. I stare at the hill at the edge of the road, my mind going back to the dream I had. I close my eyes in disappointment.

As we near closer and closer to the city, my heart races and my hands become clammy.

Mike glances at me throughout the car ride, and places his large hand on my upper thigh. I inhale steadily, controlling the urge to throw his hand off of me.

We park in front of the restaurant Betty's Diner. It's nothing fancy, but it'll do. I keep the smile off my face when I notice the restaurant is almost completely full.

Mike stops moving. He turns to me. "Ready?" I smile softly and nod.

"Behave." He says again, the warning in his eyes. I nod again, and my anxiety begins to spike as he walks around the front of the car to open my door. I step out, relishing the fresh city air. Mike grabs my hand possessively and I don't roll my eyes.

We enter the restaurant, and the hostess immediately greets us. She stares at me for a while, and I don't look at her, because I know Mike is watching.

"Table for two?" She asks, gulping nervously as she seems to recognize Mike. Turns out he's in a very well known gang. The house is made up of his closest men.

Mike nods stiffly. "A booth would be appreciated." Now any regular human would sound polite while saying this, but Mike sounds cold and demanding. I shiver runs up my spine. She smiles and shakily leads us to a booth. My dark look catches a lot of attention. Because Mike is walking ahead of me, I stare back at the people, praying that someone will recognize me.

Having already been here and knowing what I wanted before we were seated, I absentmindedly scan the menu, covering my face. I think of a plan.

I can't just scream out, "Help me, I'm Jacklyn Cordy, the missing seventeen year old!" because I know for a fact Mike has a gun on him. I can't risk the lives of people in here, and Mike would know how to get out of here whilst avoiding the cops.

I jump in my seat when Mike takes the menu out of my hands, looking at me curiously.

"Know what you want? You were staring at the menu for a weirdly long time." He says in suspicion and amusement. Weird combo.

I laugh easily. "Yeah, I haven't eaten out in so long. I wanted to see all of my options." He nods and I can tell he's not suspicious anymore. I subtly sigh in relief.

"What do you want to order?" He asks.

"Spaghetti with chicken parmesan." He nods and a waitress appears, placing down two waters. She pulls out a notepad and smiles at us.

"What can I get for you?" She says in a cheery voice.

"I'll have a bacon hamburger, with a water." He says in a monotone voice. She's smiling as she writes down the order. She's very pretty, maybe a little older than me. She turns to me.

"And you?" She asks kindly. Mike immediately intervenes.

"She'll have spaghetti with Parmesan chicken, and a water." At his words a light bulbs flicks on in my mind. Her smile is forced this time as she writes down my order, and she looks at me with sympathetic eyes. She probably thinks I'm in an abusive relationship.

If only she knew.