A Compelling Motive (h.s.)

seven

A heavy sigh leaves my lips, my back slumped against the backside of my apartment door. This job will forever be the death of me; one day closer to my final exit. I throw my bag on the counter and grab my mail out of it, flipping through the envelopes. My sister's name shows on the return address of one, and I grab it. I've already decided to not go to this event. They happen every month; forced to go by my sister to make it seem like I'm a part of the family. It's just a lame excuse; she needs a date, but never has one. I'm just her plus one to enable her the shred of dignity she has in regard to a second person by her side.

I start to make myself something to eat, trying to distract my thoughts from what Amelia is going to throw in my face this time to get me to go. My eyes close as I sigh, turning around to grab the invitation again. They always have themes; themes that are so incredibly expensive that my father insists to pay for the attire. It makes my own dignity shred.

My lip is taken between my teeth when I see the word 'Masquerade' written across the top. There are simple letters describing what it all entails, and I drop it back on the table. It's only two days away and I fear myself is unable to get out of it on such short notice.

The downside of being employed by my father is that he aware of my schedule. I'm so over my head that he controls when I work and what I do. Which means, there is no way out of anything.

I have to go. No other option.

My hand turns the knob on the stove, and I forget about making dinner and go straight for the freezer. Nothing to cheer me up rather than delicious, fatty ice cream. Just as I'm ready to enjoy the sweet cream, a knock on the door is heard and I pace towards the door, ice cream in hand.

"You're a pig," Amelia says, taking note to the ice cream.

"And you're a bitch. Your point?" I spit at her. She noticeably clenches her jaw but moves on.

"I brought your dress. Our father gave me the money to pick it out; no way are you getting out," she says, beating me to my own refute.

She hands it to me I grab it, setting my ice cream on the counter. I go to my room, taking the time to put it on. It's a floor length gray gown with a long plunging neckline so that my breasts are one move from popping out. My back is on show again, and my mind goes back to the night I met Harry. It's what made him notice me.

I walk out and show her and she actually smiles, seeming to enjoy her choice. "I think it looks great on you," she compliments me, my eyes nearly bulging out of my head.

"Don't look so surprised. I can acknowledge that you look good," she says, holding her hand up before grabbing her drink. It's some green smoothie; surely, it's a new detox drink to make her skinny. I am at a loss in the world of making myself healthy, but I exercise and eat alright. It's a good balance.

"Do you need anything else?" I ask, her head turning so her attention is back on me.

"I want to apologize," she says, and I raise my eyebrow in suspicion. It, for all I know, is genuine, but could very well be a big façade.

"It's all I been thinking about this past week and I need you to know that I shouldn't have done what I did. The slap...I was so frustrated. It was unnecessary," she tells me, and I cross my arms. I'm trying to look through her; finding what I can to look to see the lie. But it's genuine.

"I don't want it to happen again, but I don't like making empty promises," I tell her, and she looks at me with almost sadness. I know she'll do it again, and I know my father will as well. So, getting her to say she'll promise to never do it again, will be broken.

"I wish I could," she says, and I just shake my head. It's disappointing to hear but expected.

"I'm going to go," I hear her say, and she collects her things. I say goodbye to her, and she only says she'll see me at the event in return. She leaves, closing the door behind her. When I get to my room, I remove the dress and take clothes to the bathroom with me.